– when butches don’t “see” you.
– when you go to LGBT bars and everyone assumes you are the token straight friend/coworker until a butch walks in and makes you visible.
– when you catch a butch talking shit about you, call her on it, and she thinks she can keep talking to you as if nothing had happened.
– when you femme up for a date (that is, go get waxed, get a mani and a pedi, sometimes a haircut, get a new dress, matching undies, sometimes new shoes and matching handbag) and your date starts the conversation with a “I’m not really into labels” or “I am a boi or queer, not so much butch” (well, isn’t it nice of you to completely waste my time? Oh my! I’m such a lucky femme! Barf).
– when you have a date, your hair is a mess (level Lion King or Hagrid), and you also manage to ruin your manicure.
– when a friendenmy lets you go out in public with more makeup than Bozo the Clown.
– when you hang out with a butch you don’t know that well (as in “not a date”), the butch insists on paying and you can’t order what you really want because it wouldn’t be polite (it’s one thing to order the most expensive thing on the menu when you are paying for it and a very different one to make someone else pay for it when you don’t know that person, what s/he can or can’t afford, and her expectations for the rest of the evening).
– when you walk by Sephora giving yourself a guilt trip because you can’t remember the last time you went in to buy makeup or, as a matter of fact, wore any makeup.
– when you trick yourself into believing you are not a “good” femme because you don’t wear makeup too often.
– when you get hit on by straight bio-males or transguys who think you are straight.
– when you get hit on by straight bio-males who know you are a lesbian, but proceed to inform you of that you are a lesbian because you haven’t been with a real man yet. Barf.
– when you get “interviewed” by straight bio-males who know you are a lesbian, know you won’t sleep with them, but think you’re going to tell them what you do, with whom, how, how many times, and where. Barf.
– when transguys who know damned well you can be friends but not lovers try to get in your pants.
– when transguys throw private/public offline/online tantrums because they can’t get in your pants.
– when you get hit on by transguys who know damned well you only sleep with butches and stone butches, but feel the need to tell you that you only sleep with butches/stone butches because you haven’t been with a transguy yet and, thus, haven’t seen the light yet (some of you just don’t know when to give up, do you?).
– when transguys say that stating the obvious (see above) makes you transphobic and some butches and other femmes agree with them (WTF?!).
– when a butch, stone butch or a transguy think they can slut-shame you into sleeping with them (use “slut, whore, etc” as an insult on me and see how fast I run for the hills).
– when you have a job interview or a date and you forget your lucky earrings in the bathroom so you end up buying something cheap in Duane Reade and spend the rest of the day thinking no one is going to hire/kiss you that day.
– when your soft palate and throat hurt from sucking butch cock all weekend.
– when other femmes or butches think sucking butch cock all weekend makes you “less of a femme” or not a “real” lesbian.
– when other femmes or butches think that dating a stone butch makes you “less of a femme” or not a “real” lesbian.
– when a femme gives you the evil eye because she thinks you slept with her ex and you want to tell her that you wouldn’t have touched her with a 20 foot pole even if someone had paid you, but don’t say a word because it would be too awkward.
– when you have been fucked over by a femme and wonder whether to warn her next victim or let her find out the truth on her own.
– when other femmes or butches think that dating a stone butch and/or craving butch cock makes you “less of a femme” or not a real” lesbian and keep bringing it up over and over and over and over… to the point where you want to tell them “if you want, the next time I sleep with a butch or soft butch I can take a picture of me eating pussy and send it to you, would that make you happy?” or remind them that they’re no gold-card lesbians either, but you say nothing because you are too polite for your own good.
– when fotw gets up early to bake you scones, wakes you up, and all you can say is “hey you!” because you can’t remember her name.
– when you are in bed with a butch and you say the wrong name. Oy vey.
– when your ex doesn’t get the memo and won’t stop sending you flowers. Sheesh!
