When I like a butch I revert to my teens. I may be rude (dancing with everyone but her at the Butch/Femme Society’s Butch Femme April Dance, leaving a restaurant saying goodbye to everyone except her, not wanting to sit next to her when a group of us goes to the movies), I may turn stupid (accidentally sending her an email or a text message about her that was intended to go out to one of my friends), and I may act like a psycho (epic email to She Who Shall Remain Nameless anyone?). In other words, I let the 15 year old living inside of me out and I manage to make a complete fool out of myself in front of her, which, of course, moves me directly to the bottom of her Dateable Femmes list.

Leaving all of the above aside, I do not like to tell a butch that I like her partly because in the past when I’ve been the hunter I’ve ended dating morons, and partly because, as I’ve grown more comfortable into my own femme skin, I can happily say that I want the butch to be the butch in the relationship. From my own experience, if a femme is the one asking out/chasing, butches get lazy and I don’t want no scrub.

If you are a 2×4 butch wondering if that hottie is into you, this is how a femme who doesn’t regress to her teens may let you know she likes you:

- she looks at you and looks away when you catch her looking at you

- she blushes when you look at her

- she giggles or smiles each time you look at her

- she lowers her chin and plays with her hair while talking to you

- she laughs at your jokes when even you are aware that they aren’t that funny

- she compliments your looks and the clothes you wear

- she uses the clothes you wear as an excuse to touch you

- she’s usually the soul of the party but gets shy around you

- she’s usually shy but she can’t keep her mouth shut around you

- she gets your number with some excuse and texts/BBMs you “just because”

- she lets you pay for dinner

- she insists on paying for her own dinner

- she gets really close to you when you are dancing

- she doesn’t smoke but goes outside with you while you’re smoking

- she volunteers to clean, cook, work the door or help you in any way she can with your next gig if you are some sort of artist/performer

- she invites you to her next gig (concert, poetry reading, yoga class) and makes sure you have a drink, great seats, etc

- she buys you a drink or ask you to buy her a drink

- she cooks or bakes for you if you are moving to a new apartment or going through something like a death in the family (including your partner)

- all of a sudden she is into things that you are into (museums, NY Liberty, hiking) and wants to make plans with you

- she happens to have 2 tickets for your favorite band’s sold-out concert

- she finds an excuse to spend time together (dance lessons, play dates for your dogs, volunteering at a non-profit) so that you can get to know her better

- she tells you point blank that she likes you and asks what you are going to do about it

DESCRIPTION:

Despite its evident significance in the butch femme community, BDSM relationships have rarely been written about from a femme perspective. Maria Lapachet does a good job of bringing out the sensuality and directness of what a submissive femme wants with a collection of poems that turn up the heat.

Lapachet’s almost prosaic poetry is synonymous to long-treasured blue notebook that fumes with bloodied angst, creasy recollections, and steamy snippets of erotic bravado.

In “My Imaginary Girlfriend” Lapachet tackles subjects that we usually dare not tread — from guiltless promiscuity to emotionless same sex trysts to the politico-cultural nuances of lesbian sexuality. We are invited to Lapachet’s unkempt bedroom of naked, wet intimacy yet we are not necessarily allowed to peer beneath the gossamer pillow.

EXCERPT:

1
I wake up to the sound of her
getting ready to go to workin the walk-in closet.
I step in and grab her waist,
pull her closer to me, and kiss her,
long and deep, good morning.
She knows it’s turning me on
to feel her belt rubbing against
my waist. She takes her hand
and slides up my shirt to feel my breasts.
Her mouth begins to explore my body.
First, a taste of my ample breasts
as they heave up and down,
in rhythm to her mouth.
My nipples are sensitive
and I love when she tongues them.
She moves down my body,
kissing my stomach. It tickles.
Then she goes down to my pulsating pussy,
aching to be licked and eaten.
She plugs her tongue deep inside of me.
My back arches. I grab the door,
lean back, and moan loud in pleasure.
When I’m done, she picks a pink tie,
kisses me, and heads out saying
she’ll be home early tonight.
I go back to bed.

2
She wakes up thinking she is her own boss.
She decides not to go to work today.
She kisses me, wakes me up, and says
I’m sexy beyond belief. She loves the way
I ooze sexuality with every breath.
She loves that my mouth will swallow
whatever she gives it. We take a shower.
She’s looking in her side of the closet,
thinking aloud. She doesn’t need all
her fifty three neckties… would I be happy
bounded and gagged with all of them?
She will of course leave all my holes
nice and… vulnerable.

