Part Two: Jokes

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Jokes..60/40.
Alright, women don’t suck. I like them a lot. So soft…I digress.

Here’s the issue, most bisexual women I’ve met are women that have grown-up firmly ensconced within the hetero-normative culture. I guess that’s normal. I didn’t, so it seems strange to me. I have been on my own and with women since age 15 and much of my prior life was spent in large children’s homes or other atypical situations that didn’t firmly entrench heterosexual expectations into my psyche. I literally grew up within the lesbian community and I feel like that was a lucky thing.

Hetero behaviors  brought to my attention:

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wtf??

* First contact and subsequent contact will be initiated by the other person, though “likes” are acceptable.
* The other party will make the first move
* Direct communication of needs, desires and any other type of directness is “aggressive”
* Some weird equation that includes dates + self-worth,  allows sex to happen.
* Attention..omfg, so much attention is required!
* Height requirements. I didn’t believe this one but after looking at a bunch of lady profiles, yes it is true, if you are a man.

 

There is more but let me say, this is mostly long-standing complaints by straight men, but they might be bitter. The odds are not in their favor.  I still don’t understand the behaviors. I know they happen, I’ve experienced some of it and the reactions I get about myself on dates with men is rather persuasive evidence that the above mentioned complaints are common enough to be worth mention.

My personal issue is that male-centric bisexuals have no idea how to date other women. They are used to being dated, and taken out. They are used to playing a game of passivity and expecting a great deal of attention. As often as not, they don’t know how to interact with another women on an intimate level. I don’t mean sex (a little I do) but connecting with another women on an independent and personal level.

My dates have been one sided, conversations that require me to do the heavy lifting, because I am “the aggressive one”. Did we not all read the same articles about asking questions on dates and with new people??

lBFGIuxI am really not that special, I just read stuff and have friends and projects and do stuff. These facts are why I am not always available, on my phone or texting you pictures of every damn minute of my day. This should not be special, this should be normal. Please tell me something neat, interesting or weird that you do. PLEASE!

As my final complaint, no I do not want to be your first. God save me from female virgins. I  am so past my “exploration” phase. I don’t feel any need to teach, coach or otherwise instruct women on how to touch, talk and love another woman. The only words of wisdom I can offer are these; give what you want and expect, the Golden Rule applies here as well. no-virgins-red_jpg

I love women, I always will. They are beautiful in way, I don’t know I will ever feel about a man. I also miss boobs..a lot.

That being said, I think I am incapable of dating them at the moment. That can always change, I am marking no lines in the sand but after 20 years of being with women, I’m okay with a break. On a personal note, I tend to choose crazy women who don’t like me, so it might be for the best. My judgement can’t be trusted and I think a board of approval might be necessary for me to resume dating women.

 

 

 

 

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Part One: Issues OR 99 problems.

I

Dating was not what I expected. I’m not sure what I thought it might be, but it wasn’t this.

After years in a marriage with another woman, I started dating men and bisexual women. I have always been bisexual but just the opposite of what most people were familiar with. Instead of messing around with women and dating men, I messed around with men and dated/married women.While my serious relationship were always with women, the fact of my sexuality didn’t change, it just wasn’t in attendance most of the time.

Now, a year and a half into dating, I had come to some conclusions, none of which were particularly helpful.

First, there was a very big difference between female-centric bisexuals and masculine-centric bisexuality. I had decided to only date women that were truly okay with my bisexuality, which basically meant other bisexuals. Yeah, not the most well thought out idea I’d ever had. The pool seemed to be shallow if I wanted anything of value.

37478095There were lots of couples wanting to spice up their marriages,on the hunt for a fabled Unicorn . Not me. I don’t need a lot of attention but I was past the point of no connection and just being someone else’s sexual plaything. I could find sex easily, connection was harder to come by (I wasn’t the only one that felt this way but I’ll get to that later). Which lead to the larger issue with the women I had come across so far.

 

 

The real issue I was running into regarding women, was that for the most part, they sucked. Not well either…

I can hear you now saying how very unfair this blanket statement is. How incredibly anti-feminist! Perhaps I am both unfair and anti-feminist, but I am also right.

