May 1, 2013

Visualize this:

Preteen Eveleena. Verging on puberty. Awkward as hell. Glitter-loving tomboy girlchild from a broken home. Messy and running with a rough crowd. [confession time: In 4th grade, this girl named Erica peer-pressured me into stealing. I stole a Hello Kitty 4x4inch little pillow from this other girl’s house. I went home and cried my eyes out and then called the girl’s mom and confessed to everything, before walking my ass back to her house {the not-sexy-time kind of walk of shame} and returning the (completely insignificant, never-would-have-been-missed-if-I-hadn’t-tattled-on-myself) pillow.]

I climbed trees, tried to adopt every single stray animal that I came across [possums are people, too!], and split my time between playing pretend and being a huge nerd [a.k.a. teacher’s pet, a.k.a. the early signs of lesbianism…].

Did I mention I was awkward as hell?

Okay, so you’ve got the visual. Luckily, my parents saw that I was - real talk here - totally lacking grace and sophistication and anticipated that puberty would probably be hard on me. To help counteract the tempest of hormonal suffering I was about to undergo, they gave me the greatest book ever: the “What’s Happening to My Body? Book For Girls.”

You guys, this thing was THE JAM. They’ve updated it over the years, but I still have my original copy. It covered everything, from periods to having feelings for other girls [so progressive!]. I wore that shit out!

You see, while my parents were incredible people, and were always there for me [even though they were people, too, and going through their own tumults], reading about all the awful things that were about to happen to me was VASTLY preferred over asking my dad.

So by the time I actually did get my period, I didn’t think I was dying [just that there were dead babies coming out of me every month]. Every time I woke up with something new [what the fuck is this?!], I’d just flip through my book/bible {ah, let’s see. Chapter 6, article 7b. Oooooh. Hm. Well, then. So THAT’S what that is.} When I went from a size 0 to a size 7 in a matter of months [hello, birthing hips!], I understood it was the circle of life. When I finally got boobs…oh. wait. Still waiting on that one. [hrmph!] When random hair started growing in places that I was NOT happy about, I knew what to do.

And when I started being curious about S-E-X, I learned [way more than I wanted to]. Even back then, the line drawings of male bodies kinda, sorta grossed me out. ESPECIALLY when they were drawn having sex, with all their anatomically-correct parts being all erect. [ew!]

I read ALL ABOUT what sex entailed with boys. And I thanked my lucky stars I was only twelve and wouldn’t have to start doing that for a long, long time. Little did I know it would be NEVER. [muahahah! win!] I seriously even considered pulling the whole, “I’m waiting till marriage!” bullshit, just so I wouldn’t have to.

::cough:: GAY ::cough::

Looking back, there were SO many signs of my impending lesbianism. And thankfully, that book gave me options [I LOVE options!] and covered homosexuality {as a completely viable route as far as sexual orientation went}.

It was appreciated, especially down the line when my lady-parts were stirred by another lady. Not saying I rushed to dig out that old book at 18 years old when I first met Brittany, but not saying I didn’t, either.

[side-note: I was thinking about one day writing a book to help girls when they realize they’re gay, or might be, or what are these feelings?! omg!, and to give them guidance and my advice for coming out. Your thoughts?]

Anyway, so that book got me through [most of] the awkward years [you’d think at 26 I’d be past that shit by now!] and help me blossom into the confident, body-aware, sexuality-aware, lesbian ugly-duckling-turned-vixen/still a huge nerd that you see before you today.

Speaking of!

Vixenhood has been gloriousness lately.

[Man, that mirror is dirty! I bet Consuela would tear that shit up with some Lemon Pledge.]

Revolution has been wild, as usual. It was Tia Kadena’s birthday bash at Rev a couple weeks ago, and, as expected, it was filled with some serious wantonness with a pinch of utter indecency, a dash of depravity and a generous helping of lesbian merrymaking!

I approve this message.

And Frankie [a.k.a. Ana Mosity] and I keep showing up wearing the same thing. After years of working together, I guess it happens, but com’on now.

In other news, I had my debut show as an official cast member of Big Bang Boom! Cabaret. That’s right, it’s Facebook official, which clearly means it’s legit.

We had our “Iconic Women in History” show, and I called Joan of Arc [one history’s most famous “rumored” lesbonitas. Naturally].

I was super stoked to make my costume, and my boys were equally excited.

But really, why do they not understand that my costume stuff, which looks EXACTLY like all their toys, are not toys?! Try sewing yards of fringe when your cats sneak attack you at your sewing machine and haul ass around the house, fringe flying from their furry little faces. It’s hard as fuck.

