When Your Lover Has Secrets – What to Do March 10, 2010

     One night after my girlfriend thought I had gone to bed, I walked down the stairs and into the living room again to get my cell phone to charge. As I entered the room, she jumped sky high and swung something behind her back so I wouldn’t see. At first glance it looked like a cooking pot. I had caught her, but doing what, or with what exactly, I am not sure. Fortunately for me, I don’t think she could hide another woman behind her back in a pot. I know. I’m pathetic, but you have to be thankful for what you can.

     When I inquired about her jumping and what was behind her back, she giggled nervously and said nothing. Trying to not make too much of it, I tried to spy a better look to see what it could be. It was definitely a big cooking pot. That information only served to confuse me more.

     Unfortunately, knowing she was trying to hide a pot from me did nothing but intrigue me further. Was she a witch, intent on brewing up some potion each night after I went to bed? Was she doing something really romantic and sweet that would make me feel guilty for interrogating her. Was she hiding something in the pot. That would actually make sense, because she knows I don’t cook, and therefore do not look in pots. She could hide anything in the kitchen and it would be safe for years, as long as she did not put it in the refrigerator, which was definitely my turf.

     Did she have a habit she did not want me to know about? Was she addicted to something and hiding it in pots, to be retrieved each night after I went to bed. Was she hiding photos of a secret lover. Or maybe she was making me something, or keeping a journal she did not want me to see.

     When she finally came to bed, I could not resist asking her twenty questions. Or maybe it was fifty questions. I ask her if it was edible? She said, “you could eat it if you wanted to.” I ask her what fruit it most resembled. She said a pineapple. I asked her if our dogs would eat it if it was offered to them. She answered yes. I asked her how much it weighed. She said nine ounces. I asked her if it grew on trees. She said no. I asked her if it came from the ground. She answered not exactly, but I was getting warmer. She said it was three words, two words started with an r and one word started with an f. It was a r_____   f____  r_____ .

     I don’t know what to think, but I am intrigued. No, maybe it’s paranoia. Whatever the correct word is for my feelings, there is one thing that is certain. She has my attention. And stop scolding me already, as I have earned the right to be paranoid. My father actually taped my mother’s phone conversations at one point, believing she might be having an affair, which she never did. It’s kind of ironic, since he always cheated on her constantly. So as you can see, it’s not hard to get my imagination going in the wrong direction.

     I don’t like secrets. They worry me. When I was a child I remember secrets usually erupted into something scary, like sleeping pods that exploded to life, when touched by sunlight. When I was a kid, my parents tried to keep the secret we were moving to Germany from me and my brother for as long as possible, worried how we’d react and trying to minimize our anxiety. But when we were forced to get all those immunizations, they had to fess up.

     One thing I know for sure is that secrets undermine your relationship if they aren’t immediately resolved, as something truly wonderful, like a surprise birthday party or a special gift. I know I’ll never really know what I walked in on, or what she had hidden behind her back. Short of wrestling it away from her, which I would never do, there was no way to know what happened the other night. She could make up that three word answer on the spot and show up with it later to appease my curiosity. That’s the problem with a smart girlfriend. She can fool you, and you might never know.

     I guess we all have our secrets.  If we’re truly lucky, the biggest secrets we hide relate to surprise parties and special gifts. Being the cornball that I am, I’ll share a secret with you right now. No matter how paranoid you are, or how much you worry about the secrets you sense she keeps from you, there is nothing you can do about it. Sometimes it is better to live in ignorant bliss.

Leash Your Lesbian, If You Dare February 25, 2010

     To say I don’t like living on a short leash is an understatement. Maybe the word indignant describes the way I feel about someone or something tied around my neck to restrain me. I gave up on Corporate America because of my last irrational boss in 2006, and I will always give up on any woman who tries to control me like she owns me.

     The simple fact of the matter is that I am uncontrollable for the most part. I’m not bragging, as this stubborn aspect to my personality has caused me much heartache. Maybe we all want the safety of the box at times, so we aren’t constantly on guard and trying to figure out how to get out. Can you say, exhausting. Maybe the trick to keeping someone like me in line is to make the box so damned attractive and flexible, that I never really know I’m residing inside it.

     I see lesbians on leashes. They seem happy, knowing exactly how far they can go. They smile knowing that their owner/wife/girlfriend is holding on to them to keep them from running amuck, to keep them safe. Many of these lesbians appear to be at peace. God bless them. I envy them their bliss. If I could, I would go in for some rewiring for my own good. But then, I’m not an appliance and I am philosophically opposed to taking drugs that strong.

     When I first came out of the closet in upstate New York, one of the first things that happened to me could have been prevented, had the “other” lesbo been on a shorter leash. I was out in the “young” lesbo bar located in Albany, New York, in my twenties, giddy over the girl sitting next to me. She flirted shamelessly and ended up with her arm thrown around my neck after a couple of drinks, kissing me. We had met only an hour earlier. Don’t say it. I was young and thought the word whore was a compliment, as clear evidence of my irresistability.

