Playing House (a femme's view on a butch's cock)

She said to me, "I can't wait for my business to get going so you don't have to worry about working anymore..."

(...or something like that.)

But I like working.  

"Just while you are in school... you know full time... so you can focus on your school."

(It was along those lines.)

But I like working.

I like meeting new people who are becoming new parents.  I like talking with women who have never had a nurse explain to them the why or the how of what is happening to their bodies in labor... and delivery.  I like looking at a scared father, mother, grandmother, partner, girlfriend, boyfriend, daughter, sister, friend in the face and saying, "Do you have any questions... at all...?"  I like seeing their eyes scan the room, and look back at me almost in disbelief that I am asking them if they have any questions.  I like waiting... for as long as it takes... for them to reply.  

She said to me, "I want to be able to take care of you... and the kids."

(She's the perfect butch to my femme...)

But I like working.

It doesn't even feel like work some days.  The nights when I am so busy I don't have time to pee... but I make time to swallow lukewarm coffee by the pints... those are the nights it feels even less like work.  Because I know I am busy helping them, the women.  I like showing her husband or mother or sister or partner or whoeverthefuck is supporting her... how to help her, so that they can become a part of this process and not "just" an observer.  I like the thrill and delight that I see on her partner's face when he or she sees that new life slip out, finally free from confinement... then the look on her partner's face when he or she realizes just exactly how amazingly strong this woman, this MOTHER, really is.

She said to me, "That is... if you want me to take care of you... because I know you don't need me to."

(She knows.)

We take care of each other in too many ways for me to list here.  But lately... I've been very interested in our "playing house."  I've been studying S and wanting to find ways to put into words what it is about her that makes her butch.  At first glance, I think it might appear that it's simply so because she is with me, who is so clearly femme.  But... that is not accurate at all, she is not just butch against my femme...

In our playing house I often think about the traditional heterosexual roles in marriage and how I am often viewed as playing the part of the "good wife."  Cleaning, making lunch, and always making sure I have a compliment for my husband.  It makes me giggle.  I was really a shitty wife when I was married to a real life husband, but now I feel like June Cleaver at times.  Yes!  June Cleaver with an immaculate kitchen and a mouth watering roast in the oven.

And S, is my Ward Cleaver.... wanting to take care of hir lady.

But unlike the Cleavers, we do not sleep in separate twin beds.  And unlike June Cleaver, sometimes I wear  the dick.

And bingo!  There it is.  Sometimes I wear the dick.  Sometimes this femme straps on a dildo and fucks her butch.  How very peculiar.  And finally we are not playing house anymore.  Finally we are not merely pretending to be heterosexuals.  Finally we are free to be.

That's the thing... that's what make me her femme... I have to put my dick on.  S doesn't.  She has a cock that is more real that that dildo we "play with" on occasion.  It gets big and hard everytime we fuck.  Some may think or even say that this cock is all in our heads, but it's not, it's very very real and not just in S's head but actually between her thighs and sometimes, if I am lucky she even puts it between mine.

But that's another blog... for another time... perhaps...

Fear: Does it motivate you or paralyze you?

What would you do if you weren't afraid?

I find that most of my life has been filled with fear.  'Bullshit,' my friends are thinking.  My friends that read this.  I think that they see me as this totally brave woman.  A fearless woman who just goes out and does instead of sits and says.

If they really knew how afraid I am.  How afraid I've been. 

I think we are all afraid and I really don't feel special in this.

I have looked fear in the face though, and I have used it to motivate me.  But I do admit that there is a lot more that I feel is paralyzing about fear.  There are a lot more fears and anxieties that I have than confidences.  I'm just a really good fucking actress.  Maybe.  Or maybe people really can see right through me.

What would I do if I weren't afraid?  What have I done?

Leave him.  Hurt him.  Admit that there is no other way.  In admitting that I am a lesbian, I could not stay married to him.  For a long time I tried to find ways to leave him without hurting him.  I tried to will him into leaving me, thinking he would hurt less.  I never wanted him to get hurt.  I don't want anyone to hurt.  I was afraid, so I got married.  I was afraid, so I stayed married.  I was afraid, so I got divorced.  Fear was paralyzing and motivating. 