First, a question; was heterosexual dating truly the combative, yet passive aggressive shit-show I was gleaning from my dips into the tepid pool? I really hope I’m wrong.

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“There is not such thing as fair. It’s a concept people made up to feel better about their lives and their inability to live them”
~ John Parker III (My childhood therapist. It’s all starting t make sense isn’t it?)

Hunt

I missed Saturday! Here is “H” and hopefully I’ll have “I” up by tonight.

H

Shauna sat across from the brunette with the green eyes and smiled. She watched her fidget and finger the napkin with her drink on it.

The brunette..what was her name? Melissa? No, Marissa, that was it. Marissa was telling her how she had just gotten out of a bad relationship where she had felt like she was never enough. Shauna nodded, asked her a few more questions and leaned in to hear her better. She watched the color rise on Marissa’s cheeks, a faint blush. Shauna brushed her fingers against Marissa’s as she picked up her own drink and felt the air strain.

Shauna loved this moment. This was where she knew she had won the hunt and only had to claim the prize. She was here for an obligatory party that she had grown bored with, finally wandering away from her group to the upstairs bar. She had sat beside the brunette because the seat was available but only a small amount of conversation had revealed the girls need to be wanted. Shauna was good at this, creating a small space where need and want came to the surface quickly. She could tease out the need in people. This was her gift. She loved their need and fed it.

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She reached out and brushed a strand of hair from Marissa’s face, pushing it behind her ear. The girl stopped talking and looked at Shauna like a deer caught in headlights. Shauna resisted the string urge to grin.

Instead she leaned in a little bit further in as if to whisper in the girls ear, her long hair mingling with Marissa’s,creating a curtain of mingled strands.

“I’m going kiss you pretty girl” Shauna whispered and turned her face just enough to brush her lips gently across the girl’s. It was a sweet soft touch, barely a kiss, but she felt the air strain further until it snapped. Marissa’s lips were slightly parted, her breath was a little faster, her pupils had dilated to pinpricks and that blush had turned her cheeks a charming pink

“Why’d you do that?” Marissa questioned, sounding a bit lost and confused

“Because I wanted to. Do you want me to kiss you again?”

“Yes” Marissa said as her head shook in a contradictory motion.

Shauna did allow herself to smile now and slid her hand into Marissa’s soft hair to cradle the base of her skull. She tilted her face to the left and slowly came closer to the girl’s lips, giving her every opportunity to say no or push away. She smiled against the girls lips and darted her tongue out to lick Marissa’s bottom lip. The girl startled but laughed and her whole body sighed and relaxed into Shauna’s hold. She parted her lips and Shauna felt the girl take the kiss over.

She let the girl make the kiss hers, it always had to be their choice to be caught.

 

 

 

Give In (Sappy Love Warning; you have been warned)

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I walked down the path with his hand in mine. We were laughing, harassing one another int he way we had become comfortable with. We had fallen in love so hard and we had made the conscious decision to let that be okay. We would not edit or stop ourselves or try to be anything but what we were, pathetically enraptured with one another. We just gave in and there is something wonderfully freeing in that. I was routinely thankful that my messages to him and his to me were not public knowledge, we were sickening in that John Hughes, 16 Candles type of romantic comedy ending way. This kind of stuff didn’t even make it to trashy romances.

 

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I could just hear the editor saying “This just isn’t believable, no one talks like this, This isn’t Middle School. Don’t waste my time with this drivel.” For some reason the editor in my head is suspiciously similar to Old Man Jameson at the Daily Bugle , who would have been a terrible Romance book editor.

We just got lost in each other, in a way that hadn’t happened to me since I was young, maybe even first love kind of lost. It helped that the sex was Uh-MAZING, which totally could make it into some steamy romance scenes, but I digress.So great sexy time and he brought me steak and cooked for me. That’s a good man right there. He brought me presents which wasn’t my thing. I’ve never been comfortable with gifts. I will help build your house, hold you while you fall to pieces, show up with dinner or take your dogs or children as needed, but I never put much truck in gifts. He did, He loved to bring small things, a favorite tea he saw me order or a chocolate that I didn’t get because it was too expensive, berries out of season that I loved, small thoughtful things. The nature of the gifts was why I had gradually grown to accept and appreciate the “why” behind it. It was the same reason I showed up like super girl to help and fix, it was just his way of saying “I think of you. Your smile makes me happy, I love you. This made me think of you and I want you to know you are loved. I hear you. I want you to know I am here, I am present for you”

I needed to turn this over in my head and examine it from many sides before I got the right angle. We were saying the same things with different languages. This understanding a80b0d9b8b2af767cb415d3bae01ad9ballowed our communication to go from parallel to integrated.