3
She walks in and sees me dressed as instructed.
Short skirt, thigh highs, and sheer button blouse.
I have my hands on the counter, back to her,
and my back is arched. I’m showing off my ass.
She stands close behind me, pacing around, taking it all in.
I turn to look. She orders me to keep my eyes ahead
and arch that back. Her instructions come with a sharp,
firm smack on my ass. I let out a short gasp, then focus,
arching and stretching my body for her.
She keeps her hand on my ass, caressing it,
pulls back and gives it slow steady smacks,
resting her hand on it and shaking it.
I anticipate her rhythm, start breathing heavily,
and rear back for the next slap. I try not to moan.
As she lifts my skirt, I look over my shoulder. For the first time,
we look each other in the eye, both inspired by what we see.
She tells me that I do not have permission to look at her
and gives my bare ass a hard smack. I smile and look forward.
She says maybe I need help in not looking.
She reaches into her treasure drawer. I grow nervous and fidgety.
She puts a hand on my shoulder, tells me to relax, blindfolds me.
Now hold that ass out and enjoy it slut. She takes time working my ass over.
Nice long spanking, first with hand, then with belt.
When I’m nice and bright red, she spreads my cheeks
and guides her hand down, rubbing my now soaking wet pussy.
She works it over, fingers it, sucks it,
plays with my asshole at the same time.
I’m begging for it. She forces me to my knees
and fucks my throat. She calls me nasty names.
Then takes out the rope.

My Imaginary Girlfriend is now available on eBook format: http://www.amazon.com/My-Imaginary-Girlfriend-ebook/dp/B006O5M8YG/ref=ntt_at_ep_dpt_1.

First and foremost, if you are planning to do some Valentine’s Day shopping for your babycakes and s/he has given you a list, stick to it.

Second, if you are feeling generous yet clueless, here are a few ideas:

- A new pair of knee high black leather boots – I think they now make faux leather versions for vegan or eco-friendly femmes.

- Any kind of fancy, furry, and warm hat or pair of gloves, scarf or handbag – think Chinatown and Bryant Park’s winter market.

- A cute frame to put a picture of you two or her favorite niece.

- A tea pot and accessories.

- Anything by Anne Taintor. I mean ANYTHING. Her shopping or tote bags, magnets, postcards, mini notes, pill boxes, and flasks are TO DIE FOR. Her cosmetic bags double as a purse! (Can you tell I really want one?)

- Books – buying anything on her Amazon wish list is the safest bet. I recommend “stealing” the books from her wish list and buying local to support women/LGBT owned bookstores like Bluestockings (NYC) or Giovanni’s Room (Philadelphia).

- Theater tickets – Broadway, off-Broadway, off off-Broadway, even your local school’s play.

- Sports tickets – hockey, basketball or whatever makes your sweet pie happy.

- Anything Hello Kitty – from flavored lip gloss to t-shirts or handbags (Yours Truly prefers tote bags), hit the official Sanrio Hello Kitty store (233 West 42nd Street, New York, NY 10036. Tel: 212 840 6011) or JC Penney, Rainbow, Kmart, and other stores where t-shirts start at $8.

- Lingerie – Victoria’s Secret, La Senza, La Perla, Lane Bryant… femmes of all sizes will be happy to model one or many sexy little numbers for you.

- Sexy and funny underwear – if your butch likes to grab life by its horns and live each day like their last, s/he will love Piss & Vinegar designs.

- Artsy, one of a kind cufflinks from Etsy, flea markets, or antique stores.

- Fedoras, ties, bowties, and even socks (you can never go wrong with argyle socks!).

- LSM membership card ($30 the last time I checked).

- An iPad or Galaxy Tab.

- An iPod, a JVC RV-NB50 Kaboom thingy, and Audio-Technica ATH-ANC27 headphones.

- A Mont Blanc fountain pen – so many faboosh options to choose from. My favorite pens are the Greta Garbo or the Virginia Woolf for femmes, and the Marlene Dietrich or the Mark Twain for butches.

- A Kindle Fire preloaded with Yours Truly’s new titles: My Imaginary Girlfriend and Happy Now (how’s that for shameless self-promotion?).

- A Levenger leather jacket bomber portfolio.

- Power tools – I’m lost in this department. I’m assuming your butch will have given you hints or a list. Get it and go to Home Depot, Loews or Sears before they run out of whatever.

Third, if you are broke, you can never go wrong with dinner at home and a heartfelt letter saying why you love her. Also, you can always recycle some of my free Christmas gifts ideas.

