It's Cool They Say. I Wish I Could They Say

I killed my sister last night. It wasn't planned, but I knew eventually it was going to happen. She asked me to meet her somewhere for something. It was strange since we have had no contact since my mother died 13 years ago. I showed up and we met basically at the end of an alley. I am flanked by two buildings and only one way out . . . Fuck me. As soon as she sees me she makes a hand motion and two of her daughters, my nieces, come out of nowhere. My sister begins to berate me. I feel really small. I am wont to retreat; to slink back with my esteem and not berate myself for coming here in the first place. I look behind me. I'm fucked. My nieces begin to pummel me of course. I am a tiny person. I can only defend myself to a certain degree since I am outweighed and outnumbered. I am on the ground thinking about what I have on me and realize I have pepper spray. They are enjoying this too much. They are giving me way too much time on the ground to think. I rise to my feet and spray the idiot closest to me in the eyes. I actually thought for a second if she had asthma and I sprayed her again. She goes backwards blindly as I spray her sister. At this point it is just me and my big sister. I throw the can of pepper spray to the ground and I pounce on her. I straddle her and I pound her head into the ground. I pound and I pound and I don't remember if I am saying anything. Am I explaining to her what I am about to do? Am I grunting? All I know is that I am slamming her head into the ground and I can't stop. But I do. There is no more head to pulverize. I stop. I stand up and fall to my knees shaking. I am crying an uncontrollable cry. I am not crying because I killed her. I am crying because of how it feels to kill someone with your bare hands. That out of body, auto-pilot feeling that you are not yourself. I am crying because I was so full of hatred for my sister. This hatred was born of hatred. This hatred was born of abuse and I burned all of that hatred out of my body with every pound of her head on the ground. Every sound and splatter brought relief. It is finally over.

When I woke up I was shaking. And I needed a hug. The thing that people don't realize about lucid dreaming is it isn't a dream for me until I wake up. When I wake up, I am tired from all of the running and falling and slamming of heads into the ground as it were. This morning my arms were tired and my eyes hurt. It is scary as well. I am not only a lucid dreamer, but I can control my dreams. I could have easily gotten out of the dream once I realized it was an ambush. Sometimes I'll do this with myself. I want to see what my brain will come up with as if I am learning more about myself. I knew I would kill my sister. It was the only way out of that situation. But I guess what I expected out of the dream was not the actual feeling of killing someone with my bare hands. Whatever it is I expected, I did not get. Lucid dreaming is a curse and nothing to be envied. Look at me. I'm killing my sister and exhausted all day. It's not fun kids.

Rules of Entanglement

I created a list of dating rules years ago. This list has served me well. When Jess decided to dive into the dating pool a few years ago, I made sure to share this invaluable resource. She clearly took the rules to heart. Case in point – I found out only yesterday that Jess’s favorite book is Catcher in the Rye. If I knew this three years ago, we wouldn’t be friends today. For me, dating is an exercise in transferring the “I want to fuck you” energy into “I want to do more than fuck you” energy. By that standard, your favorite book should never come up on date one or two, or even eight for that matter.

Commiserating with Jess about my last few dates (horrible!) prompted us to write down, formally, my rules of dating – to be used by all women kind. We want women to get out of their own way and let dating be fun again. Full disclosure, we are lesbians and we do consider ourselves experts on the Hows and Whys of women and dating (we are experts on any topic we discuss, but that’s for another post). These simple guidelines can and should be used by women of all orientations. It would make life a lot easier for the rest of us.

Let’s begin, shall we?

1. Getting to The First Date
Women like to play coy. That's not demeaning or misogynistic. It is a reality and lesbians are some of the biggest offenders. Women will lead you on a trail driven by pseudo aggressiveness and copious amounts of alcohol and wait for you to do the "heavy" lifting. Once a couple of rounds have been ordered, the waiting begins. This is where we drop the ball ladies. If you meet someone and you are PHYSICALLY attracted to them, ask them out. Do not wait for them to ask you. Like most guys, I will miss the signals that you are trying to send out that you want to see me again. It is just that simple. The person doesn't have to be your soul mate. If you like what you see, don't pass up an opportunity to ask to see it again.