Fall in love.  Not use my body as a tool, as a way to avoid real communications or real relationships.  It's easier to fuck than talk.  It hurts more to be rejected for my thoughts than my body.  Talk.  Listen.  Share.  Even this blog, its' all fear based.  I get afraid.  I get quiet.  I come here and write.  It's bullshit.  To those who've told me it's so brave... bullshit.  It's not.  So... I try to make this as an authentic place as possible.  At least I can do that.  These, my friends, are the truest of my thoughts and feelings that I can share.  This is as close to me as one can really get.  My body is not involved.

Forgive.  Them.  Me.

At one time in my life I was afraid of failing, and that fear did NOT stop me from becoming a nurse.  Again, though, the fear is back.  I don't think it's a fear of failing this time.  I don't know what I am afraid of.  But the fear is there, on the surface and I have two simple choices.  Stay in school.  Quit school.  I really feel like I am meant to be a midwife, or rather, I am a midwife.  But I made choices and now, continuing my education at this point seems questionable. 

I chose myself over the lie of my marriage that was killing me.  I chose loving my kids fully over struggling to fight the resentment that was building daily while parenting them on an empty tank.

What would I do if I weren't afraid?  What have I done?

Play the guitar; Tailor my own clothes; Buy a real camera and learn to use it; Audition for community theater; Interview for a per diem RN job; Return at least one creditor's phone call; Learn how to make sushi; Cut my own hair; Wax my own bikini area;  Apologize; Forgive; Own a pet that I can't just flush down the toilet if it dies; Continue an unplanned pregnancy; Terminate an unplanned pregnancy; Talk without shame about those hard choices; Tell a friend the truth instead of biting my tongue; Write this blog as if no one ever reads it; Let myself cry and not stop; Admit that I am afraid...

There's a lot.  Too much.  So much.  But I have to keep moving forward and I must keep facing my fears.  At the end of the day I want to say, "I did all I could.  I did my best."  Some days, I wonder if that's true, sadly.

Just a Small Rant (part 1)

Bear with me here.  I've had a trying past couple of days. weeks. months.

I need to bitch again.  Surprise, surprise you are thinking.  Fuck yeah. 

I've written before about the "image" of lesbianism when my friend asked if I'd still be wearing my sundresses this year.  (In her defense, I know she was only teasing me.)  I feel like I need to write a little more.

Do you think Portia was asked, when she first came out to the cast and crew on the Ally McBeal  set "Are you sure you are gay?"   Do you think that because she has been blessed with such striking beauty she has had a more difficult time as a young lesbian woman or has this helped her and her career?  Is it more acceptable that she is gay because... well ... look at her.  Men and women alike want to look at her.  Or are men pissed that this beautiful woman doesn't want them between her legs, no matter how good they think they are at "it?" And are women threatened by her?

In short, has her looks helped her or hurt her?  Do we really care?

I guess I've been caring a little more.  Not because I find myself attracted to Mrs. De Rossigenerous, no no no, I can see and appreciate her stunning beauty but she's not really my vision of sexual attraction.  I have been more concerned with the media's portrayal of who and what a lesbian looks like and what that does to society's perception of lesbians OF all kinds.

An example: the HBO hit series The L Word.  I'm rolling my eyes as I plunk away at the keys.  If you've never seen the show, let me invite you out from under your rock and direct you to Netflix where you can download entire series after series and watch them right on your computer.  However, you really only need to see a few episodes and you'll "get it."  Maybe it's me.  Maybe it's because I am not so interested in femme on femme sex.  I don't know.  It seemed like it was the same "type" of lesbian with different names.  Pretty stereotypical types too.  And the only thing closest to a butch was Shane, who ... really.... represented more of a tomboi.  In defense (I suppose), I know plenty of lesbians that really loved this series and felt like "they" finally were represented on mass media. (Also, if anyone's seen the complete L Word series and I am wrong let me know.  I gave up on it after like season 2.)

Yes, I realize I am using a fuckerton of labels here.  In my little ol' humble opinion though... it is what it is and we are what we are.