2. Attitude really is everything.

3. I cannot live without music. Thank God for YouTube and friends who buy new iPods every so often and give me their old ones.

4. (not exactly news but) I’m cheap and I own it!

5. Adele’s Someone Like You has replaced Lennon’s So This Is Christmas as my most hated song ever.

6. I love Park Avenue butches who wear ties and cuff links.

7. To never trust a butch who is in an on and off and on again relationship when she says she’s done with her girlfriend.

8. I’m better off without the drama of butches who automatically assume I’m too much to handle because I have a high sex drive.

9. You can’t have a conversation or discuss anything with a crazy butch. You could make the most logical argument in the world and it wouldn’t matter. It’s just not worth it.

10. To stay away from manipulative butches fishing for compliments or wanting to find out if I’m into them through out of the blue self-deprecating text messages.

11. The worst thing you can say about a femme is that she is boring.

12. That I’m not a pillow princess. For the longest time I have thought that dating/sleeping with stone butches automatically made me a pillow princess and then someone told me I’m anything but one.

13. To listen to my friends when they say this or that stone butch is not the one for me.

14. My rights as a tenant and how to file a complaint in NYS.

15. Plans for the day can change fast.

16. When someone from New England tells you it’s cold, that means that it is fucking cold out!

17. My biological clock is ticking. I’m not doing anything to become pregnant but I had an insane inner feeling of disappointment 12 times last year. My pregnancy and baby talk was out of control. I’m surprised I didn’t start buying baby clothes or stole any babies like those crazy straight women on Lifetime movies.

18. I may be in the wrong continent. Australia is packed with hot butches who have their shit together and there seems to be a shortage of femmes my age.

19. I have more self-restraint than I thought I had, but I still have a lot of work to do when it comes to non-reaction.

20. I look like Melina – a kick ass yet somewhat psychotic professional wrestler. I’m taking it as a compliment.

21. I’m over Twilight and all that it represents.

22. Downsizing my book collection is easier said than done. I still need to find a new home for 700+ books.

23. I value “face time” with friends (old and new) more than ever.

24. I miss my friends from Spain – gring@s don’t know how to party.

25. You can now call me Jolene (inside joke of The Traveling Butch).

26. I’m lazy. Plain and simple. I’ve ran out of excuses not to go to the gym.

27. 9 out of 10 times, when someone says she can’t stand you she either wants to be you or fuck you.

28. I’m ready to start dating again without lowering my standards.

29. I’m not an uptight bitch. I’m an overachiever and, on top of that, European.

30. How much I enjoy stepping out of my comfort zone: writing, at work, in my personal life, hosting the NYC Butch Femme Socials… I had forgotten how fun and rewarding the unexpected can be.

31. Mean, dried up old prunes don’t deserve playlists or pre-date manicures, pedicures, and new outfits.

32. To listen to Papa Jo when hy says “go and get yourself a hot young butch and show them how it’s done!”

33. To cook a mean Italian sausage.

What did YOU learn last year?

1. kd lang – see previous post.

2. Mayte Martín – Spanish flamenco singer and composer. She sings boleros too. Her voice and smile make my jayjay tingle. I’m trying to get her to sing or teach a class in New York.

3. Lucas Platero – beautiful mind, great sense of humor, hot body. Come to mama!

4. Rossan – aka “@butchndakitchen”. I love her recipes. I love her sense of humor. I love that we are friends. I love her mohawk. That she has luscious fingers doesn’t hurt.

5. Judith Butler – aka “My future husbutch” (she just doesn’t know it yet).

6. Yetta Kurland – forget about her many achievements as an attorney and educator. If I close my eyes I still can see her rocking those brown slacks and burgundy shirt that got me interested way too long ago (LGBT Rally at Bryant Park, circa 2006 I think).

7. Mary B. and Kathy B. Butch twins. Do I need to say more?

8. Skyler Cooper – first saw her on The Insomniacs and have been cyber stalking her since (figurative speech, I’m not that obsessed with her, I just would hit that).

9. Eyleen Miles. Totally my type: geriatric, talented, and unavailable.

10. Kay Ryan – deliciously geriatric, 16^th Poet Laureate of the US.

I’ve been an awful good girl this year. Perhaps Santa would consider leaving a butch in uniform under my tree? NYPD, NYFD, Home Depot, Lowe’s, Kmart, Target, Verizon, UPS, USPS, FedEx, LIRR, MTA… My uniform fetish doesn’t discriminate!

