Last Day of 2016

I can’t believe how time as flown.  I also can’t believe how little I’ve been blogging.  I just haven’t had the energy.  Or at least, that’s the excuse I’m going to use.

I’m not doing resolutions of any sort this year.  Overall, I’m pleased with the direction my life is going.  I’m pleased with the choices I’m making.  I don’t feel an overwhelming urge to change my life in a major way at this point.

I have a job I like. I have good friends who support me.  I have an active dating life (haha, maybe too active).  My family is getting used to the fact that I’m gay.  I’m eating okay, and although I need to get back on the exercise track and lose a bit of weight, that’s a lifelong struggle.

Today I’m making slow cooker butter chicken.  So far, it’s looking perfect.  I’m also making homemade no-knead bread (lazy me) for blackened carrot & cannellini bean sandwiches (which are way better than they sound).  I’m not going out tonight, so this is my way of celebrating.

I hope you all have a safe and fun New Years Eve.

second date update

I snuck out of a second date tonight.  Like a complete ass.

I had a pretty good first date with her last weekend, but I was unsure of a few things.  However, still willing to go on a second, because that’s how you find out, right?  She feels similarly about gender (although is self-described gender-fluid, which is different).  But there were all these things… some shallow, maybe most shallow, it’s hard to say.

Her hair did nothing for me.  (I am a sucker for good hair.)  She was a giggler.  Wtf.  I laugh, all the time. But I laugh.  I am not into giggles.  The occasional chuckle, sure.  Giggles?  What are we?  Fifteen year old girls?!  It’s so unattractive.

And then for the real kicker. She kept telling me how excited she was to see me, how she had a good feeling about me, how she liked all these things about me.  (What things? We went on one date.)  And that made me so incredibly anxious.  It sets up expectations that I know I can’t meet (nor do I want to).  Sure, be excited, but keep it to yourself. I don’t want to know it.

So here we are on this date. We had a casual dinner, then were going to watch Fantastic Beasts.  I’m freezing cold because I got cold at dinner and couldn’t warm up again (my life story).  The movie was not exciting me.  And I felt dread and anxiety about the person sitting next to me, giggling.  So I got up to use the bathroom and ran out to my car where I texted that I left because I wasn’t into the movie, was anxious, and was an ass.  She wrote back to say she hoped we could try again.  Um. No?

I need to be with someone that I’m into and that doesn’t fill me with anxiety.  And maybe that person doesn’t exist–which is cool so long as I get some action here and there.  And even if not, I’m pretty good with being by myself, to be honest.

Ugh.

androgyny

I went out on like three dates last week.  It was too many.  One was a butch, with whom I had nothing in common.  She was hot, but our lives were too opposite.  Another was a librarian, but she had nothing interesting to say (or maybe I didn’t). Regardless, we couldn’t find any points of connection.  The last was a femme who doesn’t believe bisexuals exist and that trans or gender non-conforming people insisting on their correct/chosen pronouns is annoying.  (I do not have time for that kind of shit. It’s 2016. And shouldn’t we LGBTQ+ folk be interested in the welfare of the whole group, not just the L or G??)

Speaking of femmes, speaking of beating a dead horse, I have tried and tried. I just can’t get into them.  I’ve done my best.  I’m giving up.

I don’t think it’s being a femme that inherently turns me off. I think it’s their perspective on gender (to be fair, not all of them will feel this way).  I finally am starting to figure something out.  I don’t want to be made to feel gender.  The femmes I’ve gone out with have all wanted me to be the masculine butch. But I don’t want to be that.  I think I fall more into the androgynous butch category (is this a category? If not, I’m making it one right now).  I dress butch, but I feel androgynous.  I don’t want to feel like a woman and I don’t want to feel like a man.  I want to feel like a nothing.

I still feel most comfortable with she/her pronouns, although I suppose that could change.  But even if it doesn’t, I’m allowed to feel like neither and use female pronouns, right?

So that to say, when I’m with other androgynous or butch women, they never make me feel gender.  They just feel like me, which is a good feeling.  In retrospect, the ones I’ve felt the most connection with have had similar feelings about their gender.

So now I’m learning to express this, learning that it’s important.  And I’m learning what it means for me.