2. THE First Date
The first date should be completely casual. Not too early and not too late. It should be a one on one opportunity for you to talk about nothing. That's right ladies. Nothing. On date one I don't know you. If your attire is clean and you are remotely amusing, date one should lead to date two 100% of the time. On my most recent “first date”, the chick I was entertaining acted as though we were competing for the same job. It was not fun. I was completely physically attracted to her, but as I sat there trying to mull over whether I wanted to see her again she kept dropping nuggets and nuggets of information that was making my second date decision pretty easy. She hates her dad. Why do I know this? At the end of the first date I want to be able to say "Sweet, we both love RuPaul's Drag Race" not "Shit, we both hate our dad". Good clean fun. That's what a first date should be all about.

3. The Marathon Date
No first date, or subsequent date for that matter, should last 12 hours. You do no need to spend an inordinate amount of time with someone you just met. Your date may regale you with exciting stories of her time in the Peace Corps or his years spent summering in Cape Cod. You may find this banter interesting, intelligent, introspective – insert I word here. STOP. There is plenty of time on date 2, 3, 4 5, 6, and even 7 to learn more about your potential mate, to build intimacy and comfort. A marathon date does nothing but give you a false sense of closeness, which can lead to #9, sans testing (YIKES!).

4. The Thirty Year Old Virgin
For all intents and purposes, when you begin to date someone new, you are a virgin. Not literally. No one wants to date an old virgin, but in the figurative sense you have no exes. I don't even know when you should ever hear about an ex. Seriously. It is hard to grasp who you are while you are telling me about people I have never met. Inevitably, I will sit there trying to figure out why they dumped you. There are subtle ways you can go about never talking about your exes. Some people have a tendency to fall into the trap of confusing "What's your type?" with "Tell me about your ex". To answer the former I generally say that I have no type. As for the latter, I say I have dated humans in the past.

5. I'm O+ and You?
I have a very strict two date mental illness declaration policy. By the second date I should know if you have been diagnosed with ANY and all mental illnesses. This also goes for transitioning gender and STDs. I have a couple of things you will need to know before anything gets serious. The only declaration on date one is that I'm gluten free. On date one, you will notice I have OCD, I will admit it and I will, for the rest of the date, stifle most of my tendencies. Full blown OCD comes date two. On date two, I need the option of saying I can handle your bipolar disorder since I already like you. Knowing this on date one will most likely not result in date two.

6. With Friends Like These
I was hanging out with a guy a couple of years back. I have known this guy most of my life. I was invited by a different friend to meet up at a bar and watch the NBA playoffs. I asked the guy if he wanted to go. That was a mistake. As soon as I showed up, my friend was giving me the tenth degree: Who was the guy? Why was I with a guy? I'm gay. What the fuck am I doing with a guy? I said relax, just watch the game. And I was relaxed until the guy I brought along decided to claim his territory and inform me we were dating. So…this was entirely my fault. I raised the stakes. Because I let this guy around my friends, he felt the need to amp it up a bit by saying something stupid like he and my gay ass were in a relationship. This anecdote was shared for your benefit to emphasize that the later you introduce your new love to your friends, the better. My last date was talking about her birthday plans with her bff and I asked about it because I genuinely wanted to see if I could hook them up with a nice place. She thought that was me begging for an invite. I said "Oh, I don't want to go. You guys have fun". She got mad. You should never be too eager to introduce someone to your friend. A week later you will have to explain why you can't bear to hear their name uttered. Take your time. Get to know the person and see if they are worth introducing to your chosen family and then your actual family.

7. Pretty lady want a cocktail?
Here is where the waters get murky. We’ve argued over this rule and come to no compromise. Y’A insists there be a one drink max during a date. She has consistently refused to follow her own advice. Jess feels that as an adult, she can mind her own drinking and read the situation to see what seems appropriate.

Y’A would like to interject and clarify: “Jess thinks a pitcher of Sangria equates one drink. I have done this. All it does is make me thirsty for real alcohol. If you are driving, one drink. Far from home, one drink. Anywhere in Brooklyn, one drink. Trust me.”   

Bottom line – don’t get shitfaced on the first date. Be your shiny new penny self until you receive some confirmation that this person genuinely likes you, then peel back the layers a bit and buy the pretty lady a cocktail.

