A new friend posted this on her social media recently:

This morning when you rolled over
out of bed & left my embrace,
I did not fear for your safety.

Under covers of night I whispered
spells between your shoulder blades,
casting a shield over your body
with the imprints of my lips.

But you are not invincible–

you must come home before
the sun crashes into the earth
& shatters into a billion stars.

(You belong in my arms.)

~Amanda Torroni

I can’t express the exact feeling this gives me–I just don’t know how.  Words that are full… I want to devour them.  There are things I feel that I just want to envelope within my body; this poem is one of those things.  I want to ingest it, to make it part of me, to give it away, to keep it for myself.  I want it to be true, and I want it to be mine.  It’s like an ache, but in a good way.

It expresses something I’ve felt for years, but didn’t know how to express or that it even needed this kind of expression.  I knew it was there, flitting on the sidelines of my mind, but I hadn’t given it space to breath.

But fuck.

So good.

I was talking with a friend today about all the dates I’ve been going on, plus all the ones I want to line up.  And she made a comment about me settling down…  To which I expressed a distinct lack of desire.  (I should preface this with the fact that the women I fall for have all been emotionally unavailable so far, and why settle for a woman you haven’t fallen for?)

I feel like a squirrel with ADD.  I get excited about a woman, but then another ones shows up, and I get excited about her.  And most of the time, the first one is forgotten.  And so on.

It’s not that I don’t want a relationship.  I do.  I really do.  But I don’t want to jump into one before I’m sure of it.  And if I’m not excited about someone, I really don’t want to jump into a relationship with them.  And if they can’t hold my attention for longer than a date, then, obviously that’s not going to work.

And dating women and flirting with them and meeting them and checking them out… it’s still the best fucking thing ever.  I don’t want to turn into a stereotypical douchy guy, but I also don’t feel the need to start uhauling anytime soon.

I really just want to enjoy this time of my life.

I met my soulmate tonight.  She is a dyke who blues dances.  And she is beautiful.  She had the best hair.  And a fantastic sense of style.  And she can lead and follow.  (I am learning lead.)  And we danced many times.  And we switched, which might be the best thing ever.  And I am going to marry her and bear her babies.  (She is going to marry me and bear my babies?)  I know her first name only and can’t find her on facebook.  But I won’t let that stop me.

You guys.  Tonight was fucking amazing.  Learning lead might be one of the best things I’m doing.  I danced with so many ladies tonight!  It was glorious!  Why dance with a man if you can dance with a woman?  (Granted, I am equal opportunity–I’m there to dance regardless of gender.)  I even had a guy come up to me, say that he saw me leading, and asked if I wanted to dance switch.  Yes!  Please!  YES!

The feels!

The blissed out feels!

More, please.

I think I’m getting better at this flirting thing.  Or maybe I just think I am.  Just messaged a woman I’ve been talking with online–she asked if there was anything I was looking forward to this week, and had asked if I wanted to meet.  (So, okay, this is not as bold as it could have been. But still playful, right?!)  So I said something to the effect of “I’m hoping to meet this cute woman I’ve been chatting with on here. Speaking of which, I’d love to meet.”  I was going to ask her to meet, but she beat me to it.  By one message.

I’ve been watching more queer shows/movies and reading more queer literature.  It makes my heart so fucking happy.  Last night I watched Tomboy, and tonight I watched Itty Bitty Titty Committee (which really isn’t anything it sounds like from the name).  I’m currently reading The Essential Dykes to Watch Out For (comics), and have Rubyfruit Jungle on standby.  I’m starting to research the Riot Grrrl bands I missed out on in the 90’s.  God, it’s all so good.

Rainy days, post blues dancing, always make me feel like writing.  And my writing comes out as poems.  The ideas flying through my mind, needing release, needing form and senses and expression.

I’m laying on my floor, listening to Norah Jones, going through my file of poetry.  Creating, refining, releasing.  I’ve purged about half of what I had saved from years ago.  I still smile when I read one of the first poems I ever wrote that wasn’t an assignment.

I found an unfinished poem that I started almost three years ago–it was the beginning of the poem that I needed to write today, that I needed to feel today.

My poems might only ever be good enough for me.  But that is enough.

I went blues dancing last night.  It wasn’t as good as the alternative venue I used to go to in Portland, but you really can’t beat Portland Blues.  Seriously.  I’ve included a little video below of a Jack & Jill competition so you can see what I’m talking about.

Here’s something fun from last night.  Maybe a few little fun somethings.  Let’s see, the only dances I didn’t dance were from choosing to sit out (when I was chatting with the host).  Also, a first!  A woman who I had been making eye contact with frequently over the course of the evening had to attempt three times to ask me to dance because I kept getting asked before she could get to me.  What a nice ego boost!  And now I feel all endorphin happy from all the beautiful physical touch and delightful dancing.

And I only had to dance with two awkward men total.  Phew.  I admit I try to avoid the ones that I suspect will be… weird? creepy? awful?  But my policy by and large is to say yes to anyone who asks, unless I have a really good reason to say no.  And I got to dance with way more women than usual–I love that blues is a very gender bending dance.  Not like swing, which is rare to have switches.

