A tarnished star, and the rule of thumb...

In the first few minutes of the movie Boondock Saints there is a scene where a woman firmly explains the history of the phrase "rule of thumb". The scene - awesome, the movie - amazing, My reason for bringing it up? The woman played by Dot Marie Jones (Google her) has a tattoo that says "Untouched by man." The first time I saw this I was 19 maybe 20 and had no idea there was more out there than what you learn in school or among childhood friends. Years later I know bath houses really do exist, neither black nor white likes a bi-racial truck drivin girl in the state of Mississippi and there is far more to the world than this tiny sliver of life here in Connecticut or anything we will ever learn by stayin in one place too long. Somewhere in my travels I learned there was significance to that scene, a relevance that goes unnoticed, and maybe it's only me that makes the connection but I somehow doubt it and now you'll think of this when you see it wether you agree or not.
Fun Fact: A Gold star lesbian is a lesbian who has never had sex with a man - untouched by man - biblically.

Last night in a room filled with a majority of trendy, modern day, lesbian seagulls, I realized how little I fit. Don't get me wrong, I'm fucking awesome in my own tarnished chrome kind of way but much like I was never black enough for the black kids as a kid, I'm not sure I will ever be lez enough for the lesbians as an adult. One might attribute that to the approximately 1/5 female to male partner ratio but only friends know the specifics on those statistics, so, really it must be me right? Even so, in a room with shiny gold stars its intimidating to be the not so shiny one, but thats life isn't it? No ones really that fuckin shiny anyways.

I knew at an early age I liked both girls and boys, I knew at a later age that sometimes, sometimes we do what is easy rather than what honestly feels good or right and I know now that my attractions to both has little to do with physical form and everything to do with personality and possibility. I don't know that I've ever really looked at people as their parts but more as the sparkle in their eyes and the heart that fuels them. I see potential and I see something indescribably amazing in a handful of people and personality types and I could get lost in that, like really lost in that. This kind of lost leaves no space for registering what sexual parts a person has, the time wasted evaluating that is about 6 months and it gets messy. The point is lately more and more I can see how for me, its not what I see that turns me on, but who I see and if I am really honest with myself , fuck the details.

In a room full of people lastnight three people knew my name when I left, the 2 folk lovin, Falcon Ridge goin, hippie dudes with kids my age (Thanks for the beer guys!) and Chris Pureka. While if she remembers it the next time I see her I will be amazed and even more ridiculous over her, I don't imagine she's writing love songs about meeting me. The thing is I'm still not quite sure how I managed to not lose my mind. With the simple act of buying a tshirt turning into a discussion with someone else in front of the aformentioned folk singer about how great my boobs would look in said tshirt and then going back later to get a postcard for my collection only to find that she remembered my name. There is something about the way someone your attracted to says your name. There's this millisecond that feels like forever in the best way where you stop, breathe and tell yourself not to act a fool. It's possible this only happens to me but I'm fairly certain everyone has something that triggers the stop, breathe, don't act a fool reaction when done by someone they're into. For me its hearing my name come out of their mouth, that and watching them wash dishes. Don't laugh at me, to see someone I want (-biblically -) wash my dishes, it's like Halloween, Mardi Gras, New years and my 21st Birthday all combined into one really fuckin awesome 4th of July firework show ~ in my lady parts. I digress...

What I'm getting at here, I'm not even sure I have a clue anymore. I guess what it is, is that all the unladylike behavior thats created some of my best stories from the bedroom don't amount to but maybe two sexual situations where I can say I felt truly right and honestly beautiful. (The ratio on that is one to one, female to male for anyone workin the math on this.) I can count those moments, add the times someone has made me feel lost in that good way, and still have somewhere between 3 and 5 fingers left out of 10. As I grow so does my interest in feeling, that feeling, that way, for more than just a fleeting sexual moment. It's taken too long for me to accept that I don't have to choose a sexual preference, I simply have to recognize that maybe no one else can understand what it is that really turns me on about the people I'm attracted too. Those people being Butch of either male or female parts and if you need that explained by all means ask but there is just not enough room here to get into that statement in full. For space I will simply quote S. Bear Bergman "Butch is a noun, and an adjective, and a verb...", read the whole book, its amazing (and not too long).

Above and beyond sex at this strange stage in my life, I prefer the beauty of the verbally triggered orgasm and the intensity of knowing just how fast my heart is beating and hoping they have no idea, and then maybe hoping they do. I'd rather this than the sex with the lights out, hiding every detail of who we are. I want to see and be seen, I prefer the idea that maybe the person who makes me laugh and smile and calms me down with even just a small understanding of my awkwardness, might be someone who can wait to fuck me. A gentleman, a true Butch and worth the time it takes to find them. I am a Femme, I am a tarnished star and I might not be the lady you think I am but I'm ok with that. I'm wearing the tshirt now by the way and my tits look AMAZING in it, no bra! One of a million great stories of my adventures!

It was blind intuition that drew me to you, you were a miracle of sadness ~ Chris Pureka, Shipwreck