Tomboy to Butch…My Story

Anyone else relate to being a tomboy?  Being trans and being a tomboy / gender non-conforming child often go hand in hand, but often the two are mutually separate…     a question posed by janitorqueer on their blog.

Growing up I constantly fought with my parents over my clothing choices, they wanted me to dress in girl clothes and I wanted boy clothing. From as early as I can remember, probably about 4-5 yrs old, I would always go for the more boyish looking items in my clothing…the little jeans, the coveralls and t’shirts.  In the summer it was cut off shorts and as boyish a shirt as I could find.  Yes, I was a tomboy for sure.  From the very beginning of my conscious existence I wanted nothing to do with girl things, period.

My parents made me keep long hair until I was about 7.  The summer of that year we moved to Troy New York to an old farm and Mom took us to get hair cuts, I was allowed to cut my hair to a pixie cut….as one can imagine, this did wonders for my ego, as well as my tomboy status.  I was in heaven with that short hair cut.

Was I aware at the time that I was a tomboy?  I’m not sure of that.  I definitely knew that I felt different from the other girls. I didn’t feel like one of them, like a girl at all.  I felt more like a boy, and wanted to be a boy for a long time.  Maybe I never out grew it even.  I loved hanging out with the boys, doing the boy activities like playing Army or cowboys and Indians, apple wars (our farm was a former orchard) and building tree forts.  I could throw a baseball from center field to home plate with no problem, and did I love my sandlot baseball games!!!  I was also leader of the pack so to speak, I would step forward to organize games and activities like a boss.

I think as time went on and I advanced through school grades my tomboy image became more apparent to those around me.  Kids don’t gender each other negatively as much.  But once they begin to form opinions and take on their parents’ prejudices around the age of 10, things change.  It was around then that I really began to notice that my dressing attire was more boyish than the other girls.  I always knew that I was Gay anyway, even way back when I was small my little fantasies were of me and other girls, never of boys.  I would secretly pretend I was going to marry a girl someday.  And my little games of house, where I was always the husband, always included kissing the girl who was my pretend wife.

High school was rough for me.  I was well liked, don’t let me mislead you on that, but I was different.  I was a rough, tough and tumble sort of kid.  I never grew past 5’4″ which I hit my Sophomore year of high school.  I hated girls clothing; loathed it especially bras.  I didn’t like the fact I was developing breasts, and they were a pain in the ass.  My father noticed my dressing habit and insisted that I wear dresses to school 4 days a week (this actually happened in 8th grade), and I could wear pants on Friday if they were girly pants.  I went ballistic as you might imagine.  I even took it so far as to run away from home for 3 days, living in the woods by our information center and having friends bring me food – little bastards also set me up to be captured on the 3rd day!  I wanted to wear jeans, I wanted to dress my own way.  If I had had my choice back then (late 70’s) I would have shopped exclusively in the boys department.

I started to run with a more seedy crowd about then.  I started to smoke cigarettes and pot.  I had dabbled with cigarettes that I used to steal from my parents’ supplies before that, but in high school I started buying my own packs.  I had my own money because I got my first job at 14, my freshmen year, at a small take-out food place and I worked as much as I could. I also started to notice girls, and had several “girl crushes” along the way.

Having my own money source changed things considerably.  It felt good.  My parents were not rich, they were struggling, working class people, trying hard to raise 5 kids and keep the house they owned in one piece.  My Dad was the epitome of manhood.  He worked his ass off at usually 2 jobs, night and day, and was never home.  I was personally petrified of the man.  He had a temper and his lectures were harsh.  Never did he strike us kids, but we were always afraid of his wrath, his restrictions, and his authority.  My mother would say “wait til your father gets home.” And we would literally beg and cry at her not to tell him of our infractions. And my mother was the ultimate working mom, somehow always there when we got home from school days after working all morning.

So, anyway, having my own money around then changed things because I could fund my own growing bad habits, pay for gas for friends cars, and buy some of my own clothes — clothes that I wanted!  It was around this time that I bought my first pair of boots, shit kickers we called them.  They were brown suede hiking boots with red laces.  Thus began my boot fetish.  I was never again without a good pair of boots.  And there were the hip hugger jeans, that my parents hated and I was forbidden to wear to school.  Still I could not wear denium to school, that would last through my senior year.  I was allowed to wear corduroys, which were styled just like Jeans and made by Levi’s even.  I would frequently sneak a pair of jeans to school in my backpack and change before I got to school grounds.