Girl, do I wish kd lang was my boyfriend! A friend just sent me a link to an interview where kd lang says she has changed her name to K Daddy and I can see myself calling her “daddy” or anything she wants me to. Side note # 2: to this date – don’t know if this makes me less of a femme or something – I can’t keep a straight face calling a butch “daddy”. End of side note. On second thought, I don’t think I can call her “daddy”. From the interview I’ve gone to the “I confess” video and now I’m all hot and bothered thinking about my first kd lang concert. It was on or around March of 2008 and in Connecticut. A friend had an extra ticket (don’t remember if some femme stood her up and I was her plan B or if she simply knew I’m too cheap to buy $250 NYC kd lang tickets) and we went together. I took half day off to femme up: manicure, pedicure, waxing; and get my clothes ready. I ended settling for a burgundy dress with white and black flowers, matching corduroy burgundy jacket, shiny black peephole pumps, and a matching handbag.

The day of the concert we did an early dinner with some friends and I kept watching the time and rushing them because I didn’t want to be late. When we got to the theater and saw that the CT lesbian uniform was jeans and a sweatshirt I felt completely overdressed. My friend and I grabbed a drink, talked to a butch acquaintance that was there with a friend, and went in. I don’t remember who the opening act was but he played the piano for too freaking long. Then kd lang came out, barefoot, lighting the stage with her smile. I went from 30 to 13 within nanoseconds. I’m not especially into feet but that night I really wanted to lick her toes. I spent half of the concert telling my friend: “I can’t believe we are here!”, “she’s looking at me! She’s looking at me!”, “Oh. Ma. Gosh. Look at that ass!,” and tapping her forearm because I simply could not believe I was in the same room than kd lang – a woman who somehow had helped me realize I was a lesbian back in the mid 90s when I saw her “all you can eat” in a record store and bought it on impulse without having ever heard any of her songs.

At some point I got up and walked towards the stage to mix with other shameless fans that were dancing and raising their hands to be touched. She held my hand with her two hands and time froze. To the world it may have been a couple of seconds but in kd and maría time it was 2 or 3 years. Sigh. My jayjay tingles just to remember it. My friend had moved to one of the empty seats on the rows closer to the stage and I sat down as I could because my knees got weak, I couldn’t stop smiling, had to take off my jacket because I was having hot flashes… In other words, I was a mess. I saw someone taking pictures from the first row so I took out my camera and started taking pictures till one of the ushers told me to put away the camera.

When the concert was over I noticed kd lang had left a bottle of water on the stage so I ran to the front row, jumped over people who were trying to leave the theater, jumped over a poor woman who was in a cast, stretched myself all I could without showing my rear end (I had gone commando to give her easy access), and almost lost a tit trying to grab the bottle. I got the bottle, put it under my jacket, and left the theater looking to my right and left in amazement and disbelief because no one stopped me and no one called the cops on me for stealing a bottle of water. On the ride to my friend’s house I took a couple of sips and asked her to smell the water like 8,000 times because it had a funny smell and I didn’t know if it was gum or maybe licorice. At my friend’s we drank margaritas, went over the concert in our heads, watched the Live By Request DVD, and discussed philosophical questions like: “what must if feel like to know that there wasn’t a dry pussy in the room tonight and it’s all because of you?”. The bottle of water made it to New York and is still half full in my undies drawer. I won’t be too graphic. I’ll just say that if the water was something else I would have had triplets by now.

In case kd or her reps are reading this… I’m a little crazy, but completely inoffensive. Please set up a meet and greet. I don’t need free tickets, posters, CDs or DVDs. I just want five minutes in the toy closet with you (her).

- Making eye contact OR not making eye contact

- Smiling a lot when she is around her

- Introducing herself to the femme if they don’t know each other yet

- Staying nearby and sneak peeking at the femme OR staying in the background and observing her from a distance

- Complimenting her without making it too obvious

- Touching her in a non sexual way – something small and almost unnoticeable like touching her arm, holding her hand, touching her hair when you help her take off or put her coat back on.

- Listening to what she says and making sure the femme knows she’s paying attention

- Telling a few jokes to find out if the femme enjoys her company and sense of humor

- Finding out her favorite mode of communication (chat, text, call, Skype) because she plans to communicate via that mode

- “Just because” text messages and phone calls

- Burning her a CD or downloading a playlist to her iPod

- Interacting with her friends to find out where the femme will be – this specific butch said she wants to know everything about a femme and everywhere she is going which, mmm, is kind of borderline stalking in my book.

