BULLDYKE ON THE LOOSE
Don’t burn me at the stake just yet. I’ll say much worse stuff in a bit.
Much, much mo’ bad.
Hear me out.
I’m sure it’s an insecurity thing! I’m sure it’s got something to do with overcompensation. I’m sure I wasn’t loved enough as a kid blah blah yes all of it. No doubt about any of it. Who among us, doesn’t need to have some sort of pick-me-up to get through the day?
I’ve been saying no to pick-me-up’s for as long as I can remember. My family was very “sober” about a lot of things. Things like politics, careers, history, sports, and sexuality were for men, so we never talked about anything other than housework type things and how to raise kids. I don’t care much to talk about it, don’t remember much of it. What I will say is, nowadays, all this just makes me want to go on a huge bender about fucking everything.
1. The status of being bent for more than a day. Usually results in loss of memory, money, strange tattoos, and other things you’ll have a hell of a time explaining.
I went on a sex bender. Alcohol bender. Pot bender. Exercise bender. Food bender. Diet bender. I’ve been on my fair share of benders. Point is, don’t shelter your kids. Jesus hates it when you shelter your kids.
Now that I’ve been through all the benders, I can see that I’ve just got some shit to deal with. Everyone has shit to deal with, but not everyone is forced to confront their shit in their teens. Queer people are often forced to be more independent, more self sufficient, and consequently way more stressed out earlier in life. I certainly was, as a result of my queerness.
In order to understand why any of this happened, or why any of it continues to happen, I’ve had to come up with ways to pick myself up. Mind you, I can’t really drink. It makes my butt go numb. Not as fun or as playful as it sounds. I do love marijuana, admittedly. When I smoke weed, I imagine I’m eating mother nature’s bush. How could such a beautiful thing be bad? Why make our relationship unnecessarily taboo?
Another way I’ve found to pick myself up is even more taboo.
Sometimes, I reflect on heteronormative ideals, and feel a bit haughty about the things I don’t have to deal with.
- I don’t have to deal with a partner who doesn’t clean or help out around the house.
*cue haughty laugher*
- I ALWAYS come during sex, unless I don’t feel like it, because my consent is ALWAYS respected
*cue maniacally insensitive godawful shame-filled laugh-shuffle*
- I don’t have to give birth unless I want to
*more insensitive garbage-person laughter time*
- My partner respects, supports, and promotes my career(s?)
*smug, uproarious cheerful and laughter*
Here’s the problem–I abhore pity. I despise contempt!! Most of all, I hate hypocrites. I catch a glimpse of this version of myself in my mind’s eye, and I look away.
Of course nobody’s perfect, and queer relationships have their fair share of bullshit to deal with. ALL RELATIONSHIPS are complicated and full of obstacles, platonic or romantic or what have you. I was in a very shitty queer relationship; women are fully capable abusers, and being a lesbian is not a lifehack!
But boi, doesn’t it feel like it sometimes? I tell you wHuT.
Realizing that social rules and gender constructs are nonsense restraints, and having the conviction to live outside of them–very sexy levels of self awareness. Also, dangerously high potential for complexes.
What is the point of being so targeted, so isolated, and so other, if it doesn’t result in a deeper perspective? A higher perspective? Now I’m sounding like one of those jackasses. I think that’s what I love about older queers. Their perspective is much less egotistical.
And at WHAT POINT do we have to admit that lesbian sex is the most incredible, luxurious, variable and expressive version of sex? Right, that doesn’t actually mean anything and it’s very biased of me to say. MMmmhmmm ok yes I “can’t say this for certain”. Ahahh…
I identify with Icarus; soaring fast and high, straight into the sun. I wouldn’t even be discouraged, washing up in a heap on the beach. I lay in the sand, soak up some sun, then: hop back up, put the bones back in my legs, and try to figure out a stronger glue formula with more heat resistance. I’m a very persistent idealist. Others, might call me an idiot.
This mentality lends itself well to being a bit of a queer supremacist. So shoot me, I think that queer people are more interesting and unique than heteronormative people. Queer, in this way I suppose, means everyone non-conforming to society. I guess that includes all fringe groups. I’m not sure how I feel about that, but I also just don’t feel like making distinctions. I hate it when I’m excluded in other’s distinctions, but I also hate nazis. What’s a them to do about it?
Is this they a bad they? Am a them a they a we?
If an angry queer screams bullshit in a forest, and uses the same metaphor at the end of every post, does anyone get annoyed by it?