In High School I was in charge of making it to school on my own.  I had 3 choices of getting there.  I could ride the bus with the little kids and get dropped off at the high school, or I could get a ride from my friend Vernon in his cool brown Chevy pick up truck, or I could ride my 10 speed bicycle.  Walking wasn’t an option, as it was several miles to the school and I would never have made it on time.  Although there were many days that I walked home from school after detention period. I usually skipped the bus option, because I could ride with Vern and get stoned on the way in.  The 10 speed was my second choice, and I used to revel in the ride.  It was great first thing in the morning, as the cool sea air made the ride pretty pleasant.  The freedom to be myself was slowly coming to me.

In school I was a troubled kid.  I made B grades though, and some A’s.  I was running with the wild crowd though.  I did try playing sports for a while, but I was a gawky kid.  I didn’t feel like I fit in with the jock crowd at all.  Plus the locker room was a VERY uncomfortable place for me as I was super body conscious.  I gave up sports my sophomore year after the season for softball ended.  The rest of high school I just concentrated on trying to make it through to 18 so I could flee this small town that I lived in.  I tried dating boys, but I hated it because I knew it wasn’t me.  I discovered that the store near the ball field was owned by two “lesbians”….first time I heard that word I knew I was one of them.

I had encouraging teachers at school who knew I was prone to trouble and who seemed to care and tried to keep me busy.  My art teacher encouraged me to love my art work and my English teacher pushed me to write and helped me develop a passion for writing.  My shop teacher loved that I loved wood and metal shop so much that I never skipped his class!  Algebra was an epic fail for me, but consumer math I excelled at and got straight A’s…I could work with accounting but not with X=Y crap.

At this point my typical dressing style was corduroys (per parents) or jeans, a button down shirt and a dark brown corduroy jacket, styled like a jean jacket.  It’s all I could get away with with my parents.  And those glorious hiking boots.  I was fairly happy with this, until the day I got called “lezzie” by one of the guys in my gang.  That day changed things a bit.  He said it because his girlfriend was my best friend and we were both tomboys, hung out together all the time and were inseparable, he got jealous I think, and thus in front of the rest of the gang called us a couple of “Lezzies”…I was mortified and felt so exposed.  I had the typical girl crush on my bestie, but never had I pursued that crush.  That was basically the end of us hanging out together so much.  And the beginning of me realizing that I had to cover my tracks or I would be “found out” that I really was a lesbian.

I graduated from high school at 18 1/2 and was super eager to get out of my parents house.  The drinking age was 18 and on my 18th birthday I had one hell of a party at my house, with my parents permission.  I had taken to hanging out with my buddy Billy, racing around town in his jalopy cars and smoking pot at Dead Duck Inn, which was a park near the water.  I was a hell raiser and bound for trouble.  Billy was safe for me, he liked me I know, but I knew he was too shy to ever try anything and I could be my tomboy self with him.  Still to this day we are friends.  Our parents always thought we would marry, until it became apparent I was lesbian.

After I graduated I went buck wild and moved in with my then boyfriend Christopher.  After a couple of months of drug fueled nights and scary days, and him wanting to have sex and me not wanting to have sex with a guy.  We had a big fight and it turned violent.  I had to flee the house, and I felt that I needed to get out of the small town we lived in quickly.  So I joined the US Army and was a soldier 3 days later.

The Uniforms made me happy, dressed like all the guys.  The boots made me happy, my boot fetish got bigger.  The guns made me happy, and the crawling through the woods and fields, sleeping in foxholes and avoiding sniper fire all made me incredibly happy.  I was a tomboy in my total element, and I loved it.  Those years of sandbox Army were paying off.  I even started playing Army softball, with a bunch of other lesbian identified women.  Some were also tomboys, and some were not.  But most all of them were secretly lesbian, as the Army at that time frowned on women sleeping with women.