But I ended up finishing my costume:

And I found THE PERFECT SONG. I’d been looking forward to this show for a month now, and it was totally epic!

All the girls KILLED IT. I was as excited to watch the other girls perform as I was to get on stage myself. And they did not disappoint. I wanted to make it rain for each and every one of them. Titillating!

Spot the lesbian!

Speaking of lesbian, funny story. So I’m the princess at Medieval Times, if you didn’t know that already. Hi.

And we get lots of people coming to see the show from all around the world. Right now, we’re getting lots of groups on senior class trips. They’re always from like, Podunk, Iowa or from All White People, Indiana with only 20 kids total in their entire graduating class.

Anyway! A few days ago we had one such group come to the show. And there was a girl who was CLEARLY a lesbian. I thought to myself, “If I was from Podunk, Iowa, and I end up going to the big city of Orlando, and to Medieval Times, and the PRINCESS is a lesbian, it would make my life.” So I employed some tactics to convey to this lonely little lesbian that I, too, am a gay’mo. Extended eye contact when they came up to take pictures. A wink. Arm around her. Side smile. Etc. After the show, her group came up to get autographs, and I heard the little lesbian whispering to her friends, “No, I swear she is! I really think she is!”

A random hot Russian chick [not from the high school] came up to take a picture with me, and after the picture, I made the sign of the cross, and little lesbian goes, “SEE!? SEE?!”

And then, of course, she comes up to get an autograph and all her friends are watching, with baited breath. I totally start chatting her up, and she was all doe-eyed and gazing adoringly at me.

It was awesome. hahahah

When I haven’t been on stages or in castles, breaking little lesbian hearts, I’ve been having sweet, sweet cuddle sessions with the only boys I’ll ever spoon:

And visiting ancient tress and pretending I’m from Fern Gully:

Oh, and I’ve been falling in love. Unlooked for, unpredicted, and unexpected [but isn’t that the best?]. I was not anticipating meeting someone after my last relationship ended. I thought I was just going to spend my time working, hanging out with friends and cats, and maybe going on some dates here and there. Oh, and lots and lots of masturbation.

But then I had coffee with a girl who is friends with some of my friends, and afterward I thought to myself, “Oh, shit. This could be trouble.”

You know, that really good kind of trouble where your hormones go crazy, your dopamine levels freak the fuck out, and you want to go buy all new underwear.

Ahem.

I thought to myself, “Be careful, little lady…remember what happened last time??”

But then I thought, “But life is too short! Why not?! Why shouldn’t I take a risk again?”

But then I thought, “But what if things go to shit??”

And then I thought, “So what if things go to shit? That’s life! And maybe I’ll get some good sex out of it!”

And then I thought, “Hm. Good point.”

And then I thought, “I know, right? See where I’m coming from?”

And I thought, “Yeah, yeah. You’re making a good case for yourself. Life IS too short. Gotta take those reins and ride it.”

“Exactly!”

“And she treats you really well…and every time you hang out with her, things just get more and more awesome…”

“I know! That’s what I’m saying!”

“So…are we gonna go for it?”

“Let’s do this.”

“Hey, are we schizophrenic?”

“It’s looking like maybe, yeah.”

But anyway! For better or for worse, what ended up happening was that I decided to go for it.

So…wanna meet her??

Her name is Kiley.

She’s a forensic underwriter data analyst. [smarty pants!]

And an artist.

She’s wicked funny, has her shit together, and is totally adorable.

She’s a HUGE lesbian. [yeahhhhh, kind of a requirement for me now…]

And clearly foxy as fuck.

And she has a cat, Lucifur!

She treats me extraordinarily well.

And makes me feel more like myself than anyone else has in a long, long time.

You guys, I REALLY like her.

I’ll leave the U-haul and turkey baster for all you other crazy lezzies out there, because while I’m a romantic, I’m also a realist. But wherever this goes or does not go, I sure am enjoying every moment. Life is too short to waste time on “what if’s”.

So, my loves…

I know I am!

Till next time!

Filed under life lesbian Lesbian Couple lesbians burlesque burlesque dancer ivylesvixens lgbt lgbtq glbt glbtq gay club gay girl gay girls story time medieval times princess

27 notes

April 20, 2013

Anonymous asked: how do you let girls know your also interested in girls too or lesbian? Im also a femme like you and like other femmes so is there something you do or hints u give?

Oh, girl. Ohhh, giiiiiirl. I feel you. You are suffering from the endemic and throbbing affliction know as “femme invisibility.” For those of you who have never heard of this, it’s probably because you’re straight or you’ve had short hair all your life and wear board shorts to the beach. But femme invisibility is the tragic lesbian phenomenon in which gay girls who are feminine in appearance have one helluva hard time convincing the gay community that they play for our team [but ew, not an actual sport.]. And I commiserate.

