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I want to be with someone who is excited to be with me.

I want to be with someone who will take care of me, just as much as I take care of them.  I don’t know how to let someone do that, but I want to learn.*

I want to be with someone who will cook food for me when I have nothing in me to cook for myself.

I want to be with someone who thinks my ridiculousness is endearing.

I want to be with someone who is all about the sex, because I am all about the sex.

I want to be with someone who is willing to throw caution to the wind and let the cards fall where they may.  (This might loop back to being excited to be with me.)

I want to figure it out as we go, without fear or worry.  I want to live and love and laugh together.

I believe this is possible. I just don’t exactly know how to find it.

*Side story: remember that work party I referenced going to with B back in January, I think?  I never said much about that weekend, only that I learned not to mix alcohol.  But here’s what happened.  I went to B’s work party, met her co-workers and bosses, bowled, had a great time.  Unfortunately, while I did not drink much, I did make the mistake (rookie move!) of having liquor, then beer, then liquor.  I had no idea what was coming.  Thankfully, B realized I was going to be sick and we made a quick getaway back to her place.  Let me remind you that at that time, I had only know her a few weeks, so this is extra embarrassing for me.  We barely made it to her place (in a taxi she paid for), well, we didn’t make it, since we stopped about a block early so I could begin my night of puking.  I spent that night crawling between her bed (she slept on an air mattress) and the toilet.  Then, the next day, I was still so sick that I sat still at her place until around 10 or 11am when I could actually walk upright and drive home.  She spent the night covering me with blankets, making sure I had water, even made me ginger tea and an egg (that I couldn’t eat) the next morning.  I think this event is how our friendship was sealed.  Anyway, the point of that whole story is that I cannot remember a time when I was so dependent on someone else.  It was hard and kind of horrible, to be honest.


The break from dating is still on. I have not not changed my mind in the last three days.

However, I have identified what I need: a starter girlfriend.  (Incidentally, I used to tell one of my friends that all he needed was a starter girlfriend, but that was before he came out, so when he did, I amended it to starter boyfriend.  It seemed to have worked well for him, not that I think he went into any of his relationships expecting them to be short term.)

I think I view this idea as a trial relationship.  Something to get my feet wet, to try things out, to see how it feels to date a woman.  That with the addition of the fact that I can’t seem to wrap my mind around the idea of dating just one woman long-term at this point.  There are still too many women out there to date…

I still question the ethics of this.  When I start parsing it out, it comes down to wanting to date a woman that I’m attracted to (obviously), but not one I’d think I could be with forever (I use that word here loosely, not literally).  I recognize that it’s dangerous business (so to speak) to plan to date someone short term–emotions can get involved that were never intended.  (I feel as though I am definitely at risk for this, since I’m still learning how to keep emotions out of casual dating.)  But I’m less concerned for my own emotions than being an ass to someone else.

I suppose that being upfront about it, like the bisexual butch recommended in a comment on one of my previous posts, would be technically the right thing to do.  However… I may not intend to do the right thing after all?

It’s an interesting pastime for me, learning about how I actually feel about dating and sex and love (among other things).  I had ideas before, based on a lack of interest in men, but now that the real me is unleashed, I’m still learning who she is.  And I have to tell you, I’m liking her, regardless of her potentially sketchy ethics.

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 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.

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.

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?


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.

My cats are whiners.

There are too many thoughts sometimes.

And why are other people so awful so often?

I want to cloister myself away and only surround myself with those who are dear to me.

I constantly feel as though I say or do the wrong thing, usually with good intentions.  I always feel as though I should be over that by now–either the doing so or the feeling so.

Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever leave my organization, or if I’ll just keep answering phones for the rest of my life.  I mean, what if that’s all I am actually capable of doing?  Sure, I can aspire to maybe an office manager someday, elsewhere, but could I move out of this context?  Where I am, it is doubtful if something will open up–although not impossible.  But how long should I wait?  Should I?  On the other hand, it is not as if there are other opportunities just waiting to snatch me up.  And I like where I am…  Sigh.

I want a shinier version of my life.  I want to be energetic, friendly, outgoing, fun.  I want to not be afraid of making new friends, meeting new people.  But these things are not who I am.  Maybe I should just want to be me and be content with that.  I’m going to blame December for my present gloominess.

Unrequited love is an interesting thing, isn’t it?  I think I like it better than actual, returned, two-way love.  That must say something about me–and nothing good.  But returned love (speaking of romantic love, of course) is messy and nothing I’ve ever really experienced.  It’s one of those unknowns that the universe may or may not have in store for me.


