Wednesday, September 27, 2006

Couldn't They Have Called It A Hard Off?

Two experiences I have recently had:

1) I'm at a bar with some friends. (OK, full disclosure, I'm at a bar with some friends for my ex's birthday celebration.) The band rocks, and I'm dancing my ass off. I've had a couple of drinks. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a guy I know. He runs a local venue I perform at sometimes. We've always been friendly, and he's a good looking guy. I'm also 80% sure I've heard him talk about a wife. This will be relevant.

So I run up to him all happy to see him, and I give him a hug. And he tells me he didn't know I was such a "hot dancer." And then he holds onto my hand when I'm attempting to let go. Still, I pretend to think we're just friend-flirting. He says, "I may have to ask you to dance later." I say, "I'll say yes..." and run off to rejoin my friends.

It's later. He's standing on the outskirts of the dance floor, watching me. I pretend I don't have a weird feeling about it and ask him if he's going to dance with me. Which he does by grabbing me around the waist and sort of forcing me to slow dance with him. And his erect penis. I can feel precise arc with which it curves to the right. It is not a slow song. I try to take a step back and pick up the pace, dancing-wise, but he's having none of it. He grabs my waist back and slows down even further. I finally have to make some lame excuse about not wanting to ditch my friends, and I run off. Emphasis on the word run.

2)I'm at a conference. Right away, approaching the registration table, I notice a seriously hot guy. Turns out, the friend I'm there with, whom I'll call M, vaguely knows him. I figure he's way out of my league and do nothing.

The next day, he actually walks up to us and starts flirting with me. He's pretty blatant, but it still takes a while for me to pick up on it, because it has entirely not occurred to me that he would even notice me. But there it is. He wants to know if I'm going to the party that night. Of course I am. He walks off. I giggle and freak out about it with M over dinner. We plan strategy. We go to the party. Is he there? Where is he? Is he in there? Finally, an hour later, I'm in the bathroom and M rushes in. He's there. We flirt like mad for like two hours. There's dancing. Then I start flagging but he wants to stay, so he asks me for my cell and says he'll call in a bit.

An hour and a half later, just as I'm finishing brushing my teeth, he calls. Can he come by? I'm pretty tired but very excited and looking forward to some quality making out. He comes over, reeking of pot. He sits on the bed and says nothing. I join him. He does not kiss me. He just climbs up on me and starts rubbing his body all over me. This goes on for a minute or two. I try to kiss him and he thrusts his tongue into my mouth like a piston a few times. I pull away. He starts in with the rubbing again, and I send him home.

Now, I may have been away for them for a very long time, but I like penises. I really do. I like how responsive and direct they are, how concrete. I've even had one inside me recently (more on that soon, I promise). But this just feels, well, weird. In a profoundly eww kinda way. Is this something I'm going to need to develop a tolerance for? Please someone tell me no...

This Does Not Bode Well For Me.

Women 'climax' more during lesbian sex

Sunday, September 24, 2006

How to Be Irresistible to Men

Lately, the primary way I've been meeting guys is through online dating sites, especially ones that tend to skew progressive. Last weekend I emailed this cuuuuuuuute guy with just the right blend of pop culture references, political/intellectual seriousness, and self-effacing humor in his profile. The holy grail, right? And lo and behold, he wrote back. And back and back and back.

So we've got this great little flirtation humming, where he tells me about his tattoo but refuses to say where it is, and I describe in detail one of my favorite secret local places to go, etc. We exchange revealing information about our romantic histories without crossing the line into TMI. He confesses to watching Gilmore Girls and tells me I have incredible eyes. Even Google knows what's going on -- every time I compose or read one of our emails, it gives me a sponsored link for a site called "How to Be Irresistible to Men."

And then. He mentions something about having a diary on Daily Kos. And I mention something about what a boys' club it is. All the flirting stops. After a few exchanges, he concedes that he can see that Kos does slant toward linking to boys, and he can see how that would be a problem if you're a "committed feminist." And I write back with a treatise on why it's actually a problem for everyone, even his white male self, and how it's replicating the sexist structures of the corporate media. And then I say (to be fair, he asked), that I was starting to hesitate about him because he seems to lack an analysis of how structural misogyny functions. Because I am stupid and do not actually want to get laid.

And then, silence. Two days of it.

UPDATE: Got an email today saying he wasn't blowing me off but hadn't had the time yet to write a thoughtful response. But I want to get involved with a guy so deeply in need of schooling, even if he's open to it, which remains to be seen? Or am I being completely ridiculous here?

Friday, September 22, 2006

Let's jump right in, shall we?

I kissed a girl for the first time in October 1992. Since then, I've dated, slept with and fallen for only women and queer-identified transguys. Until now.

I ended a four year relationship in May and found myself interested in straight men for the first time in a very long time. I also found myself without a clue about how to relate to straight men without, on the one hand, getting stalked, or, on the other hand, coming off as, well, a radical lesbian. And then of course, there is the matter of the penis. Quite literally.

This is my story.