Is Logo still a thing? Because I think you all are missing out on great femme reality TV moments like when:
– I went commando to the supermarket and only when I was back in my apartment did I realize my zipper was down the entire time (you are welcome, Harlem!).
– I woke up screaming “no, no, no!” at 4:00 am thinking I had a giant spider crawling down my face (The Traveling Butch loved that one!).
– I broke up with The Travelling Butch. My grand exit was cleaning out my side of the closet and chest drawers, leaving her collar, credit card and keys on the kitchen table… and I lost my job a few days later.
– I googled how to do the mashed potato dance.
– I asked my Jewish friends about Tashlikh: “do I need to bring a piece of paper with what I want to get rid of and throw it to the river? Do I put bread in my pockets? If so, when can I throw the bread out? or the bread goes in the river?”
– that cute little bunny of a stone butch gave me a coconut I was supposed to bury or throw into the river (it’s been years, I don’t remember all the details but the coconut is one for the books!)
– a crack-head sat and lit up his pipe in front of me in the subway.
– I walked from Henrietta’s to Cubby Hole carrying an open container, told two police officers I was from out of town, and had my pic taken with them during Pride a lifetime ago.
– I worked for a fucked up philanthropist who loved to make people beg for his help whether it was a place to stay, help with a college application or money. Every so often a recovering heroin addict would show up at our office to ask him for money and was made to wait for hours. Who had to work within feet of that cigarette reeking, sweaty mess who soothed himself rocking back and forth a la Rain Man? Me. I can’t even tell you how many migraines I suffered while working there.
– I was told I was too gay for the office by a different boss.
– I got a text message reading “your sexy muscular man’s eta is 7:45” from a coworker. My response: “sorry to break it down to you but you’re not my type”. Badum-ching!
– my friend texted: “(the guy she was seeing) is a nice guy. He is not psycho.” My response: “I’m sure Lacy Peterson said the same thing about her husband and where is she now?”
– I pulled a muscle taking off my bra.
– I stuck a thumb in my eye pulling up my panties.
– I woke up in the middle of the night half asleep, didn’t open my eyes, and told Daddy she was going to be late for work and should go home. Turns out it was 3:24 am and we were at her apartment.
– any given FTM or MTF transplains what I’m into sexually speaking or women’s rights/feminist history. (I don’t know how I have lived all these years without you and your input. Please enlighten me. Barf.)
– I introduced a crazy butch to one of my friends as “crazy (said butch’s name)”. Hey, at least I said it to her face!
– my selective vertigo kicks in and I can’t move or have heart palpitations. Fun times at Montauk’s lighthouse, the Whitney’s terraces, the Intrepid… and anywhere with see-through stairs or floors.
– butches tell me I’m hard to read and/or too 2×4 to get their advances. (Hint, hint: start using the word “date” when asking me out).
– I asked my friends to nominate me for Intervention because I could use three months of all-inclusive serenity by the sea.
– my furry niece thinks when I call her “Bailey Pooh” I’m inviting her to jump on the sofa with me.
– the token butch I hardly know emails asking me to remove a blog post they think is about them. If the shoe fits…
– I sent a fuck off! email of epic proportions to my crush.
– I had dinner with a butch who wouldn’t stop moving and scratching herself all over because she was itchy “from my allergy pills”. Uhu yeah sure.
– a femme I hadn’t seen in ages liked and commented on my social media posts forgetting she had told mutual friends and acquaintances I was one of her many stalkers years ago. That’s how you catch a liar. Snipped and shared. BOOM baby!
– I like-like a butch and wait for them to make the first move “like in the movies.”
– each time I make a fool of myself in front of the butch I really like (how else would they know I like them if I’m hard to read?)
– my triple eye rolling when my friends tell me I’ll scare butches off with my books or this blog. Hmmm why would I want to date the kind of butch who has problems with my sass or being sexually active anyways?
– during a shopping spree at the Outlets a friend told me I must have been raped as a child and not remember it because I wouldn’t be into BDSM otherwise.
– a married femme went overboard explaining what a good wife she is making mashed potatoes or pies from scratch including the crust, and I heard myself asking her: “do you wash your clothes in the river too?”
– the token married or otherwise taken butch tries to get in my pants.
– I get disappointed because I wake up thinking kd lang is next to me in bed and it turns out it’s someone else.
– I woke up thinking I had a serial killer snoring next to me.
– my mother discovered how to stalk people on Facebook and spent an afternoon tracking down and sending me current pics of my high-school boyfriends (not ashamed of my straight past).
– I jumped out of bed excited wishing myself a happy Side Chick/50% Off Chocolate Day only to discover it was September instead of February and therefore I couldn’t hit Duane Reade’s day after Valentine’s Day’s chocolate sale.
– I went on a date with my hair up in a bun thinking I looked like a hot co-ed and when I got back and caught my reflection I realized I looked more like Spaceballs’ Barfolomew.
