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Things are slowly picking up at work. Perhaps I can stay until I’m qualified to find a job in coding (by qualified, I mean kickass enough).

Speaking of coding, I’m looking forward to doing homework this week, if only because I will have a homework buddy to slog through it with me.  Plus, my teacher gave me the rest of the assignments ahead of time (as requested), so I can attempt to finish the coursework before my best friend’s wedding.

Oh! I was accepted into the certificate program, starting in January.  So that’s a go.

In other news, gay news, not gay news, my gay life news, that is… (Worst sentence ever, and I’m keeping it.)  I am so over conservative, Christian friends who can’t get over the fact that I’m gay and just accept it as a good thing.  Fuck them.  They can just take a walk and leave me out of it.  I’m not interested in being their token gay friend. I’m not interested in them working out their issues about homosexuality with me as their guinea pig.  And it always feels harsh when I communicate this to them (in gentler words, honest), but I have a duty to myself first.  Plus, I can’t kick out my family, and I already have to deal with their struggles about my gayness, so…  Ugh.

Moving on. Today is a busy day.  Actually, this whole month is busy what with homework and the wedding and all.  Not to mention I’m still trying to squeeze in dates where I can.  September will be a better month.

And the girl who gave me her number last week?  She’s involved in a pyramid scheme. Fairly certain she was trying to groom me to join. Strike one, two, and three.

I went on a first date last week (actually, I went on a total of three first dates last week, all with women on the femme side of things) and the woman I was with called me “futch,” which I didn’t know what that meant at first.  And then she told me her interpretation: feminine butch.  Hm.  I’ve looked it up on urbandictionary.com, and the definition seems solid, but I don’t think it describes me.

It seems to me that futch has more to do with intentionally blurring the lines between femme and butch. But I prefer soft butch for myself.  I have a feminine face–there is nothing I can do about that, and I refuse to be stereotypically hyper-masculine (as previously discussed), but I visually present as masculine.  Soft butch just fits.  At least, it fits better than any other label I’ve come across.

Now, back to my confusion about femmes, because I’ve been doing more thinking.  I don’t think I’ll ever go for a true femme. Speaking of which, I don’t know what it is, but I can’t get behind women with long hair.  It just doesn’t do anything for me, and if anything, it’s actually a turn-off.  (There’s just so much of it… gah!)

I think my confusion lies in that femmes have such traditional beauty.  They’re nice to look at.  But in the end, I don’t want to get any of them in bed…  Now, give me an androgynous or butch woman, and wowza.  They’re just so sexy.

I am afraid of femmes.

Let that sink in for a moment. Afraid of femmes.

This shouldn’t come as too much of a surprise to anyone who knows me. I have never known what to do with feminine women–those who can do their hair and make-up and who know how to dress…

When I came out, I found myself more attracted to butch women (like myself) or androgynous women.  But lately, things are changing. [Why is this year nothing but changes? Can’t anything be steady, for at least a little while?]

I’ve realized that I’m not really into butches as much as androgynous women.  And recently, I’ve found myself drawn to the femme side of androgyny.  I’m still super nervous about hard femmes, so I tend to avoid them.

My big concern is that I don’t want to get trapped in heteronormative gender norms if I start dating femmes. I will not be made into the traditional “man” of the relationship. It’s a partnership or nothing. I’m happily gay. I don’t want to mirror a stereotypical straight relationship. And, if anything, my masculine presentation as a woman should defy gender norms, not give into them.

The other thing is, what do I do about my nervousness (fear) about femmes?  They just seem so entirely other… beautiful, feminine, put-together…

I went on a date with a femme last night, and she was a delight. She had such clean lines–I don’t know how to explain that better, but I’m talking about her outfit, from her top to her skirt to her shoes–it just flowed in an entirely delicious way.

But part of me doesn’t feel like I’m in the same league as femmes. That I’m not attractive enough or butch enough or strong enough to be with someone who is so okay with being feminine, when I am so clearly not. (Although, I have thought that it must be wonderful to be with someone who is not also harboring body dysphoria, whose body I can enjoy without hesitation. This may assume too much or perhaps too little…)

And of course, all of this is subject to change. :)

I know I’ve said this before, but this last year has been nothing but changes.  The problem is that I think they’re really starting to catch up with me.  And for someone who doesn’t like change, it’s been hard to have nothing feel steady.

I continue to question if my job was the right choice.  I think it will be, but it is making me feel awful in the meantime.  I don’t do well with downtime, and my trainer is terrible at training.  She is just not a teacher, as much as she may know her stuff.  So I’m feeling insecure on a regular basis from that.