I loved the discovery of new things through the eyes of someone who was passionate. I loved learning from someone that loved what they did. He loved me and I was learning to see me, through him. We were both damaged. Who wasn’t by their mid-thirties? We had baggage, divorces and issues aplenty. Yet we were finding out how to love again, more specifically, learning to love differently through each other and that is still rather sickening but I don’t want to stop learning…or holding his hand.

“Love is like a virus. It can happen to anybody at any time.”
Maya Angelou

F is for Flagging, Fatigued and Finished

F

F is for Flagging, Fatigued and Finished.

Today is day 6 of the AtoZ blogging challenge and it is a day that has kicked my butt. I am exhausted, so for today please accept my apologies for no new story. I can’t believe I’m missing the opportunity to use “fetish”..I really am done.

As a thought let me put this forth, F is also for Family and Friend, but what if they are one in the same? I have frequently lamented the lack of language to denote the importance of found family. Many people I know have people they consider family that share no blood, but there are no words that I know of to get that across. Friendship is often dismissed when confronted with the idea of “family”, they are not on par with one another when it comes to triageing time spent and obligations . I have run into this issue, because my partners have had family that always took precedence, and I have had friendships questioned over bad over because somehow that was allowable. I would never question someones loyalty to a loved one, and I have never understood this idea.

How do you define the indefinable? What do you call the Aunts and Uncles to your children,  that are your sisters and brothers by heart, if not blood? I bet there is a German word for this, there is always a German word…

Just a thought. I hope all of ya’ll are having a great time with this challenge. When I can keep my eyes ope, I love doing it. Have any of you made friends and connections from it?

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PS Recently I have been able to refer clients to one of my oldest friend’s law practice and she has done right by each one. That’s all great and stuff, but the point is we are grown-ups and have been friends since age 10 and every time we do some grown-ass shit, I feel like we’re gonna get caught out and someone will call us out for playing at this whole grown-up thing. When I have to send her official legal documents, I try to put Winnie the Poo stickers on the envelopes because i know it will make her smile. Most days I am still surprised I’m an adult.

 

 

 

 

 

Eli

E

 

Eli surreptitiously checked himself out, in the reflection of the glass before he went into the restaurant. Nothing seemed glaringly out-of-place but the surface was not a perfect mirror, so how could he really be sure. He couldn’t of course. He had done all the usual things, a mint for his breath, no spinach or other foods that might lead to teeth snafus and gone over the dating sites Top Ten First Date Mistakes. He had at least 10 conversation starters if there was a lull, plus questions he prepared if he got nervous and couldn’t think of anything off the cuff.  Was that normal? Did he remember antiperspirant?

He followed the large woman with the proportionately large gold bag into the restaurant, remembering to shift his shoulders back to give an impression of confidence and self-esteem.  He was early of course, he was always early. He had to create diversions at home so he wouldn’t be too early, but he was still there 15 minutes before the meet-up time of 7pm. He waited behind the large gold bag lady as she spoke to the hostess and was then lead to her party’s table int he back left corner. He watched as she was greeted by a tall thin man who stood up as she arrived. He kissed her on the cheek and gave her a hug. Both fo them were beaming. Eli saw the woman’s face for the first time and noticed that she was attractive int he way some women of a certain weight can be, they could carry it well, or maybe they were just comfortable in their flesh, he never knew. She had round cheeks that were blushing at the words the tall man was saying, a smile stretched across her face, suddenly making her pretty. They laughed and sat down across from one another

“Sir?”

” I’m sorry” Eli started and came back to himself, realizing that it was probably not the first time the young hostess had tried to get his attention while he stared at strangers. Pretty, too much eye make-up, too young, his brain quickly categorized the girl and then followed her. Nice to look upon, but probably barely out of her diapers.