– when your ex gets you tickets to see kd lang on After Midnight. You know you shouldn’t, you know you’ve already gone with someone else, but it’s kd lang… but it’s your ex… but it’s kd lang… but it’s your ex whom your friends now refer to as “the psycho”… but it’s kd lang… but it’s your ex who can’t get over the fact of that you’ve moved on… but it’s kd lang… but it’s your ex who should have left the tickets at the box office under your name for you to go with someone else if she really cared about you… but it’s kd lang… but it’s your ex who’s given you the best sex ever (you know if you see her you’ll end up having sex in the 2nd floor ladies room)… but it’s kd lang… finally someone slaps some sense into you and you don’t go with your ex, but you regret not going to see kd lang a third time.
– when you go see kd lang on Broadway twice and your friends give you shit over not waiting outside of the theater to get her autograph because you didn’t want to see her with any makeup on.
– when you are single and happily partnered femmes think your mission in life is to steal their cheating/alcoholic/good for nothing butches from them (bitch, pleeeeze!).
– when you keep getting invited to lesbian speed dating events and gay ladies nights organized by a clueless mainstream lesbian who got your email from your blog, claimed to have read it, and somehow still doesn’t get that you are not into lipstick lesbians, other femmes, bisexual women, and confused straight chicks. Barf.
– when you start working on you (finishing your degree, going to the gym, eating healthier, etc) and your friends tell you that you don’t belong with them anymore because “you are a skinny chick now” or “you think you are too clever/good for us.”
– when you can’t tell your friends that you are on a diet or going to the gym because in the past they have taken it as a personal attack.
– when couch potatoes (regardless of your relationship with them) make negative & discouraging remarks about your doctor’s recommended/approved diet or exercise plan.
– when your greys are showing and you keep seeing butches who “see” you everywhere.
– when you need a haircut and your stylist is MIA.
– when you get a professional manicure and you ruin a nail washing your hair 20 minutes later.
– when the butch that has caught your eye shakes like a shy bunny and won’t make the first move.
– when you have more balls than the butch you are dating.
– when a butch you may or may not like sends you text messages that you must run by your friends, google or urbandictionary to understand because they make no fucking sense.
– when a butch you may or may not like texts you one liners filled with typos and gets offended when you point out you only respond to English (yes, I’m going to be single forever in case you had any doubts).
– when you see the cutest business casual shirt with matching tie, pick the right size, get in line to pay for them, and then remember you are single and you have no one to buy them for.
– when your butch best friend wants to go for a massage for her birthday and you are like: “but you are not a femme and we are not a couple, that would be too awkward for me” and she’s like: “you’re reading too much into this” and you realize you may be an uptight bitch.
– when butches expect you to be a mind reader and know exactly what they are going through, thinking, or needing at any given moment.
– when you get back on the dating market and realize Craigslist is a cesspool, butches on the butch femme matchmaker have one foot on the grave or live far away, and single butches at local butch/femme events have a laundry list of issues.
– when a butch friend wants to hang out with you behind her live-in straight girlfriend’s back. Barf.
– when a butch friend who is dating a straight-till-I-met-you chick expects you to keep a straight face and your mouth shut when her girlfriend flirts with bio-males right in front of you.
– when two of your best friends don’t talk to each other.
– when you get sick right before a much anticipated butch femme get together, you cancel so that someone else can have your seat/ticket, and you end up feeling great the day of the event. Oy vey.
– when a butch says she is an equal opportunity dater (dating both femmes & feminine lesbians/straight women) and doesn’t understand why you have taken her off your Datable Butches list.
– when everyone is sharing pics of their cats in their beds and you are like: “burn those sheets and pass me the hand sanitizer!”
– when you hear through the grapevine that a nasty old prune you liked ages ago has health issues, you want to reach out to see if she needs help because you know no one else in your circle will, but you are afraid she’s going to lash out as usual (1, 2, 3. Repeat after me: “not my circus, not my monkeys”).