Let's move on to Portia's wife, Ellen DeGeneres.  Remember when she had her TV show in the 90s and she was going to come out on network television?  Was anyone else thinking to themselves, "Uhhhhh yeah.... she's gay.  And the 'big news' is what?"  TeeHee... Look at this picture I found.  I imagine Ellen thinking the same thoughts.  Okay, now, all the same questions to Portia, let's throw them at Ellen.  Hmm.  I don't think she was repeatedly questioned, "Are you sure you're gay?"  I wonder if any men ever said to her, "But I'm really good at going down on women, you just haven't ever had a real man do it properly."

I don't think so.

I love Ellen.  I love her comfort in her skin and I love her happiness in life. 

Also, I remember when I was in high school and head over heels in love (wow, that's an image) with H.  She and I laughed our asses off watching Ellen and reading her book My Point: And I Do Have One.  I felt drawn to this woman and wanted to know more about her.  I couldn't believe that everywhere I looked, I couldn't find any information anywhere that confirmed she WAS gay.

That was what life was like for me then though, trying to figure out who "was" and who "wasn't" and if you know where I live you understand that.

So when Ellen came out in 1997, the same year I had my first baby, I felt happy that one of us was being completely true to herself.

I couldn't be happier today now that she has found this amazing partner in life, and their happiness is palpable in every photo we see of them.

Hmmmm... my point... I DID HAVE ONE!

I had a very bad night last night.  Had dinner with an old friend, who happens to have a penis so he can't really help a lot of this I suppose.  The evening started okay, I set him "straight" a couple of times when he made some comments like, "What made you choose....."  and other bullshit like that.

Right before I was ready to leave though, he said to me, "What if you could be with a man that is exactly like you?"  I am not really sure what that means.  First of all, if he is exactly like me, then he'll have a pussy?  He will never be exactly like me.  But I guess what he was referring to was my personality... so I went with that.  I told him I had been with men that had a personality like mine.  He just looked at me.  Then said, "Just not what you like then?"  Like he was waiting for an explanation.  I've never felt like I had to explain anything when everyone thought I was straight.  And I'm quite certain that no one has ever asked him to explain why he like petite, brunette women.  I just smiled and said, "Not what I like."

Another comment men like to make is the one I made above when discussing Ellen.  On the topic of oral sex: I've heard that "I'm really good at it" to which I reply, "So am I" and I've heard "But I really like doing it" to which I reply, "So do I."  Apparently I just need to find a man that can go down on me "better" and then I'll be straight "again."

I would like to ask you, dear straight men, what if a man could suck your dick EVEN BETTER than your wife/girlfriend/best lover?  Oh, not interested?  But what if he REALLY liked doing it?  What if he was told all the time he was really good at it?  Still not interested?  What's wrong?  I don't get it?  Is it just "not what you like?"  Don't  you like to have your cock sucked off?

OH I KNOW!  What if he has really soft hands, like a woman, and gets manicures and pedicures once a month?   (The guy I had dinner with actually told me that bullshit and I couldn't hold back my laughter.)

I'll come back with a Part 2.

Anonymity

I was going to discuss this with my girlfriend before beginning this journey; however, after last night’s huge, dramatic explosion of emotions and vomiting of words I do not think we will be discussing anything blog related… and I am quite certain she no longer calls herself my girlfriend.  More on this topic later.

So, to remain semi-anonymous or not . . . that is the question I’m thinking about right now.  Let’s face it, no one is reading this right now, except MAYBE her and if I gave the blog address to some of my closest friends, at least I would have some readers that would give me some feedback.  However, would that just make me censor my words?  Because then I would be writing “for” them?  And what about when I want to write about more, *ahem* personal aspects of my life… like the pony rides!  LOL!!

All I know is that if feels good to be writing something that is not a graduate school paper.  I don’t give a fuck about my spelling and grammar right now and I can use the word fuck if I want to.  Okay, that’s a small lie… I care a little about my grammar, but I think “fragments” are fine in blog writing.

For now, three people have the blog address.  I am fine with that.  I have to admit there are some super strong women in my life that I would love to invite over here.  Maybe someday I will.