And now I’m looking my move date in the face.  Mid-July is coming quickly, and I need to really think about finding a new apartment.  I want to move; I got a new job so that I could move, but good gracious, I do not like moving. Plus the housing market here is incredibly daunting, so that does not help.

I’m tired, sick and tired, of hearing about the bathroom controversy from stupid straight people.  I’m also tired of being the token gay friend and having to hear about it every time I talk to whomever it is that has assigned me that position in their life. (Not sure I can afford to cut any more friends at this point, though; plus they have no idea what they’re doing.)

Not to mention that I’m insecure about LM.  Not about wanting to see her, but about if she truly wants to see me.  I am glad we’re not starting anything before she leaves because that would be 300% too much pressure.  It’s much better to just let it be what it is, to see if it goes anywhere, than to try to force it.

And this weekend I am booked, again.  It is only things and people I want to see, but I’m feeling so overwhelmed at the moment that the only thing I want to do is curl up on my couch and be alone.  Maybe today will go well, and I will feel better by tomorrow.

I don’t spend too much time talking about things that bum me on on here (at least not lately), mostly because I don’t like to see them written out, but also because lately I can’t remain focused on the sad for long.  There’s too much good to explore and feel.

However, one point of constant hurt is my family.  I don’t like to complain because I feel like I’m pretty lucky in that regard.  They haven’t disowned me or been terrible about me being gay.  Things could be so much worse.  But…

My brother called today.  Granted, he has a lot of shit going on in his own life with his soon to be ex-wife.  That is its own source of sadness and hurt, and plenty of it.  But near the end of the conversation, I made the mistake of asking if the parents had said anything recently about my gayness.

Mom is in denial, as I suspected.  She seems to think that this is a phase, and I’ll go back to dating men at some point; that I’ll realize this was all a mistake and things will be back to normal.  Dad just doesn’t like to think about it, really.  He has a hard time talking about it, using the words to say what I am.  But he also seems to think it’s his fault somehow.  And my brother, the brother I have always adored and looked up to, also isn’t a fan–which I had suspected, but am apparently masochistic enough to ask for clarification.  I didn’t need an update on my sister–I already know that she thinks it’s bad, but, of course, like with all of them, still want me in her life.

The problem is it’s not the same as it was before I came out.  I was never close with them, but this is worse.  And the words they use…  Being gay is compared to mistakes, bad choices, sin, addiction, being a bad person, etc, etc, etc.  (This, oddly, in my defense when my brother allegedly was trying to explain to my dad how he can still have me in his life–there are people you are friends with, but don’t like all their life choices…)

It makes me feel physically ill.

My mom wants me to come over for Easter next week.  I can’t do it.  But I feel guilty about not going.  It’s so fucked up.  Part of my problem is that I do, for some reason, want them to stay in my life.  So then I feel a responsibility to make them see how happy I am now, how good it is, how right it is.  But they’re never going to see that, and it’s only hurting me.  Still, I can’t completely cut them out.  I just can’t.  I just need them in small doses, infrequently…

Fuck.

I went out for drinks last night with some of my friends/old co-workers.  It was a fucking blast.  We went to my favourite dive and just sat for hours.  I told way too many details about my dating life/sex life, though. For reals.  What the hell was I thinking?!  But I’m not going to repeat them here, so don’t get excited.

One of co-workers, who I’m not as good of friends with, is a straight chick who is kind of into me.  I feel weird saying that.  But, I’ve felt it ever since we started talking/hanging out.  She really wants to make out with me, which is apparently a thing some straight chicks like to do with lesbians?  Anyway, I’m not opposed to that, because women, but I’m not into her at all (straight and very femme).  Moreover, I certainly won’t be making that move!  In fact, I will probably avoid it, since I feel that’s the best course of action…

And she wanted to know why my queer friend (who is in a long-term, committed, monogamous relationship) and I had never made out.  We sort of just looked at each other and reiterated the relationship.  I mean, just because she’s queer and I’m gay doesn’t mean we’re going to fool around…  Is that really a perception?  So weird.

Not that I’m opposed to friends with benefits, but they have to be single friends. I mean, c’mon.  I’m totally the monogamous type.  I mean, I will be, once I settle down.  Which I have no timeline for.  I like to keep it open–who knows when I will meet the right woman?  In the meantime… bring them on.  The more the better.  (I feel like I am talking a bigger game than I can deliver at the moment.)