She led him to a table that was at an angle from the older couple he had been so intent upon. He thanked the girl, sat down and pulled out his tablet to check work emails, but couldn’t resist checking the couple out again. He could tell they were on a date. They were flirting, laughing and arguing over menu choices in the way people did just for the joy of trading soft barbs. Eli wondered if he would still be dating when he was their age, which looked to be at least a decade beyond his mid-thirty vantage point. Neither of them seemed awkward, their conversation seemed to flow like water and each of them had some part of them touch the other; a finger, hand or knee constantly found its way to brush or bump into the other. Eli recognized the dance, he could sing the lyrics, but somehow the two never got together and made the perfect kind of moment he was witnessing, where everything was as it should be and neither party was conscious of every syllable and body language cue. He often felt as if he was following all the directions to the letter yet was always a few steps behind, stepping on toes and confused about what just happened.

“..and never the twain shall meet..” he heard the words come out of his mouth just was the noticed the hostess heading his way, another guest trailing behind her.

From behind the young hostess emerged a woman he recognized from her pictures online. In the pictures she looked different, but he Vital_Partners_dating_etiquette2supposed he did too.  She was curvy in the way that men loved but women often doubted on themselves. She had dark hair that  hung straight and shining to just below her shoulders, which she was nervously pushing behind her ears.  She wore what he had identified as “date” clothes, a skirt and blouse with a cardigan and paired with a nice looking medium height heel, that wasn’t too dressy or too revealing or too conservative. He recognized it because he wore the male version of the same uniform as advised  by various dating articles. What was good research without reading the corresponding data from the other side?

 

At first he couldn’t see her face, until she seemed to remember the same rules he had read and lifted her face as she too, straightened her shoulders and raised her head to greet him with an almost certain smile.

Her round eyes were that nebulous shade of hazel that never seemed to make a decision between green and brown.  He noticed a small collection of freckles dusted the bridge of her nose as a mouth that was just slightly too wide and full to fall within he median, smiled and turned her plain yet pretty enough face into a thing of beauty.

Eli reached out and grasped her outstretched hand in a not to firm grip to find the same barely there clamminess that is own nervousness often produced.

“Hi, Eli? I’m Olive, it’s nice to meet you”

The sat down, perused menus, chatted and her hand brushed his. He looked over and saw the older couple leaning in to one another, oblivious to the rest of the world and smiled.

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Dance

D

Lucy liked to sing in the store while she shopped, and enjoyed the odd looks when she broke into a little booty shaking in the aisles.  With Pandora on shuffle, a list in hand and a plan of attack, this had become a weekly ritual right along with laundry and picking her daughter up and getting ice cream on Fridays after school.

She liked the smiles she got and outright laughter when she was a little too loud and slightly off-key or doing a little dance to music only she could hear, though this wasn’t always the case. She had been taught to be quieter, because she was always too loud, to laugh softly when she brayed like a donkey and to just tone all of “this” down. She was too abrasive, too passionate, too everything. From her childhood to her marriage, she had been told to be a little less than herself, or a lot less really.

It took Lucy much too long to realize she had let people tell her these things and it had been her choice to change for them. That look in the mirror had been rough, but she had decided changes must be made, quickly. She started small, and this act of song and dance, this small act of inappropriate behavior was one of her first acts of bravery. What did people think of her? What would they say about her? She didn’t want people o look at her and think she was strange, that she wasn’t normal.  Why couldn’t she just be normal??

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Yet Lucy hated stores and shopping but she loved music and dancing, so she decided to try the latter to negate the former as an experiment and tiny act of rebellion.

At first it was hard and she stopped moving if someone joined her in the  aisle and  started whispering under her breath if they were within earshot. Sometimes she completely failed and became silent and still like everyone else around her, like a normal girl, but she kept at it. Soon, she realized she was making more people smile than frown and she caught them singing along, winking or trying to catch her when she passed them. She realized that they were laughing with her and not at her and the perception she had of herself and the the world she lived in, shifted on its axis just enough to let more light through.

As she sang and helped an older man get a collection of bottled water into his cart, he thanked her and smiled with her.

Much larger changes came after, many were still in process now, but this small thing that most wouldn’t consider an act of the utmost bravery, made her heart sing along with her voice every time she did it.

dance.hm