You see, even though the gay community KNOWS that there are more ways than one to be gay, and most gay girls, in fact, LOVE femme girls [worship us like the goddesses that we are], the community still clings to the antiquated idea of what a gaygal “should” look like. And if a girl happens to fall outside of that, and into - heaven forbid! - the category of what a “straight” girl “looks like”, then all hope is lost. Pretty girls in pretty dresses with pretty little lezzie hearts get completely ignored by the rest of the dyke community.

So, darling, you are not alone. There are so many of us lesbonitas out there who want to rock heels, lipstick, and long hair [don’t care], but who are tired of being shucked away into the “straight girl” category, simply because we really, really don’t want a faux hawk. As we speak, I’m wearing a cute little dress with horsies on it, complete with two coats of mascara, lipgloss, and cascading curls.

If I walk down the street, nothing about me screams HOMO. [aside from the fact that I’m holding hands and making out with some chick when we stop at the corner…] But if I don’t have a token DYKE on my arm, no one knows I’m gay. I fly completely under the radar of society, blending in with the masses of girlie girls out there.

In fact, even when I’m performing [in gay clubs across America] I’ve had girls come up to me and declare that I’m just some straight girl, trying to take advantage of the baby dykes who don’t know better. Bitch, please! I’m the gayest girl in the south. And not just because I’m a gold star. You guys know I’m pretty fuckin’ gay in most ways.

But that doesn’t stop people from thinking I’m straight. Despite slightly more visibility thanks to the media finally catching on a teeny tiny bit that the ‘mos & ‘bos are a very diverse demographic, I know there are about a zillion gay girlies out there who are absolutely fed-the-fuck up with being passed over because of the way we look. [hashtag: first world problems…]

But still!

How many times has a gorgeous femme girl had NO ONE approach her in the gay club because every boi, stud, and dyke in the room assumes she’s a fag hag or just a straight girl who got lost? That cute little lesbian in the bookstore would NEVER approach a femme-looking girl for fear of having some straight girl go, “Omg, ew! Shoo! Shoo! Get away!” [or just rejection in general].

The fact is, so many gay girls have trained themselves to not even notice “straight-looking” girls anymore. We dollfaced-dolls are oftentimes literally invisible to the gay girl eye. HRMPH! How the hell are we supposed to perform the lesbian mating ritual if our prey don’t know we’re hungry for them? You guys, it totally sucks!

Granted, there are some “benefits” to being femme. We don’t have to “come out” to the masses if we don’t want to. We can go into women’s restrooms without worrying that someone is going to think we’re in the wrong bathroom. We don’t have to face homophobia simply based on our looks, and no one is going to see us and want to bash in our heads with a baseball bat.

But it’s all a double-edged sword. As a feminist and a queer one at that, I don’t want the privilege that my appearance gives me. It’s not fair. [But that’s a {really effin’ long} rant for another day!]

So back to the actual question: how can femme girls communicate that we love Ani DiFranco, our favorite artist is Georgia O’Keeffe, and that we are SO down to don a strap-on and get down to lots of lezzy sexy-time business [and then get in a relationship 4 hours after meeting, move in with you after 2 weeks, and adopt a kitten]? How do we let you know we’re gay if we don’t wear polo shirts and cargo shorts? Do we need a secret handshake that only lesbians know?

Because the irony of the situation is that lesbians are WILD for femmes. Femmes are so pretty! And we smell so good! We’re like grown-up versions of My Little Ponies and we want to have sex with YOU! So it’s no wonder you dykes out there are constantly asking, “Where are all the femme girls?” Right in front of your faces, but how the hell would you know that?

So…should we lipsticks try to dress more “gay”? <-the answer to that is no.

Dresses are my natural habitat. I will never chop off my locks. I tried to do that whole, “androgynous” look this one time. I was like, “Yeah! I’m gonna butch it up!” So I put on a button-up shirt, a tie, some black pants…and then I put on heels. And lots of eye makeup. And spent 20 minutes doing my hair. See?? It just doesn’t work!

And it doesn’t work on multiple levels. A.) We wouldn’t be femmes anymore, and EFF THAT NOISE. Talk about fucking for virginity, amIright?! And B.) We’d be going against our nature and lying to the world. And no one should have to change for someone else. Ever. Or lie about who they really are. [it’s just not the Unicorn Way, my friends.]

So. We all agree trying to butch it up is NOT the way to go, and would make no one happy. And this is all about being happy, right? Right.