There I met my first real lover.  She was a blonde girl from Pennsylvania and was more girly than me, but still not too girly and I liked that.  She complimented my tomboy stature quite well I thought.  She introduced me to sex, gay bars, and Jack Daniels whiskey.  And by this time I had completely discarded any clothing that resembled girly clothing from my wardrobe, except the necessary evil under things.  At that time it wasn’t really known that I could get boxers or boxer briefs and be more comfortable, it just wasn’t done then.  The early 80’s were not fun times for LGBT people, especially those of us in the US military uniform.

Around that time I heard the word “Butch” for the first time….other than as my Dad’s nickname….used to describe the tomboyish women in my Army unit.  And I knew that that word described who I felt that I was…Butch.  I didn’t use the word to identify myself for several more decades, as it was a more derogatory term for quite a long time.  But I always knew it was my true identity.  I didn’t feel female, nor did I feel male. But I was somewhere in that gray area in the middle.  I for years refrained from using it to identify myself.  I was made to feel that my masculine presentation was somehow wrong, even though I was just being me; just being myself.

Years later, decades later actually, I would understand the Butch-Femme dynamic, know the history of my people and be proud to take “Butch” as my gender marker.  Going from easily being called Tomboy to being called Butch was as simple for me as someone going from being called a girl to a woman.   It felt right, it felt strong, and it felt like ME.  I am Butch.

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Snow…Dating…Sex….What’s up!?

Saturday, 24th…It’s snowing like crazy here today and I am stuck inside watching the flakes rain down from the clouds. There is not even any reason to get dressed, other than to go outside to shovel, today. I’m going to stay in my comfortable clothes, my flannel pajama pants and a sweatshirt and slippers all day, yes, it’s just going to be a lazy snow day! Even the dog has hunkered down and is being ubber cuddly; just wants to snuggle up with me and be petted and made of. I’d rather have a nice hot woman here to snuggle with, but in absence of that I will settle for cuddling on the couch with the dog and a warm blanket.

I woke up this morning sick to my stomach…complete with headache and body aches…thinking I may be have a little flu bug. I’m not bad now, but first thing was pretty miserable for me. I don’t often get sick but when I do it’s always sudden and harsh, then I slowly get better over the course of a day or so.

Monday.…Jan. 26, 2015

Ok, weird thought in my head, about how women hit on each other sometimes. I remembered the time in my life, in my 20’s that I asked a woman to come over and check out my rock collection…true story! On a side note, I ended up in a relationship with that woman for the next year or so as I finished out my time in the Army at Ft. Sill, Oklahoma…obnoxious as it sounds it was a great pick up line, she knew exactly why she was invited over, not naive to think I really had a rock collection…… I think that most women are pretty smart in that respect, they know that a Butch has some lame pick up lines sometimes, and even some cute ones that can’t be resisted 😉  (Tell me your BEST pick up line that worked in the comments below!)

I generally only respond to women who show interest. And I ‘m not one to bug or annoy a woman, I don’t get into calling or texting her repeatedly without response. That to me is just rude. If you can’t take a hint like “she’s not returning my texts, maybe she’s not interested.” I just don’t get it. If she’s interested in me she will respond, if she’s not then she won’t. That’s how calls and texts work. I’ve learned quite a bit about attentiveness and the like in the last year. I’ve definitely learned that if a woman wants my attention then she has to show me by giving me her time and attention too. And if she doesn’t respond then she probably isn’t interested or doesn’t wish to be bothered.

Dating has been a big topic in my social circles lately. Seems every one wants to discuss dating styles and types, and who’s dating who and how each of us goes about the dating “dance”. Ah, and it IS a fine tuned dance for sure. I don’t take dating lightly, when I probably should be more relaxed about it and just go out more often and meet some nice women. I tend to be shy meeting new people, I watch their eyes and their body language to try to start to learn about them. Do they make eye contact? Do they cross their arms across their chests in that “don’t talk to me stance”? How are they reacting with their other friends?

Problem is with ME being shy is that I often encounter the best women, the ones I am attracted to the most are also somewhat shy. Two shy don’t make a date! Eeek! I know that if I just applied myself even the slightest bit more here that I would have no problem dating, it’s just that I am so damned picky, and my being picky isn’t helping me to find a good woman to love. Back in the days when I used to drink/drug I had no problem with shyness, it goes away about drink #2 with me, but I dislike drinking too much now to use it for much. Occasionally I will have a Twisted Tea or a Hard Lemonade, but rarely do I have more than 3…that’s my limit and that’s rare that I even do that nowadays. I like having my wits about me, and I don’t like a sloppy drunk, so I don’t suppose that other women would either.