I’m a happy lady this morning.

I keep obsessively listening to Twenty One Pilots’ song Stressed Out (see video in a post below).  It’s just so fucking fantastic.

Work is super crazy right now.  One of our people quit last week and left quite a mess.  Not to mention it seems like close to $200 is missing from various accounts they were in charge of.  My co-worker and I are in charge of their accounts until we get a new person in, and it’s amazing how much of a mess they became in such a short time.  Now, being busy is better than not having enough to do (which is my typical), but too much isn’t fun…

Also, periods. Ugh.

Normally, I don’t ever want to talk specifics about someone I’m currently going on dates with.  But I’m trying to figure something out.  Okay, my dating goal, as stated previously (I think), is to more or less go with the flow, to take things as they come, to not have goals.  So…  I’m going on some dates with this women who is pretty awesome.  And she texts me to tell me that she still wants to go on dates and spend time with me, but she is also trying to do the whole “dating” thing, so is still trying to meet other people.  And I said that sounds great, that I’m doing the same. [This, for the record, is true.]

So here is what I’m trying to figure out.  I have no fucking idea how to casually date.  Yeah, I want to see her, to go on dates, to mess around.  But I’m still an introvert and have limited resources to hand out.  So, yeah, I also want to keep meeting people (duh, so many women!).  And then I’m conflicted because I have liked her better than anyone else thus far (that can always change, though).  Not that it matters because she wants to do the casual dating thing, too?

I will not end up like Rory Gilmore, who tried to date Tristan while he dated many women, but couldn’t, then somehow by accident got him to agree to date only her.  I mean, yes, if that worked for me, I’d do it. But I mean, not on purpose.  So, what I mean is, I don’t want to be Rory, who thought she could do casual dating, but just couldn’t.  Unless that’s simply the case.

So many feels!

So far, my dating strategy has been to go out with every woman who asks–because women! I also want to give people a chance, even if I don’t think they’re my type or whatnot.  And obviously, I ask women out, too, especially if I’m actually interested in meeting them.  But I can see how this first strategy may backfire a little.

For example, this weekend, I went for coffee with a woman I knew I wasn’t interested in, but she grew up in Calgary, and I’d gone to undergrad around that area.  So I thought it would be interesting to talk about Canada some.  But there was no chemistry, and I was bored and counting minutes until I could leave without being too rude.

Then she texted me after the date to say she had a good time.  I didn’t know what to say in response, so I didn’t answer for 8 hours, but when I finally did, I felt so guilty that I texted that I’d had a good time and included a smiley face.  (That, according to friends, was the failing point. Lesson: Don’t include cutesy emoticons if you’re not interested.)  Anyway, despite a lack of response on my part (like, ignoring her texts), I still got asked out again.  (Kudos to her for bravery?) Which meant I had to say I’m not interested in going out.

Ugh.  I’m not saying a first date has to set my heart on fire (although that’s nice if it happens), but there has to be a basic spark, right?

I’m really into this song lately.

Last night I went to the best comedy show ever.  Okay, I can’t say that definitively, as it was the only comedy show I’ve ever been to.  It was Cameron Esposito and Rhea Butcher (Rhea opened for Cameron), and the audience was full of lesbians.  And when I say lesbians, I mean oh my god, there were so many beautiful women everywhere–it was fucking amazing.

Now, besides the obvious eye candy, the comedy was hysterical. I literally laughed all night–my cheeks hurt from laughing.  When I went to meet the ladies after the show, though, I was too star struck to say anything other than “can I pay with cash?” when purchasing Cameron’s cd. Ugh. Oh, I think I did manage a “the show was great,” before awkwardly shuffling away.

Then I dreampt about Rhea all night long–no joke.  I’m blaming one of Cameron’s bits on this because it followed that line pretty closely, with some fun twists.

However, there was one other thing from the show that surprised me, although it probably shouldn’t have, as it’s happened before.  I went by myself, because I’m an independent woman (and none of my friends were interested).  But I think I might have been the only one–or so it seemed. I swear to you, everyone was there with someone or a group.  That wasn’t a problem, none of this was a problem.  (Also, I met a few new folk ahead of time for drinks, then I totally talked with my seat-neighbors, as I am wont to do.)

But it keenly remind me of what I’m missing out on by being single (not that I am trying to be single–as you know, I am actively dating).  Seeing lesbian couples together makes me yearn to be part of my own lesbian couple.  It’s this visceral thing, nothing I ever felt when seeing heterosexual couples or when I used to think I was straight and that “ah, a relationship might not be so terrible.”  No, it’s much stronger and deeper than that, and I don’t really know how to adequately explain it.  But I know I want it.  Not enough to jump into a bad relationship, because I am still me, after all.

I am not doing my feelings justice here.  I am not explaining myself in a way that satisfies me.  I am just trying to get the words out, to feel them, to mull them in my mind, to chew them into something recognizable.


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