- Asking one of the femme’s friends if she thinks the femme is into her – I do not recommend doing this for two reasons: (a) the femme’s friend may like the butch for herself or may not even be a real friend (b) the femme may not want to be with a butch who acts as if she were in high school (i.e. grow some balls!).

- Finding out common hobbies or pastimes so that she can plan ahead and ask the femme out on a date

- Making plans to go somewhere – something casual like a coffee date – to get to know her a little better before asking her out on a date (and that’s where this other butch lost me!)

- Making plans to go out with a group of butches and femmes so that she can observe the femme without the pressure of being on an official date

- Being extra careful to make sure she never embarrasses the femme in front of her friends, relatives or colleagues.

- Buying her drinks or dinner, flowers, or something she mentioned to show her she was paying attention

- Flirting openly

Which brings me (us?) back to square one: not knowing if a butch is into me unless she says so. I can’t know for sure if a butch likes-likes me unless she opens her mouth because most of my friends do all of the above and – to my knowledge – none of them wants to get in my pants.

Although (real or perceived) rejection can and does hurt, I consider myself lucky because, instead of being stuck in a place of what ifs, I’m able to move on rather quickly once I start seeing traits or red flags that let me know a certain butch and I wouldn’t have worked in the bedroom and/or as a couple.

A few examples of what being lucky means to me…

1. I like this butch, don’t say anything because we are either classmates or work together and I don’t want to complicate things, and I slowly discover she’s a pig. Literally, a pig. She spits, she stretches at the table, she doesn’t do her laundry, she doesn’t bother to brush her hair because she’s wearing a fedora… Why would I want to be around a butch like that as friends? Well, I give my friends a lot of latitude because I don’t see them every day and I don’t have to be with them 24/7. Imagine living with THAT 24/7. No, thanks.

2. I like a stone butch acquaintance and I don’t say anything because I don’t want things to get awkward between us. As our friendship develops I see how s/he treats her femmes (badmouths them, doesn’t call them when s/he’s running late, openly checks other femmes out in front of them, cheats on them..) or behaviors that, again, are okay in a friend but I wouldn’t accept in a partner (smoking, playing with the Wii for 6 hours straight, spending all weekend watching football…).

3. A couple of times I lusted after a butch and before I could say “supercalifragilisticexpialidocious” she was with someone else. As time went by I saw things that peeved me like her smoking like a chimney, drinking more than a fish, wearing makeup, being a pothead, being more of a granola lesbian than a butch, not being serious about her treatment for whatever illness/disorder (depression, diabetes, ADHD… you name it. I don’t discriminate against butches who have any of the things I just mentioned but I won’t waste time with those who have a problem and don’t take their meds) or being full of shit.

4. For the longest time I’ve had a crush on a stone butch friend of mine and I would have sworn she said it was mutual at some point. When she was single, I was seeing somebody else – it wasn’t serious, she didn’t have the balls to ask me out on a date. When I was single, she was happily partnered – my evil twin didn’t win that one and I decided not to say anything. Fast forward to a few years later, we are finally both single, and she tells me she won’t ask me out on a date because I’m going to cheat on her because I like sex. What the hell is that? Can we be friends now? I’m not sure I want to be friends with someone who is basically telling me she thinks I’m an out of control whore (I’m obviously still working on the moving on part on this one but I’m getting there).

5. Some butch caught my eye in the spring/summer of 2005. That was my coming out year and I didn’t miss a lesbian party, after party, and after after party. Said butch and I kept running into each other and (I thought) making eye contact at different venues. She never came across the room to introduce herself and buy me a drink; of course, I wasn’t going to introduce myself since even back then I was on my high horse. I remember holding her gaze, mentally telling her: “stop staring at me and buy me a drink already, goddamnit!” She is now one of my twitter followers who responded to my question: “how do you let a femme know you’re into her?” and that’s how I found out that she’s the type of butch that lets the femme take the lead – which, for me, is ok for a one night thing but doesn’t work so well if I want a date. Did I want a date with her? I’m not sure. I just think it’s funny that the universe provides answers when I’m not even looking for them.

The True Colors Residence, a project of West End Intergenerational Residence and partners with Cyndi Lauper, is a supportive housing facility for lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender youth in New York.

True Colors will be housing 30 young LGBT individuals who were formerly homeless, but have been given an opportunity for permanent housing.

Mildred Ramirez, the life skills manager, is requesting books–fiction, non-fiction, and LGBT themed–for the residence library.

Please send the books to:

True Colors Residence
Attn: Mildred Ramirez, B.S.W.
269 W. 154th St,
New York, NY 10039