She’s A Song
There’s nothing like the embodiment of music and grace that is a woman The way she moves when she walks. The way she exudes the timeless music and geometry of creation. And she doesn’t know it.
How much I want a woman like that!
One that is comfortable in her own unique skin. Maybe one that is able to appreciate that in me yet still just let me be who I am in my own context.
Update on Judy
So over the weekend we’ve been texting a little. Then I found out she is 18! Shit. At least that’s what her profile says. I didn’t see her age on it until after we started talking. I had already read it when she first messaged me (On Brenda the “profiles” are really just a head shot and blurb about yourself) So maybe she updated it afterwards? There’s more: She wants to meet! My gut: Proceed with caution. I don’t want to date her:
1 I feel I need confirmation of her age. (What if she’s really a bicurious minor?)
2 She is a teenager. Teenagers are monsters made of hormones and are biologically compelled to be self-centered.
3 SHE IS A GODDAMN TEENAGER!
I told her yes before I saw her age. It was late at night so we signed off and I haven’t talked to her more. I’m going to ask her about her age today and see what she says.
Funny thing is I am kind of excited about this. Not so much that I have a hot, young, thing hitting on me. (She totally does. It’s so cute) But that I have a real-life bonafide queer teen looking for guidance and a little advice. Though, upon seeing her age I thought “Heck no! back away Bacie! BACK AWAY!” I also thought “Better she take up with me than some random chick on the online dating app who will take advantage of her. At least I could share my story with her. Let her know she’s not alone in being a bisexual female in a hetero relationship trying to navigate and assimilate into two worlds” I want to be a mentor to queer youth SO BAD! It’s one of my life goals. So perhaps this is just another adventure in my journey to a more integrated self. (Or I’ll quickly drive her away with my smothering. I tend to be very nurturing, protective, and overbearing when something/someone activates my mothering side. LOL) We shall see. …
Snippet Of The Day #2
During the two months I was without my now ex girlfriend (aka Dom)
I was still active and am currently active on my favorite lesbian App Brenda. I met several woman on there and even dated one a couple of times. (another couple of long stories I’ll have to save for now)
Skipping to the “currently” part: I’m still in contact with most of these woman. For the most part they’re all casual chat partners. We text a little now and then. (Bar the one I kind of dated)
Anyways, Thursday I got a new chat invite on Brenda from a very cute local girl. We’ll call her “Judy”. Judy introduced herself and said “Nice to meet you.” Lol You’ve seen a 70 word blurb about myself and a couple of head shots.You have not yet “met” me. But I liked her manners.
She was wearing an awesome victorian inspired outfit in her photo and I immediately thought “Phew! finally a girly fem who is into me” As opposed to the myriads of butches (sexy? yes but I already have a guy in my life, thanks) and my one tomboy. Dom is so feminine in her way of thinking and emotions and mannerisms but not at all on the outside. She has no clue about make-up and considers sneakers and the hoodie to be acceptable dress-up wear if they are the expensive kind. I cannot describe how much I hate those articles of clothing in the context of fashion. They are NOT fashion and NOT attractive to me whatsoever. (Not even my boyfriend wears either of those. We have similar tastes that way) so that was a strike against her. I know without much else context (Like knowing me personally) that may sound shallow to sum. But you’ll get to know me more as my story unfolds. For one: That part didn’t stop me from falling in love with her at all. It did however, raise some valid concern inside me as to whether I’m at all attracted to her outside of our emotional and spiritual connection and whether those two counts of connection are enough to sustain a romantic relationship for me. I highly doubt it because that is part of being human. I think we all can agree that generally, there must be a reasonable level of physical attraction between lovers for it to last. So exiting that rabbit trail, I’ll say she wasn’t the spitting image of my fantasy GF but was definitely more my type. (As far as fantasy goes, I suspect the real deal, when it hits me will be far greater than my imaginary constructs.)