     At the time, I assumed the girl kissing me was single. She was there alone, smooching on me, telling me everything a girl longs to hear. Then the next thing I knew, a woman I had never seen before, comes up to me yelling, and throws a punch at me. Imagine my shock. For one, I didn’t know girls were allowed to hit. And secondly, I didn’t understand why she was trying to hit me. My paradise of a few moments earlier was crumbling. Yikes!

     As the other girls at the bar pulled this wild lesbo off me, the ugly truth became apparent. The woman I was in a liplock with evidently was two- timing her girlfriend with me. I was an innocent at the time, but Ellie, her girlfriend was intent on bringing me up to speed. I can still see the venom in her eyes and hear the curse words in my head. That was the first time I had ever even heard anyone say the “C” word out loud. My mother would have fainted. I almost did myself.

     Maybe in this one case, Lori, the girl I had liked, would have benefitted from being on a shorter leash. But the truth is, if you have to leash your lesbian, then it’s time to rethink the type of partner she is. If she’s prone to wandering off, no leash will hold her in place. Of course, it is only human nature to try to hold on to what you think is yours. But maybe, that’s where the error in the thinking starts.

     It is really quite freeing to realize that you have little control over another person, and that she will stay as long as she WANTS to, and not a minute more. Putting a leash around her neck will probably only serve to make her resist the restraints, that she may actually appreciate without the evidence of the leash to remind her that she’s tied down. But what do I know. The mystery is always in the metaphor.

Common Misconceptions about Lesbians February 5, 2010

     When I first came out, I learned very quickly about the common misconceptions people have about lesbians. To say I was surprised, is an understatement. Maybe you can relate to these unfounded beliefs yourself.

     Imagine my dismay the first time I went to a lesbian bar and ended up being hit on by a heterosexual couple. The farce started out as a gorgeous female sitting on the bar stool next to me flirting shamelessly and buying me drinks. Little did I know at the time that she was being used as bait to lure me into a threesome. Maybe I would have considered this event to be a fluke if it had happened only the one time, but unfortunately, it happened several times in my first year of going out to the ladies bars. Can you say, YUCK! All I could conclude from these experiences was that some straight people believe that lesbians are more “loose” and willing to participate in sex of the “kinky” variety.

     I know what you’re thinking. Those pickup scenarios where couples try and seduce lesbians for a threesome, are more about men’s ongoing love affair with the idea of having two women in bed with them,  than their belief that lesbians are more promiscuous than other women. The jury may be out on that one. But when I considered how many more propositions I got as a single lesbian, than I got as a single straight girl, it certainly makes the argument a likely consideration. Of course, I was always with a big husky guy when I was impersonating a straight girl, so I doubt I seemed very approachable.

     Another misconception that many people have about lesbians is that we are very “take charge” and good at assembling things in boxes and other mechanical endeavors. While I know many lesbians who can brag about their proficiency in this arena, I am not one of them. So for me, and several of my ex girlfriends, this presupposition about lesbians is completely false.

     Another misconception about lesbians that seems to target us and our supposed lack of feminine wiles is often levied by our gay male friends. If I hear one more joke about how bad lesbians dress from gay men, I swear I may have to burn down one of their bars in retaliation. Who made them the judge and jury on lesbian fashion anyway. Just because we don’t conform to their idea of fashion, does not mean we are bad dressers. Different does not mean inferior, it only means different.

     One could argue that many misconceptions about lesbians start off as stereotypes perpetuated by society and wind up having some merit. I would like to go on notice as saying that not all lesbians are masculine and unattractive as many straight men like to suggest, to ease their ego when they are rejected by us. And no, we aren’t with women as a default plan, because we can’t “get a man.” But yes, like all sub-cultures, we certainly have our share of women, who don’t really care about such superficial things as fashion and societal norms related to shaving, hygiene and hairstyles. But people like me, often view that aspect of their personality as part of their charm.

     The last misconception that I’d like to tackle is the misconception that lesbians all hate men. The truth is, all women hate men at times, and for the same reasons. The battle of the sexes wages on, as women just don’t appreciate men at times, because they are so different. Even though, we lesbians like to believe we are more like men ourselves, I don’t buy it after I spend a few hours in the presence of the opposite sex. I simply don’t get men. But I don’t hate them. And most women I know don’t hate them. I often envy guys, their clueless existence, bereft of the hormones and heightened sensitivity that makes being a female so challenging.

     I’ll end this defensive blog with one thought. Lesbians are complicated people. We defy stereotypes and everything status quo. That’s the one statement about lesbians that may actually bear some truth.