One of the nights I picked up Chinese food on my way home after work last month I outed myself to the girl who handles the phones and the register. Looking for my wallet, I put my blackberry on the countertop and she asked if “that” was a dog. I looked down and saw she was talking about the picture on my blackberry’s screen. I turned it around to show her it wasn’t a dog. It was the picture of a hot butch wearing a red flannel shirt in the cabin of a pickup truck. She asked if it was my boyfriend. I said: “I wish! It’s kd lang”. She asked who kd lang is and, flabbergasted me (how dared she not know who kd lang is?!), I explained she’s a well-known Canadian singer. Side note # 1: if you think that having a kd lang wallpaper on the blackberry is pathetic, (a) you may be right but at least I don’t walk around with my exes and flavor of the week’s pictures on the blackberry to show them to perfect strangers like some femme I know who will remain nameless, and (b) wait till you read this post! End of side note.
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 up 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 remembering 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).