Anywho, back to “Judy”: I immediately gave her my number and she begun texting me. I texted with her last night enough to find out that she and I are in the exact same relationship situation. We both have boyfriends who support (though perhaps in varying degrees) our sexual renaissance. She is a self-described poet who loves to dance and sing and heavily into Victorian-gothic fashion. Sounds adorable right? We’ll see. ;)
Snippet of the day #1
Long story short:
I came out in early 2012.My longterm partner (aka my boyfriend) and I discuss what this means for me and us and decide I need to begin my journey to embracing myself and living “Out”. I started meeting and connecting with lesbian and bisexual women summer of 2012.(I have known many bi/les friends, co-workers, and a relative, but this time I was “Out”) February 2013 I stumble upon a young woman online living in Texas. We instantly connect. She becomes my girlfriend for two whirlwind months of incredible joy and personal revelation. The start of May 2013, my boyfriend freaks and can’t handle it. As per our pre-decided agreement I break it off with her. The next two months are start depression and a pervasive, dreadful feeling of sliding backwards in life (for many reasons, one huge one being losing her)
July 2013, Pride weekend in San Diego I finally woman up and tell my boyfriend everything I’ve been going through and how, though I don’t need her as a girlfriend anymore I really just need the connection on the soul/friendship level right now. (There’s way more to this situation so hold your judgey-ness) He and I fight. I get a tattoo. By the end of the weekend we both settle on my being friends with her nothing more and he gets updates if that changes. About a week later I contact her. We are currently in contact and she loves me as much as ever. I don’t think I’m really “in love” with her but I love her despite myself. (I can’t help it, as if part of me is flying in the face of all that makes her not-my-match) But I know that I must see this through. I feel deep down that maybe it was meant to be - us meeting, that is- and though she was actually the one to latch on and take it WAYYYYY too romantic and serious WAYYYYY too fast, there is a deeper connection between us than I have ever had with any other human being (Or maybe that was the love chemicals distorting my brain for the first two months of knowing her as they do for everyone’s brain when a relationship is fuzzy and new.
You see, all my life I have wanted that one, life-long best friend that ‘gets me”. You, know, that mythical, ALWAYS loads of fun, ALWAYS loyal, and ALWAYS doing stuff with you that is depicted in countless chick-flicks? That kind of friend. When I first met her I thought “Different time and place we would have been best friends” She met me and instantly thought “different time and place would have been wives”
That sums up the core of my frustration with this relationship. But I still can’t shake it. She was gracious and big enough to leave me alone the second I told her “this” wouldn’t work. But I couldn’t leave her alone. Maybe I’m still in love with her? Maybe she’s my best friend and I just have to follow “this” through until our relationship run it’s course and evolves into the life-long best friendship I pegged her for.
RE: Where has my head been?
I began this blog as an outlet for the thunderstorm inside my soul and as a way to tell my story in short little snippets that track my journey into a more complete self. But So much happens at once sometimes and so much is always in my head that I haven’t kept it flowing here. Sometimes i get a thought and I know I need to share it right away but then I remember how much I haven’t told and think “Nah, it needs more background for context and it will take forever to catch my blog up to this point in my life right now.”
But not anymore.
I’ll have to fill in as I go. This is my story and I’m writing it as I go anyways.
I have lots to tell. Look for it in my following posts.
What I Did For Pride (or How I Got My First Tattoo)
It was 2 pm when I stumbled out of our apartment after having shakily reapplied my elaborate eye makeup. It was indeed quite a day for elaborate color but I wasn’t feeling festive. I had made my boyfriend weep (and he’s not the weeping kind) for the second time in our life together. I said all I could. Bared my heart. Was honest. Reassuring. Gentle. But still, eventually came the dreaded “I’m done. I can’t talk to you anymore today.”
I said ok and stood up, reeling. One thought pupped into my head. It dawned on me. I knew what I had to do. Five minuets later I was out the door. By 230 I was getting off the bus in Northpark with my phone in hand. I just sat at that bus stop a good ten minuets before finally finding the gumption and the words for what I was about to do.It wasn’t the pain.that kept me staring blankly at the screen like I just couldn’t focus on one thought. It was the thought of abruptly altering my body in way I thought I’d never alter it - at least not under such dark circumstances.
Finally I swallowed hard and hit send.
“Hey Mikey? Its Anna. Are you working in the shop today? I was hoping you could help me with a surprise for Manuel” He said he was just on the way in and we arranged to meet there in twenty minutes.
I then made a beeline for the nearest liquor store. After ducking into a Starbucks to sneak a few swigs of vodka,Then I held my head up and marched into the tattoo shop of my boyfriend’s best friend. First question: “How long have you thought about this?” Me: “A while.”
“So what do you have in mind?” I was so nervous. I had no self esteem that day and heading into the den of my boyfriend’s old chums just felt so intimidating for some reason. I managed to croak out what I wanted. “Where?” I tell him. “And he doesn’t know anything about this? I hope he doesn’t get mad at me.” (Me and you both!) He finally brought me to his computer so I could scroll though fonts and designs.He kept making suggestions and showing me lay-outs. I already knew what I wanted. I just hoped he couldn’t pick-up the scent of berry vodka on my breath as I was starting to feel it.