I’ve been in a pretty good mood lately actually, even though things aren’t going exactly as I wished they were, I’m in a fairly good space personally. I don’t know why, I just feel a little more relaxed inside, less anxious these past few days. I’ve been doing a lot of meditation and deep thinking…I needed to do just that, to relax and just let my thoughts carry me through a bit of a rough patch.

I’ve learned over the years that you cannot force someone to like or love you. That’s just a fact. And I’ve been on the circuit for 4 decades now, dating, long term relationships and affairs, one-nighters, and a little kink thrown in for good measure…yeah I admit it, I don’t deny that I am a sexual being at all. As a matter of fact I think sex is a wonderful thing, but it’s only part of the equation in any relationship, it’s the icing on the cake so to speak, there is just so much more to building and maintaining a good, solid relationship. Plus, I am not looking for just sex anymore, I want more than that with a woman…yes, preferably with one singular woman.

I can’t turn on my feelings and turn them off with some kind of switch. I don’t even have a 3-way bulb type setting which you might be able to turn up brighter at will and down or off at will. My heart doesn’t work on an “at will” basis at all. When I meet a woman I am interested in, it’s a funny little dance, and a scary one for me. My mind goes into the whole “what IF” mode really fast. Like what if she doesn’t like Butches? Or what if she is bi-sexual? Or what if I am not good enough? What if, what if. Then if I meet one that I really like, all hell breaks out in my head.

I get told a lot that I am good looking, that I am funny and that I am sweet, ect. I’m very flattered, but I am truly your run-of-the-mill Butch, in my opinion. There’s nothing really special about me, although I wish there were! I’m not rich, or famous, or a knight in shining armor (I really want to be that last one especially!)

Tonight I had a really nice, long talk with a very good friend (who I hope to see soon) and she helps me sort of talk through what’s going on in my head…she for some reason is a rare person that I can really feel comfortable with in discussing stuff like sex and sexual stuff. She assured me it’s not a looks thing, that I am handsome enough, just a little too shy. She’s taught me a lot in the 5+ years that we’ve known each other, and I respect her opinions very highly. But tonight she reminded me that there are billions of women in the world and a good portion of them are lesbian and eligible to date…I just need to relax and let it happen and not try to force the issue.

I find it difficult to talk about sex…and in today’s world of 2015 EVERYONE is talking about sex, and very openly and blatantly! I hear more things on TV that I would be embarrassed to say myself! I wish I were more verbal about it, then maybe I wouldn’t get myself into that vulnerable space of talking about it and I could relax. I am going to work on that for sure. For now, I am sort of enjoying my sex life vicariously through this dear friend of mine, who tells me of her awesome adventures quite frequently – and I enjoy hearing about them! So why do I find it so difficult to talk about sex myself? If I can read about it, watch it on screen, participate in it and think about it all the time…why the hell can I not verbalize my own needs comfortably and confidently? I am betting that things would be far better for me if I could. I’ve found very few women that I could be really comfortable with in discussing what I like in sex and what I don’t and the such. I do like women who will entice me to talk about sex with them, who know how to get to me. And I’m extremely good at show and tell though….that gets me by! 🙂 hahahaha

I’ve been working harder at connecting with my friends lately. I realize that I am not good at that, that I am not attentive to my friendships the way that one should be. So I’ve made a concerted effort to do just that lately. My buddy in AZ called again tonight too! It was awesome to chat with her for a half hour and catch up on the goings on in her life, and to discuss a possible visit for 2015. I’d love to see her and her hubby sometime later this summer. He has to travel in warmer weather as he’s older and the cold really bothers him. She and I share Army history together, so it’s cool that we have stayed in contact now for 35 years. And when we talk it is just like no time at all has gone by, even when it’s been maybe a year or more since our last conversation, we still pick right up where we left off. This year, I think we are both making more effort, as that’s the 3rd time we’ve talked since New Years’ Eve. And we also text occasionally and email.