8. NO SEX
Do not have sex on the first date. How about keeping it in your pants for the second date, too? Str8, Gay, Queer, Genderful – we’ve all made the same mistake and paid dearly for it later. After spending the equivalent of a nurse’s ER shift together, you may feel that you know this person, have made a judgment of character in the positive, and there is no reason to wait any longer to seal the deal. I implore you – wait! Just because he’s good with dogs and volunteers for a No Kill Shelter does not mean he isn’t over his ex gf and experimenting with some strange to see if he can get over her. (Lesbians, just fucking stop. Leave the U-Haul on the rental lot and calm down.)   

9. Sex

Now that we have ruled out sex, let's talk about sex. Whenever you decide to do the deed, you need to have a conversation or two before you are caught in an awkward situation. I am not going to waste time saying get tested for STDs. You know what to do at this point and if you don't know to get tested before sex, then I won't be having any sexy times with you. What I am talking about is what KIND of sex you are in to. I don't want to be revved up and all excited and then I find out you are a power bottom. What am I going to do with that? If you like spanking, cool. If you like biting, that’s even better. Full on humiliation, remember I’m a feminist. I just want to know if I need a strength and conditioning coach beforehand. In the gay community, there are tops, bottoms, verse, and switch - I don't get into any of that, which makes it all the more important to have that pre-coitus conversation. Allow me to illustrate = without this convo some chick could show up at my house with an uninvited duffel bag full of toys, leaving us both limp, blue, and floating in an ice bath. I think you get the point. 

10. Remember, this is supposed to be fun.

I Have Had It

I have decided to try something new and talk to women that actually like me or at least admit that they like me. I would 110% of the time prefer to be by myself. My friends say this is unhealthy so I literally stick my neck out there once a year to prove them wrong. Dating in NY sucks. In just a couple of encounters with one girl, I have endured ten personalities; clear frustration; demeaning behavior and why? So I can say I did it? Well I did and where does that get me? At some point, our society will have to accept that some people don't belong with other people. We are slowly accepting the reality that some people don't want to get married. I am willing to stand up and proudly admit that not only do I not want to get married, I also don't want to be coupled up. It is not that I am adverse to compromise. I am charming and personable and talkative and a great listener and I remember everything you say and I don't want to get married and I don't want to share my space and I cook every single day and I don't want to cook for you and I am the abnormal One. I meet a woman who wants to get married and that seems to be her only shining light. She hates kids. She hates life it seems and she definitely hates me. How does one navigate the world looking for a mate with such hate in their heart? We have all been wronged. We all hurt. We also know to put on our best clothes; take an extra long shower; smile brighter on a first date. We know if that new person wants to see us after, we have to somehow keep it going. We all have to express a little and reveal less. We have to keep them coming. We have to play the game. Without these mating rituals, where would we be? Some people think reciting their resume is enough. What I say to that is at some point I will stop thinking with my dick. You have to play the game to win at love. I have no gamesmanship, but I convince people anyway. Those who, in their thirties, haven't figured out who they are and how they relate to others keep me in my woman cave with wine, tequila and beer thanking God I haven't succumb to the pressure of the coupled.

. . .And In This Corner

I went on a first date last night. Admittedly, I met this chick in a dark bar and I have really bad eyesight. I was just hopeful that when she showed up, I didn't have a beer goggle situation. Originally, we were supposed to meet up Friday afternoon for a late lunch (read early dinner date). Originally, originally, I had suggested having lunch together in a casual and not-at-all-date-like-setting sometime during the week. Here’s the thing. I can’t eat shit. No gluten, milk, soy, eggs, nuts…you name it and I’m pretty sure I can’t eat it. I spent all week stressing out about trying to find a restaurant that fit my non-committal vibe and also served food I could eat. No easy feat, even in New York fucking City. I wanted to avoid a gluten-free place cause, let’s be honest, that just plain sucks. So I found a place and by the time I had it all figured out, she rescheduled. Fine. Saturday night dinner date it is. I gave up all control and let her pick the place with the soft instructions of no Italian and no Asian.

When she showed up she was still pretty. She then proceeded to spend 30 minutes making fun on my gluten-free ass. Within the first 5 minutes I was told I was not ‘date material’ because I don’t eat Italian food (which, unless GLUTEN-FREE, would kill me!!) and because I don’t eat/like cheese (still made out of milk last time I checked). If we had gone to the restaurant that I had stressed to find for our originally scheduled casual lunch soiree and she had acted like the ass she ended up being, I would have completely lost my shit. At this point I’m about half an hour into this ridiculousness and decide I’m in it for the story from here on out. I am a curious person with thick skin. It’ll be fun and logged for research.

