Monday, June 28, 2010


Last week my manager, Tank, asked what J and I were planning for the weekend, and I told him I didn’t have anything going on, just relaxing. He mentioned that San Francisco Pride was coming up, and I laughed and told him that we really weren’t “those kinds of lesbians.” And really, it’s quite a trip to take (J has never been to SF, except for a concert once), and I knew a hotel would cost an arm and a leg, if there were even any rooms available (which was very doubtful). So, later that day Tank said he had talked to his daughter who just recently bought a place in Oakland, and she told him to give me her number so that I could call her if we decided to make the journey that weekend for the parade. So, I text messaged her right away and told her thanks, but that I wasn’t going to make it, and we chatted back and forth for a while, and somewhere in there she offered to be a listener if I needed her for any support in my situation. She is my age, and has been married almost two years to a woman. See, they live in California and a few years ago homosexual marriage was made legal, and it was for a few months until it was voted not legal again, and in the window that they could marry each other they did, and are still seen as married in CA. Anyhoo, it was nice of her to offer to listen.

That night J and I were hanging out at her apartment and I got a text from Tank’s daughter, saying she and the wife discussed it and that J and I were to come up and stay with them in their home and go to Pride and have a blast. She also mentioned that they would be entertaining another person or two, and that as long as we brought an air mattress and didn’t hate dogs we were more than welcome. So, we went.

It was fun, although I saw way too many naked people. We got there Saturday at around 4 pm, and sat around with them on their patio and drank wine and beer, and ate a killer vegan pizza that Tank’s daughter’s wife made. A couple was there, a lady named Wendy McMillian (an actress in a lesbian movie called Go Fish from the 90s), and her girlfriend, and they were wonderful. See, I think gay people intimidate me. But all the ladies at Tank’s daughter’s house were great. Really great.

So, we went to The City that evening, around 7. There was a dyke march, and we jumped in and walked to the Castro District. It was a nice night, and after hanging out on the streets for a while we decided to go to a bar. A bar that google describes as, “The Lexington Club: Your Friendly Neighborhood Dyke Bar” It was fabulous! There were hot girls EVERYWHERE. Butches left and right. It was insane. J and I felt like awkward foreigners (at least, I did), not able to believe that places like this exist. A hot girl offered to let me feel her up (?!?). Anyway, it was an experience.

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

I'm sorry

I don't really know what to say. Thanks for the emails to those of you that wrote to make sure I'm alive.

I am in a funk I guess.  I've been busy at work, lots of co-workers have been vacationing so the few of us that haven't taken off are picking up the slack.

My family relationships (or lack thereof) have been getting to me more than usual.  My sister (the one that watches Clem) asked me not to come to her baby's dedication at church a few weeks back, and while I understand her perspective (she doesn't want me to have any spiritual influence on her daughters), it hurts quite a bit.  We had a good talk that day, I listened to her concerns and didn't argue, and I tried really hard not to cry in front of her, but it didn't work.  I tear up even just typing about it.

My ex has moved away.  For now Clem spends one week with me and one with him and we are switching off like that all summer.  She is with him this week, and I miss her terribly at times. I took her to her dad's on father's day, and drove back home in time to have dinner at my parents' house.  I felt so out-of-place, but I realize it's a position I've put myself in. I had no child, no partner, and I felt like less of a daughter to my dad because I know how hard the whole process of me breaking up with my spouse and then dating someone of the same sex has been on him, and I wonder if I'm ever going to feel like his girl again. I am terrified.

I don't mean to make this a total downer post, I have been having fun, I just feel like I am starting to adjust and sometimes it gets overwhelming.  I'm one of those people that hopes.  I hope a lot.  I expect a lot too. I find myself expecting the things I have hoped, and that's where I find trouble.  I had hopes for my relationship with J in regards to my family. I still do, and I think it's those expectations that tend to get me down. I want them to see what I see, you know? I want them to understand. And I know they aren't the ones to blame, and I try so hard to tell myself that they only want what's best for me, and being with J isn't what they believe is best, but I just feel so alone without them sometimes, and it has been hard.

So, thanks for listening. I promise another post (about sewing mouths shut) soon.