It’s funny, because I think sometimes that I don’t have many friends, but in all actuality I do! They are just spread across the world and our contact is more limited to phone, texting, email and once in a while, Skype. I’ve done well thus far in 2015 in touching base with most of them. Old Army friends, childhood friends, and other friends from different times in my life, as well as today’s friends who live close by. Friendships are important, and have to be nurtured.

Newer friendships that I have made online, like my Canadian contacts…I just love them all. Not a day goes by that I don’t hear from one of them somehow. Canadians seem to be the best at communication online I’ve noticed. And they are the BEST letter writers for sure! 🙂 I have a Canadian friend who I exchange long hand-written letters with on a monthly basis usually. We both enjoy the vanishing art of writing a good letter to someone, and it’s so cool to go to the mailbox and find a nifty letter waiting among all the bills and junk mail.

I think that 2015 is going to be a good year for seeing some of these friends. I have been talking to a couple of them who wish to come up to Maine for a visit this year. And it’s looking like a good year for travel with the fuel prices being down and airfare being more reasonable as a result. I’ll be sprucing my house up for visits, making it look as nice as I can make the little box look. I wish my neighborhood were nicer, people just don’t take the care that I do with my place around here. The unit next door to mine needs to be hauled away and scrapped soon, it looks awful and is just dragging the property value of the other surrounding places down with it’s horrible condition. I don’t know HOW people LIVE in there, it must be some cold and nasty. My unit is only 18 yrs old and is in nice condition. Plus I strive to keep it really nice, I keep the yard nice, don’t let stuff build up and I keep the inside very neat and clean. It’s important to me that it be as nice as possible all the time so that it’s presentable to guests and for me to live happily in.

Ok…I will finish this long rambling blog up by saying PEACE! And everyone in the North Eastern US I hope that you are safely, and warmly, hunkered down in your homes while this wild blizzard rolls over us in the next 24 hours. I know I will be here online, writing and reading and playing on Facebook most all day unless we lose power…which I hope and pray we do not, because heat goes with power….and it will be mighty cold! If that happens I will retreat, in my 4 wheel drive SUV, to my sister’s home about 5 miles away. She has a beautiful woodstove in her nicely finished basement.

Fire and want

The smoldering fire, white hot, rages

In my gut, my heart, my loins

I crave to take you there

Completely, unashamedly

To places only you dream

Of

On days that end in Y

Your why is never questioned

You obey, you submit, you come

To me, willingly, softly, fiercely

Rage

In my mind, in my fingertips

Playing across your moist skin

Weaving through your thick hair

Finding places to seek and hide

Lust

For things unspoken yet necessary

To bring us to that precipice

That edge of abandonment

Sweat and heat of deepest desire

Sex

Passionate, biting and searing

Courses though my expanded veins

Rhythm beating in my heart, in my heat

Ravaging; ripping through your love

Silence

As my hand finds its way

To cover your scream, hold you down

Not yet my needy lover, for only

When I say you can will you

Come.

To me in the midnights hours

With visions of torment, satisfaction, release

Sighs of relief and exhaustion

Red-hot fire is streaming through my body

Spent.

The Butch-Femme Friendship Dilemma

I recently had a question asked by two different viewers on my Youtube channel, and it gave me pause for thought, and fodder for a blog and vlog on the topic. The question is “Can Butches and Femmes be just  friends?”  Meaning here, can they successfully navigate the terrain of friendship –  without becoming emotionally involved and without sex becoming a factor or issue in the equation?

Facebook is the prime example of epic failure in the realm of Butch-Femme friendship.  More drama and crap goes across the status bar of that application than I can even fathom.  Personally I don’t let it bother me when someone un-friends me because I tell the truth, hey I know the truth hurts!  And if you can’t run with the big dogs, stay on the porch. If you can’t take the truth, GTFO .  Because I tell it like I see it, and for some that seems to be just a tad bit too insightful for them, they are afraid I may call their bullshit like I see it.  Hell, it has happened and I have been un-friended by both Butches and Femmes  in the past, for doing just that – calling bullshit when I see it.   I don’t care to be a spectator in anyone’s  drama filled exchanges…and why would I?  Nope just not into the drama myself,  so take your “friendship” – and I use the term lightly – and GTFO.  Good riddance.  I don’t need the bullshit believe me – neither do you.