He dutifully went over all the pertinent info and questions: “You do know what they say about getting names?” “Have you eaten anything today?” “I would avoid symbols and numbers, looks too text-message-y. I discourage people from using letting at all but really, I don’t give a shit. It’s your body.” (I know you don’t bud, that’s why I trust you, ha). Etc.. He is good. One of the best. That’s why I knew if I was going through with this it better be by him. Probably be the first thing Manuel will want to know when he sees it. “You went to Mikey, right?”.
Mikey is a character. A young 40 something, short, froggy voice (always thought he sounds like Kermit the frog)skin looks looks a flash book replete with everything from dice to zombie beta fish.
Get him to talking and there’s always something funny coming out of his mouth. Whether it be a project he’s working on (As we head to the back he shows me these flashes of a Wolff in a WWI uniform he adapted out of vintage pin-up girl flashes) or a rant about Area 51 and repressed technology.. He’s in a line of work that may cater to every SoCal “it” crowd - the hippies, the hipsters, the fabled MC clubs, etc but he fits no mold. He and Manuel mesh together that way. Both their own brand of maverick. I knew having it done by him would be nothing if not entertaining. When we finally begin he warns that it will feel like hundreds of pricks on a bad sunburn. It actually wasn’t even that bad. But still, half way through I must break for light-headedness. Someone rustles me up a fun-sized bag of skittles. I munch as we listen to stand-up comedy on the radio and he tells an employee that he brought him a bunch of random star wars books. Always something happening, always up to something.
We resume and I work hard to breath normally. For some reason it seems natural to hold my breath. I remain light headed until it’s done.
I go look in the mirror. In “Black Adder” script right over my heart reads “Manuel, my heart (heart symbol) always”. It looks just about like I pictured it would. I wonder if it’s set in yet, in my mind, how permanent this is. It hasn’t. I head up front and pay. “Tell Manuel I said “Hey”and let me know when you’s guys want to go camping. I got that VW van up and running” I thank him and head out. He had covered it with ointment and plastic and it stung.
For the first time in my life I understand what the cutters mean when they say the injury numbs the pain. It stung good and was oddly cathartic. I wonder around Northpark a little while, 3 dollars to my name. I had taken a $100 check advance for the financing of my year’s biggest event. But I never made it to the festival. Finally I make my way back to the bus stop and settle down in a rear seat for the meandering ride home. My thoughts a winding as the twists and shuttering stops on the snaking double bus. What exactly have I done? What is he going to say when he sees it? Will he freak? Hug me? Call me a fool? Will he care? He knows I hate tattoos as are overrated, cliche fashion accessories. I always said if I ever had a reason to I’d consider getting one but it’d have to be an incredibly good one. (ie considerably more important to me that my favorite band or movie) Today I realized that if there ever was any reason enough in my life to get one it was him. Desperate times call for rash measures. Honestly, I cannot think of a more appropriate grand gesture for today. I was originally to celebrate by bisexual pride. Instead I celebrated, with everything I had (literally), my pride in my one true love at a time when he needed to see it most. When I got home I left the cellophane with the large strips of tape holding it on so that, even though he wasn’t speaking to me, it would draw his attention and start a conversation. I had it all worked out in my head how it was supposed to go. Don’t you think that’s how we all do it? When we attempt something grand - or foolishly grand we have it all planned out in our heads how its supposed to go but most of the time the recipients never follow the script!
Well, he sure didn’t in this case and we never had a dialogue. He goes to bed in silence after vegging out with M15. Only thing he said to me when I got in the door was “How was that gay thing?” I muttered that I didn’t go. I may no longer have virgin skin but at least I still had another kind of virginity.
I finally peeled off the taped plastic and went into the bathroom to get ready for bed. I stared at it forever. It still stung a little and was comforting. I still hate tattoos but I’m oddly proud of my foolish mark. It may have been an emotionally, drunken, mistake but it was one I could live with. I will wear it like a badge of honor because it declares the truth about The One I love most in the world. And thus began my oddly affectionate relationship with my first tattoo.
I would tell you how the universe is inside of you and you would express disbelief. And maybe it wasn’t. But it was the jest that counted.-the act of telling it:that made you want to believe it -something that, in a way, made you want to believe in yourself.
And i don’t know if it really was but every time I heard you laugh….that laugh - I knew you were alive and so was your love for me. and knowing that made me feel alive like I never lived before. You opened my world and thus in a sense gave me the universe from deep within yourself.