Let’s start with one of the most useful tools [and also sometimes our worst enemy] in the lesbian toolbox: the lesbian rumor mill. Tell the chattiest dyke you can find that you’re gay. I give it 45 minutes before every lesbian in town knows about you and you have a hundred new Facebook friend requests.

More than that, come out! Whenever you can [as long as you’re safe]! Find ways to casually talk about being a ‘bo in your daily conversations: “Oh, yeah, music is cool. My ex-girlfriend was a musician. Her band sucked, but I pretended to be supportive.” “Oh, yeah, the new iPhone 5 is cool. And there’s always cute girls working at the Apple Store, so it’s still a win for me if I drop my phone again.” “Oh, yeah, veganism is cool. A lot of my people tend to be vegan. And by my people, I mean queers. Which I am. Super queer. Gay as the day is long, baby! So, you know, in case you were wondering.”

Another tip: as gay as it sounds [haha], try wearing something gay. We, as femmes, already know the power of good accessories. Use those powers for good, my loves! I have an adorable equality ring that I wear, and totally flash it at the cute barista every time I take a sip of tea at Starbucks. Discreet rainbow here and there? Yes, please. A pink triangle sticker on your laptop? Sure thing!

And while having a rainbow flag on your purse might not be your style, who cares if it lands you the girl of your dreams who otherwise would not have approached you?!

But if blatant queer accessories doesn’t sound like your cup of tea, why not try something else that might get the ladies thinkin’ you’re not as hetero as you look? For example, I tend to mix butch with babe. Combat boots with dresses. A button-up and bowtie with an A-line skirt and red lips. And keep those nails short, ladies! [such a goodie!]

And what I’ve found to be THE BEST WAY for me to get the ladies: CONFIDENCE. Be brave. Make eye-contact [and lots of it!]. Make the first move. Go after that hot boi dyke. Buy that girl a coffee. Buy that girl a drink at the bar. Ask someone to dance. Ask someone out. Jaws might hit the floor, but do it anyway. Prance your fancy little femme ass up to whichever girl catches your eye and be bold, my loves! And honestly, just smile and make eye-contact. Hearts will flutter when you flutter them lashes, girl.

Good luck, and happy hunting, my little pretty pretty princesses! Oh, and all you dykes out there begging for some femmes…how about you put in some effort, too, eh? ‘Cause I mean, let’s get real: everyone’s at least a little gay, even if they don’t know it yet - and that includes straight girls.

Filed under lesbian femme glbt glbtq advice lgbt lgbtq femme girls gay girl gay girls dyke

9 notes

October 9, 2012

Happy Pride, lovers!

I hope you all had a wicked good weekend! It was PRIDE here in Orlando, and it was absolutely out of control!

Of course there were festivities going on all week, but the big to-do was, of course, Saturday at Lake Eola. Hundreds, even thousands, of gay people crowding the streets of downtown and the Thorton Park area. It’s known as the Gayborhood, even without Pride going on, and ironically, it’s also where I live [or maybe it’s known as the Gayborhood BECAUSE it’s where I live].

But anyway - vendors, food sellers, and rainbow EVERYTHING crowded around the lake along with the horde of homos. It was glorious! I love seeing everyone out and about, being PROUD of their love. I love it! I love it! I love it! [Now, ladies & gents & everyone in between, KEEP THAT SHIT UP ALL YEAR LONG, K?!]

I was decked out in my ridiculous sequin-spangled barely-outfit, but what’s Pride without some crazy people, eh? ;)

At 4 o’clock my favorite part of the day-of-Pride festivities started: the parade!

I was on Revolution’s float, as always. But this year instead of just waving and blowing kisses, I was dancing my ass off (and trying not to BUST MY ASS with our erratic float driver). And, you know, waving and blowing kisses. :)

SO MUCH FUN I LOVE MY LIFE OMGAHHHHH!!

After the parade, I went home to shower, and then off to get some noms with the Bunny and some friends. We finished dinner just in time to catch the fireworks at the lake!

How amazing is it that we get to have FIREWORKS at our Pride?! It’s like the 4th of July but WAY MORE colorful. ;)

The entire day was just brilliant and amazing, full of love and passion and pride. But then it was time for the night to take over and for the party to really get started. And HOLY BABY JESUS IN A JAM JAR! Revolution Nightclub…you were TREMENDOUS!

We had 1300 packed into Revolution. Packed like Jesus in a jam jar. The line was around the building at 10 o’clock!

Now, allow me to put this into perspective. At Medieval Times, our arena’s capacity is 1200 people. So we fit 100 MORE PEOPLE into Revolution than fit into a dinner show’s ARENA. CRAZY!

I had an amazing, sweaty time, gettin’ down and dirty on the dance floor with 1300 lesbos!!