– I was making out with a stud and she kept pulling my hair because she couldn’t believe it wasn’t a wig.
– I got carded at Cubby Hole of all places on my birthday and asked the bouncer: “aren’t you going to wish me a happy birthday motherfucker?”
– the owners of a lesbian bar asked me to keep the now defunct Butch Femme Socials on the low. I could still host them at their bar, but not advertise online because they didn’t want to alienate other customers. Guess who hasn’t been back since?
– I woke up half asleep and the last thing I remembered from my dream was the voice of Morgan Freeman whispering in my ear: “who landed?”
– I woke up to (the voice of) Bruce Willis whispering in my ear: “nine” (scared the shit out of me!)
– a femme who knew I only sleep with butch and stone butch women tried to get me drunk to get in my pants and went straight for my jugular when her plan didn’t work.
– someone who complained about my glitter bombs said they felt neglected and left out when Christmas, Hanukkah, Valentine’s Day and their birthday came around and they didn’t receive one of my cards.
– I flashed everyone when the wind pulled my dress up to my tits on the boat to the Golden Gate.
– half San Francisco and half Sausalito got a peak of my cuca when I went to Alcatraz. No, Princess doesn’t do shorts or jeans when touristing!
– I got half naked in a park in Monterrey, CA thinking a bug had bitten me by my right tit. It turned out it was just my dress’ side tag.
– on a date with a self proclaimed stone butch she told me she would bottom for the right femme.
– a butch watching a football game on TV told me we should get married. I looked right, looked left, asked her if she was talking to me or the TV and she waited till the commercials to tell me “we should get married because that way I don’t have to worry about driving back and forth every weekend”. Triple eye roll.
– a butch asked me if I would do laundry or cook for her because being a single butch without someone cleaning after her was oh so hard.
– I asked a straight man if he identified as butch (hey, it’s not my fault if his tits were bigger than mine!).
– a butch I had known for months started calling me ‘princess’ and I was like: “wait, did I tell you I’m going through a princess phase or are you a mind reader now?”. She said she knew I’m a princess just from spending time with me. I still take it as a compliment. I own it and I make it work!
– I felt my date wasn’t really paying any attention so I let her talk chiming here and there with lines from movies or Beyoncé and Taylor Swift’s songs. She didn’t notice. She wanted to go out on more dates but I never saw her again.
– my gay roommate told me his straight brother was moving in (that’s not what I signed up for!), my rent wouldn’t go down, AND his brother had a criminal record – “wrong crowd/place/time type of thing, just a car theft” (so NOT what I signed up for!).
– I googled the brother and saw he did five years for home invasion. Oh Hell no!
– I became allergic to guacamole and tequila.
– I side eye-rolled at someone eating candy on a Broadway show. A Broadway show! Whatever happened to the separation of the classes? (that’s a Madagascar reference in case you don’t get it)
– I went to Ptown for Women’s Week and no one was on tinder. Fuck my life.
– I waited in the rain for almost two hours trying to score tickets for Lily Tomlin (sold out for months). Never again!
– I told my friend Dramamine was for pussies when we went whale watching and I spent the next two ours sitting in the back of the boat, throwing up non-stop and, of course, missing all the whales.
– on a different whale watching outing I showered myself in hot chocolate.
– I told a friend the biggest service I do for the butch/femme community is not messing with taken butches and “just for that, I should get a lifelong supply of glitter.”
– I almost dislocated a shoulder taking pics of my long hair as it fell down my bare back and ass. No comment.
– they told me I had to pay $2 per towel every day at the gym.
– I break out singing the most random songs from Funky Town to Oops I did it again.
– I watch one too many horror movies and text my friends before and after showering just in case they have to call the cops or Ghostbusters for me.
– I blast Britney, Katy Perry or Jennifer Lopez while cleaning the apartment. Yes, my neighbors love me.
– I watch Snapped, Forensic Files or a Law and Order episode that reminds me of the ex of a friend and I send her random texts reminding her not to eat/drink anything prepared by her ex or telling her things could have been worse “as in she could have killed you for the insurance money.”
– I was asked to put out to be published, represented by an agent, and accepted as a client by a PR pro. All lesbians who don’t like labels. One of them married and wanted me to sleep with her and her wife. Triple barf.
– I caught feelings for a fuckboi.
– I showered myself in Hanukkah, Valentine’s Day and Mother’s Day’s glitter and confetti looking for my St. Patrick’s Day’s confetti.
– I flipped out at a cashier in Popeyes because she kept adding an extra chicken leg to my order. I now travel 25+ blocks to get Popeyes because I’m too ashamed to show my face at the place two blocks from my apartment.
– the guy standing behind me in line at the supermarket puffed or breathed hard enough to move my hair and glasses, and put his putrid smoker’s breath within my inhaling range. I had to rush home to take a shower, brush my teeth, and wash my hair and it took my all not to use bleach. Just thinking about it I want to vomit and need to take another shower.