So can Butches and Femmes ever really be “friends”?   I am not sure.  I know that I approach every relationship in my life from an angle of friendship.  I offer myself as a friend.  Sex, when used as a weapon in any relationship from friendship to the romantic realm, is just wrong.  And sexual exchanges of innuendo or as “come on” talk within a friendship is not acceptable behavior from anyone who wishes to just be friends.

What I do know for myself is that Butch – Butch bromances are needed and necessary.  I am sure it’s the same for Femmes, although I cannot speak to their thoughts directly. You often need the advice of someone who possibly thinks a bit more like you do; who has walked the path that you are on and knows the ropes across that wiggly bridge.  Advice and having an ally are valuable tools in navigating this minefield of this LGBT  life.  When I have Butch things that I think only another Butch would be able to relate to then I take my questions to my other Butch friends.  If I am having Femme issues I might consult a Femme friend for insight, but it’s my Butch buddies that give me the most support; needed, necessary and like-minded support.

I do think that Butches and Femmes can be friends without sex or relationship stuff becoming an issue but it takes mature people to make the friendship.  And there is also that category of acquaintance versus actual friend.  Acquaintances are those who you know, but aren’t very close to, perhaps it’s your buddy’s girl, or the girl at work, she’s someone that you wouldn’t persue a real friendship with anyway.

Generally when a Femme puts you into the “friend” category, you stay there regardless.  Any sort of romance that may pop up are usually just fleeting things and you stay in the friendship category, because most Femmes are strong willed, solidly minded and once you are in that category there is no such thing as a “get out of friendship free” pass, it’s lost somewhere between the “go to jail” and the “get 100 condoms free” passes in life.  She wants to be your friend not your lover.  She wants to tell you how to dress better, not undress you.  She wants to talk to you like she would talk to another Femme, not like she would converse with you if she were sleeping with your ass.  Exhibit one…she will tell you about the fabulous Butch she fucked last weekend…a lover or potential girlfriend would definitely not be telling you those things. Because if she saw you as a potential lover or sex partner she would want you to think that you are the only one, so if she’s telling you about her latest conquests then you are definitely in the friend category.  Stay there.

When Butches and Femmes cross that threshold between friendship and a relationship one of two things happens.  Either they get together and stay that way, or the friendship goes straight into the shitter.  The second may happen slower, but it will eventually happen as you drift apart, one of you becoming more distant, you talk less, and then poof, no more friendship.

As you grow older in life and you gain experience in dealing with various personality types along the way, you gain insight and intuition about things.  You learn to know the difference between friendly gestures and those with romantic overtones.  You can feel when someone is not telling the whole truth, but is giving you marginal information to keep you in some sort of spot where they can later manipulate you into whatever they wish.  You learn to avoid those people, they are toxic.  Butch or Femme.  Toxic.

Basics of Butch – Femme Friendships

No pet names…once a pet name is given some sort of weird connection happens, it breaks boundaries.

No pouring out of the heart.  Save this for your time with like-minded buddies and other friends.

No sexting, multiple texting, or massive email exchanges.  Each one gives the lead to more, and that leads to a falling off of the friendship cliff.

Respect boundaries, have impeccable manners and general good behavior that will keep things friendly.

No holding of hands, touching or other intimate behavior between friends.

No names.  When discussing recent sexual conquests do not use names or identifying things.

No sexual inuendos, small talk or references to be exchanged or referred to in conversation, both in person or online.  Using any type of sexual or “come on” type language is just a recipe for trouble, with a capital T.  Afterall , it ‘s supposedly “friendship” you are after, not a relationship or sexual escapade, right?

If sexual tension evolves, deal with it head on, do not sweep it under the proverbial rug.  Get it out in the open, discuss it and solve it.  Maybe you are not meant to be friends…but are you meant to be more? If you can’t put the tension aside then it’s time to either end it or ask her out properly…you decide and let those chips fall where they may.  But remember, if she never trusts you when you say “she’s just my friend” after you get together, it’s exactly how you two met…historically speaking.  History says a lot.  She won’t want you having other “friends” of the opposite label, i.e. Butches having Femme friends and visa versa.

No drunk calls, texts or emails…never, ever a good thing.  If you are thinking of your Butch or Femme “friend” when you are drunk then it’s NOT a friendship in your head, it’s turning into something much more dangerous…the desire for a relationship.

