Most butches assume I’m taken. I’m such a great catch on paper that no one can believe no butch has made a decent kept femme out of me yet. Those who don’t assume I’m taken are intimidated (that I write porn and this blog isn’t helping). They see me as too strong, too independent, too honest, too busy, too complicated, too out of their league, too much to handle… Either all of that or I’m hideous and none of my friends has the heart to tell me.
Some butches find me sick or annoying and that is ok with me (it’s their loss after all). To make things worse, I’m a 2×4 femme. Unless a butch throws a “date” in the conversation, I don’t think I’m going out on a date.
I’m aware of my limitations: (A) nine out of ten times I chicken out and say no or cancel the date. Truth be told, I’d rather stay home writing or playing with my magic wand than wasting my time getting ready and going through a date, and (B) when I date, I tend to fuck myself in the head by jumping in bed too fast. Nine out of ten times, if I sleep with a butch, she’s going to call the day after and the day after and the day after and I’m going to ignore her calls because I already got my milk and don’t need to buy that cow.
So, in an effort to be more approachable and less of a slut, this year I’m deliberately being more open to dating. If a butch asks me out on a “date,” I say yes without pulling out my long list of reasons not to date (providing she’s relatively sane and there are no red flags). That takes care of A.
Now when it comes to B, how do I slow things down? I basically sabotage myself to make sure there’s no way in hell that X butch/stone butch will get her hands in my panties or see me naked on the first date:
– I don’t shave/wax my legs or bikini line.
– I wear jeans or pants (especially if it’s a weekday, after work date).
– I wear ugly, mismatched undies.
– I make sure my house is a mess so, even if I’m tempted to stop by CVS to buy razors and shaving foam in a hurry, there is still no way I’m taking said butch/stone butch back to my place.
– if I’m between hair colorings, I cover the grays with hair mascara which is good from a distance but doesn’t look good enough for an up close and personal encounter.
– I do not talk about sex before, during or after the date. I let them think it’s their idea and, since they are all gentlemen, that guarantees no hanky panky till the 3rd or 4th date.
– I do not carry condoms, dental dams, and finger cots with me. This is really what does stop me from having sex: all of the above can be fixed with a quick stop by a store that’s open 24/7 but you can’t find dental dams or finger cots in most pharmacies. I never have sex with strangers without protection. Ever. Yes, I know the low risk of a lesbian getting AIDS/HIV but there are hundreds of other STDs/STIs and most women don’t walk around with a banner that reads: “watch out! The owner of this clit has chlamydia.”
I’m rolling my eyes at myself thinking: “are we playing hard to get now? Does this mean we will be playing the Damsel in Distress game (that I oh so much hate today) in 10 years?” I don’t know. I sincerely hope not.