I'm a lover not a fighter. I enjoy a hefty serving of spirited debate. My friends and I are most often debating sports, Harry Potter, and unfortunately, politics. I don't like fighting with girls. Girls I like. Girls I want to date. I see no need to argue.  By this standard, this date is a fight…of the cock or sword variety. Typically on a first date, I leave my cock and my sword at home. This gal was double fisted and raring to go. She gave me her ENTIRE resume. I feel like I should have taken notes in case I meet someone that wants to hire an over-educated know-it-all. She was really smart, which is always my thing. It was hard to get off on the smart when it was heavily shrouded in her bitter and jaded anti-pregnancy, anti-breast feeding, and anti-children diatribe. I LOVE children. And I said so kind of just to shut her up, to which her response was a pedophile joke. I shit you not. ALL of this happened on a first date. A pedophile joke that was really painful and I had to literally beg her not to keep going with it.

To add to the growing list of ‘things this chick hates’ she also hates my neighborhood. I hate my neighborhood, too. Somehow, without actually living there, she hates it more than I do. It was a sticking point throughout the entire date. I hate Brooklyn. I also hate all of the Bronx. That's because I'm from Queens and people from Queens hate everywhere except Queens. That is the sole reason I still haven't adjusted to living in Brooklyn for the last 12 years. I didn't need to talk about my hatred of Brooklyn, nor did I bring it up, but apparently this topic quite intrigued her. What’s worse, she interlaced her hate expression with a completely inappropriate bad sex story. ON OUR FIRST DATE! The bad sex girl lives in my neighborhood. She complained, quite accurately, about every piece of shit detail that I deal with on a daily basis living in my neighborhood during her story of going to this chick's house to get laid. I interrupted and said "that poor girl". She said "why that poor girl?" (Disclaimer: I generally say what's on my mind. Usually, people like the fresh and frank way I speak. Jess told me not to be normal Y'A on this date. I was so fucking muted I had to go to the bathroom and look myself in the mirror to remind myself of the shit talker I usually am. This spontaneous utterance was the first sign of true me.) As I thought about how I would answer this, I reminded myself that I don't like to argue with girls. Even her. A chick I certainly did not like at this point. So I come back quickly with "you cast aspersions on a girl because of where she lives." Nice save.

I understand first dates are nerve racking. You don't want to seem anxious or nervous and telling yourself not to be anxious causes anxiety. I stress about details and things like that because of my mild, barely noticeable, OCD. This girl was on another planet. Having an agenda on a first date is very common. Her agenda was to let everyone in the restaurant know she had the biggest dick. Unfortunately, she ended up just being a big dick. When she cracked a joke about me not coming home with her I said "I thought we established that 5 minutes into the date." Not a trace of sarcasm or humor. I think she got it. So I walked her to her car and she is doing her big dick walk and big dick talk and I told her she is just too competitive. She chuckled. I thought I was competitive. I will kick your ass in Wii Tennis guaranteed. This chick was on a completely different level. It’s called not fun.

As I got on the train I mused to myself about how this chick should apologize, but knew she definitely wouldn’t. Imagine my shock when I got a half-assed non-apology apology for her assholishness (my word not hers). She blamed it on fatigue and thanked me for hanging. I responded ‘Thanks and sleep well’, to which she got pissy. I am the Queen of apologizing by not apologizing. It is a really bad trait. I could smell this shit a mile away. How was I supposed to react? As I sit in my shitty apartment in my shitty neighborhood drinking a cold gluten free beer that's actually good (despite her making fun of it viciously), I had to give myself credit for being a fucking saint throughout this whole ordeal.

Know When To Say When

"Hi I have OCD and food allergies. Would you like to go on a date?"

"Sure"

"Great. Let's go a week from now. I'll OCD the hell out of the plans. It's going to be perfect [the way God intended it to be]"

Then it happens. Not the date, but she asked to reschedule. At this point I would rather her cancel entirely. Rescheduling just starts the OCD clock all over again. I'm not anxious, but my OCD is. My OCD is not quite sure I will be able to plan whatever it is we are now going to do on no notice. So, I have decided to lay caution to the wind and not think about it at all. I'm going to try to do this date thing like the rest of you people. By the seat of my pants. I must give her major kudos for letting me know 24 hours in advance though... 