Warning signs that it’s more than a friendship.

You start to dress more “her style”, listening to what she likes in her Butch or Femme, you start to look at your wardrobe and think of what “she” would like to see you wear, not what you like.  Never change yourself for someone, especially a “friend”.

You stay up late at night waiting by your computer for her to get home so you can chat or email with her.  This is a definite sign that it’s getting beyond friendship in your head.

Buying expensive gifts…you don’t do this for other friends, so if you find yourself looking at diamonds suddenly and thinking of buying one for her…it’s gone way beyond friends in your head.

Suddenly changing your other friends, because she doesn’t care for this one or thinks that one is too much of an influence on you.  A friend will never ask or suggest that you lose another friend just so you can be “her” friend. A true friend will encourage you to have other friends, and may even want to hang out with you and them.

Isolating…if you find you are staying home more, waiting for her calls, emails or texts then you are not being friendly, you are being stupid.

Jealousy…if you or she starts telling the other who they can and cannot hang with, communicate with or who they should and should not sleep with, or what to do with their hair, nails, brows, etc…then it’s obvious it’s not friendship, it’s a connection going deeper.

Drop off friends.

Signs that a friend has decided that you are too much work, or that she’s feeling pressured and maybe things need to frost over a bit between you before it goes somewhere other than friendship….

She becomes a bit distant, has to work late, has prior obligations and cant’ hang with you.

Phone calls become rare to non-existant.  Your calls go unanswered or to voice mail.

Texts and emails start to trail off, not so many anymore.  And those that do come are short and to the point. Then she finally stops altogether.

Friends with Benefits.

Never a good idea in my humble opinion.  Tried it and failed miserably.  And I find that it’s always a friendship killer because once you go to the intimacy level, everything changes. You may think you are still friends, but you are now more than friends, but less than lovers.  The whole dynamic is different, strained and usually not very much fun.  One of you thinks it’s friends, the other has built a house and put up a picket fence in their mind.  Watch out for this one; tread carefully.

So those are my thoughts and ideas on Butch-Femme friendship.  I do have a few very sweet and good Femme friends.  I adore every one of them, but I also keep them at a distance socially,  out of respect for them, their Butches and for myself.  I want to be a good friend, and sexual fantasy about a Femme friend would not make me a good Butch…it might make me typical to some, but not good!

Dear Readers…

Dear Readers,

Thanks for stopping by and reading my crazy rants and raves.  You are going to see quite a few new posts, some of old writings that I have in my collection, as well as some new stuff that I am doing as I am working through a project to collect most of my presentable pieces all in one place.

I write about many things, most of all my personal perspectives and opinions of love, life, various incidents, troubles and the human condition.  While most of it is true, some are variations of skewed truth; yet all are my original writings. Some of which I can bear witness to and some I can only theoretically speculate about.  Bottom line is that I love to write, and have much passion for the written word as it has represented man’s journeys through time and history.  My stories are of my own time; my own history.

Please enjoy reading!  I invite you each to leave comment, criticism, and opposing arguments as needed!

~MainelyButch

Who God Intended Me to Be

I personally have no idea what it’s like to be any other way than Butch lesbian.  I know some people “come out” later in life and “figure out” they are LGBT…or that they are Butch or Femme,  a tweener, a granola, queer, or __________(fill in the blank with your favorite identity marker or label).  For me it’s just something I have always known inside of my skin and brain..  How does this kind of deep, from the beginning kind of knowing make me different?  Do we behave, in some way differently, as we come into our own in different ways as people; as lesbians – and lovers of women?

I have to wonder what it’s like to think you are straight, and then to decide you are gay/lesbian at some later point in life.…I can’t fathom that kind of thought pattern; of something that I feel that I was born with, that was ingrained into my DNA from birth.  I’m not speaking about those who knew but hid the fact from themselves and others, but about those who have had honest “awakenings” to the idea or fact that they were attracted not to the opposite sex, but to the same sex. Some call themselves late bloomers, or out laters.  I was just born this way, grew up a lesbian and knew no other way.