Sometimes I am just so tired of being alone.  This weekend is one of those times.  I just get to thinking about all the things I do alone, and how it so often would be much better with another person.

I mean, I think this until I imagine someone else’s mess (dishes, laundry, lack of general tidiness).

But making and eating food together, sharing cups of coffee in the morning, movies in the evening, and someone around to talk about life.

And I have this rotten desire to be in love.  I don’t know if its because I have so many friends for whom their love life is going splendidly or if it’s just one of those times.  It’s been a long time since I’ve loved anyone in that way.

I don’t want to be this person, though.  I want to be the person who is one hundred percent satisfied with being by herself.  I think I am most of the time, but I want to be all of the time.  I’m 32 and a failure at dating–what other options do I really have? (ha ha)

I could get a roommate, but I’m sort of over having roommates unless they’re the type you’re also sleeping with. (Just saying.)

That’s all, really.  I just sort of wanted to put this out into the universe.  It’s nothing new, but it’s where I find myself.  Again.

I have been enjoying watching a friend fall in love with his first boyfriend.  It is delightful and surprising and beautiful.

It has made me painfully aware, however, that I have never been as transparent or vulnerable with a significant other as my friend is able to be.  I want that for myself, but I’ve never been able, or at least, never been willing.  I’m not sure which.

I want that sort of heedlessness for myself.  I want to be able to run headlong into love without holding back.

Maybe someday.

I had one of those weeks… where you’re just angry… and it’s so frustrating.

I think a lot of it is that my folks have been gone on vacation, and I’ve had to do all those extra things that they normally do.  The biggest time sucker being that my sister doesn’t clean up after herself.  So I get home and there is a sink full of dishes.  And I wake up and there are more dishes.  And it’s not my mess.  She doesn’t contribute.  These are things that make me feel utter fear at the idea of ever being married.  Because thinking of the stereotypical guy, combined with societal gender expectations, who do you think the cleaning would fall to, regardless of work situations?  Me, the woman.  Screw that.

Anyway, it made me irrationally angry at times.  Or I’m just angry.  I’m not sure.  I think I broke one of our vacuums last night (unintentionally).  I’m not sure if it’s all the way broken or it just needs a little TLC.  But I was in no mood for it.

And the cats have ripped three holes in the bottom of my box springs and have enjoyed frolicking inside it.  Last night a friend suggested pinning a sheet on the bottom of it, so I am trying that, and I hope it is successful.  It’s so irritating that they’re ruining my stuff.  And in particular, I’m fairly certain it was my sister’s cat who created the holes, not that my cats aren’t above enjoying the destruction.  Damn cats.

And I’m lonely.  So entirely lonely.  I’m lucky if I manage to see or talk to one friend a week, and have often gone much longer than that without any significant interactions with friends.  And it is not for lack of trying on my part.  Although, I have recently decided that I’m done trying.  I’m not going to reach out to friends anymore–none of them–and maybe then I’ll feel better about being rejected.  Because I won’t be being actively rejected, just passively.  Which is always better, right?

God.  I just need to move and start over in a new area.  New friends.  New life.  New routines.  New, new, new!

I was thinking I’d try to go to church when I move.  Because I was feeling friendlier to communal faith again, but now I’m just not sure.  Maybe I should just give up and accept my fate as a lapsed Christian who lives a private faith.  I can get into heaven by the skin of my teeth, to quote whatever verse that is from whatever gospel it’s from.  If heaven even exists.  (That’s not anger speaking, that’s a true doubt.)

And my ex-work-crush (henceforth called “J”) is one of the kindest and caring guys I have met in a long time.  And I can’t help but think that if I had a good network of friends still, that I wouldn’t be so attracted to him.  Because I think one of the most attractive things about him is that he is kind and pays attention and enjoys my company.

So life is basically just discouraging at the moment, although I still have hope for the future.  if I can just find an apartment in a kind of bad part of town (i.e. where I can afford to live), then I’m set.  I just fear finding a place in my price range.

Damn you married folk who have two incomes. The only benefits I see to marriage are pragmatic.  Because I think I actually believe that the majority of people get married not because they don’t want to live without the specific person they married, but because they wanted to be married.  So they settled and compromised and got married to a person.  Not to any great love of their life, but to a warm body, essentially.

Perhaps I am just jaded.  J seems to think so.  But he has hope that eventually I’ll get better.