The moment you know you can't or don't want to make the date, inform the other person immediately. This might be the first sign that you are barking up the wrong tree. I once had a girl who shall remain nameless [EE] who would invite me to any and everything. I didn't even know these were dates that I was saying no to until Jess told me. She wasn't getting it. Not only was I the wrong tree, she would tell me I'm the wrong tree repeatedly. I didn't get it. I chalked it up to schizophrenia and cut her off.

My friend suffers the same daft inability to see real life. By not taking the hint, he goes around being a door mat. The weirdest thing is he is a HE. I didn't think guys had these problems. He meets these guys, sets up dates and they consistently cancel. He then hounds these guys to reschedule with bated breath. I feel bad for him. Why? Because he calls me close to tears when these guys consistently bail on him and I have to say "He's just not that into you".

So where will I go with this chick whenever she wants to actually go out? I have absolutely no idea. That is pretty refreshing. How long will this new found freedom for my brain last? I have no idea. I'm willing to bet it will last up until the minute she texts me again. In the meantime, I will take myself on a date today. I'm never late and I'm easy breezy. Clearly.

My Ten Commandments

10. I promise never to be compelled to take a selfie in the bathroom of my local Outback Steakhouse (or any public restroom).

9. I can’t wear makeup and if I could, I wouldn't, because all natural is hot and no matter how many times I hear I would look pretty with whatever, I’m not convinced. And I like imperfect teeth. Not meth mouth, just teeth that have character.

8. Never judge a book by its cover. I like women. Strong women. Smart women. Short haired women. Athletic women. OPINIONATED women. I don’t care how you dress. Have something to say and we can be friends. Gender expression is not sexuality. Just love.

7. I like to bite… ;)

6. Thou shalt not admit to liking Miley Cyrus. Rihanna is OK because of the, ummm, you know, artistic value of her, errr, videos and the message she is trying to convey. Errrr, yeah, so again no Miley Cyrus.

5. I’m a gay boy trapped in a lesbian’s body. I can’t explain it, but I enjoy the hell out of it.

4. Cleanliness is next to godliness. And I don’t believe in the traditional god, just the god of clean ass. So worship in the shower altar twice a day.

3. I promise no matter how drunk I get, I will never talk about my ex.

2. I do not believe in monogamy. The plus is I never cheat. The minus is I never lie. The bonus is a completely stress free relationship.

1. I will never marry. I know what I would like to wear. I know how I would have my wedding. I envision this all at gunpoint. I believe in love. Soul crushing, all encompassing love. I don’t believe legally sanctioned love makes it sparkle any more than it already does. Love free, live free, fuck marriage.

I'm Off The Sex

I'm officially off the sex. Well technically, you have to be on the sex to get off the sex. So technically speaking. sex is no longer on the table in the future, but like I said I wasn't previously offering it up as a main course on said table. So more accurately, I give up. I know my problem. I haven't dated in so long, I really don't understand the rules anymore. So I'm on the train reading my tablet today and people board what must have been 42nd st. I'm reading my tablet doing the introverted thing. Someone boards the train and stands in front of me. Let me be specific. This person, crotch first, is adjusting their position in front of me. I'm not paying attention. Adjust. Adjust. The train is not crowded enough for all of this. One more adjustment and the shoes of the person touch my bag. Enough already. I put my tablet in my bag and look squarely at the crotch positioned inches away from my face. I look up. I look up and down. Good GOD the hot dyke who clearly wanted to get my attention whose crotch stood before me was hot. Cute as hell. Black pants with a brown belt. Brown oxford shoes with turquoise shoe strings. Grey button down with the sleeves rolled up to the mid forearm. This chick was very fucking  cute. So what the hell was all of that primal bullshit going on before I actually looked at her? I personally like to keep my crotch as far away from everyone while on the train. I think it is rude. So some chick comes on the train does all of this bullshit to get my attention and says not one word to me. It doesn't make sense. And this is the reason why I am done. I haven't dated in so long, that I have no patience for the games and I don't get the rules. I'm more of a text me 4 days before you want to hang out kind of girl. So when girls do this and they do do this, I have no idea how to react. Is this the mating call of the modern lesbian? The kindergarten notice me notice me sort of way. If hot crotch would have said anything to me, I would have stayed on the train instead of savoring her crotch for one stop.