The Butch-Femme world is a whole other story.  I would imagine that it could be a hard world to “break in to” for someone who does not “get” the dynamic right from the get-go.  I’ve had women approach me and utter those strange words “I am not sure if I am Femme or not, but I like Butches”…and I have to wonder; wonder what thought bring those words to their mouths. Then come the “I want to learn” or “teach me” words that petrify just about any Butch I know.  Certainly does me that’s for sure.  Those words do not exude any kind of confidence or knowing of the Butch-Femme dance.

So loving women is loving women, but the Butch-Femme dynamic plays out so very differently than the standard granola style of loving women.  It’s just a different world. It’s a different existence and way of being altogether; it’s a lifestyle and a love-style.  I hear women say “I just love women”.  Well I do as well, but romantically I am only attracted to Femme women. That’s just how it is for me.

Ok, you say, so what is a Femme woman? What constitutes the definition of a Femme?

Here is my personal perception, whic, I am sure varies slightly from Butch perspective to Butch perspective, but this is how I see it for the biggest part:

A Femme is the gentler of the two in the Butch-Femme; she is the more effeminate, exhibiting much more comfort with her own femininity and all things feminine in her world.  Because of her surrounding her own self with that, she desires contrast in the romantic realm, someone to perhaps rough out the edges, so that they are not so femininely smooth as they are when she is alone.   While a Butch can be gentle she also brings that certain bravado of roughness that is necessary for a Femme to feel…well, Femme!

A Femme is much more in touch with her emotional side, not afraid to show emotion or deal with it in any way.  She will speak her mind, with no uncertainty and no hesitation.  She knows what she wants and how to get it.  Her self-confidence is a breath of fresh air, in the eyes of this Butch.

A Femme is sexy; exuding sexy all the time. yet, she easily hides in the crowd, appearing to blend in with the psuedo-normalcy of her world’s hetero sisters.  Never is her heel wearing, purse toting, skirt swishing ass questioned when she enters a gendered space, such as the ladies room or a dressing room.  She walks always and anywhere with an inner – but evident – confidence, poise and attitude that only a Femme can display.

A Femme knows fairly well where she can and cannot go with her Butch in the bedroom.  Every Butch being unique, she somehow knows and understands the boundaries and maneuvers the minefields of her lover’s body carefully, as only a Femme can do with a Butch.  She’s known these moves all of her life, as only a Femme does, and she brings a comfort and relaxation to her Butch that only she can bring.  Butches who try to be with others (non-Femme identified lesbians) sometimes find themselves in those very uncomfortable situations of having to “explain” their bodies and desires, something no Butch likes to verbalize ever…and soon those situations go awry; never really satisfying either party as much as the Butch Femme dynamic can do for those involved.

A Femme knows what her primary place is in the home; that starting and operating the chainsaw is not her job.  She knows what her Butch likes, what she hates and those things that do not matter either way.  She’s not afraid to pump her own gas, but when her Butch is present she knows better than to even get out of the car to try.  She knows that asking her Butch to do laundry comes with a disclaimer that things may be shrunken or discolored and that risk is real. Yes, we each know our strengths and our places amoungst the affray of life.

A Femme gets her way by allowing her Butch to always be seen as the strong Butch that she is, for by doing that her happiness is dynamically secured.  The way a Femme recognizes the masculine and the non-masculine in a Butch is a skill she seems to be born with, and that comes as second nature to her from the very beginning of the understanding her own Femme existence.

Some say this is mimicking of a hetero relationship.  I say it is not.  It is the dynamic that we are comfortable with, the feminine and the masculine – in two women – combined to meet each individual party’s needs, expectations and compatibilities.  It emphasizes the strengths of the Femme and the honor of the Butch in ways that only they can understand; that only a Butch-Femme couple can really fathom in their world.

I don’t ask for complete understanding of my lifestyle.  Only that people allow me to live my way and not try to criticize me for being exactly who God intended me to be.  And also to allow my Femme to do the very same thing – be her own woman.  She’s comfortable in her own skin, I am not comfortable in mine.  Without her I am naked and laid vulnerable to the cruelty of the world.  With her by my side I am protected, as is she by me.  I make her visible, she makes me secure in myself.   Perhaps in that simple sentence is the answer to why anyone is in any relationship, we make each other happy and secure.  Love does that.  All love; any love

Rock on.