The Traveling Butch and I were in Sephora looking for a gift for her mother when she asked if I wanted to get any makeup. I looked at her and asked: “do you think I need it?” (the tone in my voice said: “do you want to get some tonight?”). Without breaking eye contact she took a step back and told me she was going to the register to pay for her mother’s gift. The Traveling Butch knows I have this delusional feeling of being naturally beautiful and needing no makeup other than the occasional touch of gloss and mascara. Maybe in my 40s and 50s I’ll rethink getting up 30 minutes earlier every morning to plaster my face with makeup before leaving the house. Maybe when I’m older the benefits of makeup will be stronger than my fear of all the chemicals they put in it – chemicals we know nothing about that can poison you or give you cancer. But not right now. Funny enough, I go all the way out some nights – glitter extravaganza if I’m going to a party and/or Spanish bordello if I’m wearing red lipstick in the bedroom.
So I rarely wear makeup. What other unfemmish things do I do?
– I don’t play hard to get. This is so not an accomplishment on my part – I’m just too horny to play hard to get.
– I’m honest to a fault. A butch acquaintance once told me I’m never going to get a date if I tell people I see or sleep with The Traveling Butch or an occasional fotw. I told her that the only difference between me and a “datable” femme is that she is not telling her that she’s sleeping with someone. We are in New York. Does she really think that a femme in her 30s-40s is not getting any? Seriously, what is a femme to do? Sit by the phone waiting for her butch in shining armor to call asking her out on a date?
– I’m not desperate. Back in March I got asked to the Butch Femme April Dance by a butch who didn’t even know me: the same day that a friend playing matchmaker told her about me. I said no, of course. I know at least 4 femmes who would have said yes – no questions asked. After hearing so many horror stories the fact of that someone would ask and/or accept without seeing the other person blows my mind.
– I’m not afraid to call butches on their shit. Like when they send the exact same text message to two of my friends and me or when they chase me to go out for drinks alone when they know I know they have a girlfriend or are married. Some butches call it “not being nice” and I don’t care.
– I’m not afraid to call femmes on their shit. I don’t like femmes who play the Femme in Distress game with butches and I don’t like femmes who try to play it with me. Maybe a butch will go out of her way to help a femme who doesn’t know how to balance a checkbook or change her car’s oil. My style is more on the lines of telling said femme to call her bank or AAA.
– I don’t cook to catch butches. Does cooking, baking, and cleaning for a butch really work? Each time I hear a femme bragging about baking a cake or making chocolate cookies to impress a butch I remember that joke/quote by Joan Rivers: Don’t cook. Don’t clean. No butch will ever make love to a femme because she waxed the linoleum – “My God, the floor’s immaculate. Lie down, you hot bitch.”
– I don’t play dumb or google things trying to impress butches. I hate when my femme friends dumb themselves down so that butches won’t think they are too clever. I find it ridiculous and pedantic that this butch we all know googles things before commenting on everyone’s wall on Facebook. That’s why I don’t to either.
– I don’t play well with other femmes. I rarely go to weekly or monthly femme gatherings because they normally only talk about clothes, makeup, butches, and calamities and I’d rather be home writing instead. I also find the get togethers very fake – the femmes usually hate each other but act as besties. After the event, as soon as they get home, they email another femme (bingo! That means Yours Truly) to rip the other femmes apart. I seriously don’t need the drama.
– I’m picky… because I can. We all can be picky. If you’re thinking that you are too young/old, fat/skinny, broke or disabled to be picky let me remind you that we all have shit on our plates and we deserve to be treated like royalty. Don’t settle for the first asshole who tells you that you have a beautiful smile and keeps repeating some shit she thinks is romantic.
– I’m not fluid. I like butches and stones butches. I’m not FTM-curious. I’m not into lipstick lesbians. I’m not into lesbian-curious women. All of this narrows my dating pool and that’s perfectly fine with me.
– I don’t want companionship. As a matter of fact, I hate that word. When I get a private message on the matchmaker and then I see that the token butch/stone butch uses that word in their profile I feel tempted to PM back saying that if I wanted companionship I would adopt a cat or a dog. I want a burning bed baby! (no pun intended and no, this is not about that movie).
– I embrace the old lady with a cat stereotype. Easy for me to say because I’m still young and don’t have any cats. Of course I’d like to have a husbutch, kids, and a house with a white picket fence but, worse comes to worse, I’d rather live alone with my cat and my magic wand than putting up with some lazy butch.
Yes, I’m all of that and a bag of cookies and that’s probably why I’m going to be single foreva.