Also, talking with the best friend the other night, I said how I think I will be more of a sexual aggressor  instigator (not in a bad way, in the making moves/pursuing way) after I feel more comfortable with my skills in the lady sex department.  The best friend totally agrees.  I need to do more research in this department… Hands on research, that is… Ahem.

I’m so happy I’m finally dating ladies.  It’s amazing.

You guys… I bought another pair of skinny jeans (same cut as the others, but in black).  What is happening to me?!

And I also found the door to the exercise room, so with any luck I’ll be using it on the regular.

Now, for all the really important stuff.

I totally sent this completely humiliating facebook message to a woman I went to high school with.  I’m fairly certain we weren’t friends (I say it like that because my memory is quite foggy of those awful years), and I have a feeling she probably didn’t know who I am or won’t remember me (she was a cool kid; I was a nerd).  But she was cute then, I just looked her up last night, and she’s super hot now.  Like, oh my god.  So, I may or may not have had a few glasses of wine yesterday and while the effects were mostly gone but lingering, I sent this woman a message basically saying all that.  I don’t even know if she’s gay or single or anything.  Last night it seemed brilliant.  This morning, not quite as much.

Regardless, I love every aspect of being out.  I love being allowed to check out women, to flirt with them.  I love feeling like the world of dating is open and wonderful.  I love that I’m feeling things I didn’t know you could feel.  It’s the things you heard you should have felt when you first went through adolescence, but I never did–I blamed it on being a late bloomer.  And you know, 20 years later, I’m finally catching up.  (ha.ha.)

Of course, my family is still in denial.  Hanging out with them is hard, not because they are being terrible, but because there is an unspoken rule to not bring it up, and right now, my life is largely dominated by my exploration of the queer world.  So I don’t know what to say to them or to tell them.  I don’t want to shove it in their faces, to make them come to terms with it on my terms.  But I do worry about how it will go when I finally bring a girlfriend over for them to meet.  I actually dread that moment. (Not that I will let that worry ruin my fun now!)

I’m allowing myself to be fully comfortable in my own skin.  I’m learning what that looks like for me.  Even clothing choices–I’m slowly seeking out clothes that only make me feel kick-ass, and getting rid of the ones that just don’t.  I’m experimenting with new styles (skinny jeans? boots?) and figuring out if they’re for me.  It’s empowering.

I’m going on dates and enjoying them. (I can hardly get over how wonderful that is.)  I’m meeting new friends.  I’m finding a place to belong.

It’s great.

I’ve finally given up on not shaving my legs and now have beautifully smooth legs again.

It was hard for me to decide to give up on it, because fuck patriarchy.  But in the end, I prefer smooth legs: I am a product of my culture and society, after all.  I am 100% fine with other women not shaving, and I wish I could care less about it so that I would join them long term.  But…  smooth legs!

I also like jumping into things completely, then deciding if I want to stay or not.  I spent an entire summer with unshaved legs.  I feel like I gave it the old college try.  And now that I’m out, and not trying as hard to be undesirable to men, I am more willing to do things like shave my legs because it now has (and perhaps should have always had) nothing to do with men and what they like.  Men are just a moot point.  Which I think is fucking fantastic.

I also took the time to paint my fingernails black yesterday.  I love black fingernails, but rarely do it because painting fingernails is a pain in the ass.  And for all the effort you put forth, it rarely lasts long enough to make it feel worth it.  I also kind of suck at painting my fingernails.  Alas.

I keep thinking about starting a new blog, getting a fresh start.  It’s a habit of mine, but one I haven’t indulged since I started this blog–I think 5 years ago?

Anyway…

It’s official: I’m fully out.  The parents finally saw the email.  I wouldn’t say they’re happy (ahem), but they haven’t been terrible (yet).  Their responses?  Dad sent a text, and Mom just might be in denial.

But who cares about all that.  I am finally able to say what I want, when I want, where I want.  Yay!  Now onto the pursuit of life, love, and happiness.

Speaking of the pursuit of happiness: sometimes I get confused between what everyone else thinks about something and what just Christian culture thinks about something.  Now, I know that in Christian culture, it’s frowned upon to pursue happiness because happiness is fleeting and vapid and… all those other things.  You should have higher goals.  But this isn’t a universal thought, right?  The world at large doesn’t believe that it’s inherently bad or shallow to pursue happiness?  Or does it?

Someone needs to tell me.

Along those lines, sort of, there have been many more late nights in my life lately, but every one of them has been worth it so far. I’m definitely enjoying myself, despite the sleepiness the next morning.