Hit Paus, then Play

Well then, it's been a few months... So what happened? I think I just started having too much sex and got overwhelmed by it all. I simply didn't know how to start the blogpost about my conference adventure at the end of April... in a convent of all places. (Pictured below: A convent, though not the one where I was clearly possessed by the ghosts of sexually frustrated, lesbian nuns and seduced by a fellow conference attendee.)

This blog has mainly been about my not having any sex and writing down my celibate ponderings, so after an Easter sex date, a first successful lesbian one-night stand, and then yet another one-night stand while away on a conference for work (that's three women within the scope of a month, who am I, Shane? Yeah, no, really not.) I was overwhelmed by the turn my life, and thus my blog, had taken. And also, I was a bit concerned that I might have used up all of my alotted sex and that I would now be facing a dry spell that would last for years and years to come. Though, that would normalize thing in the blogosphere for me.

See what months without blogging will do? It will leave you typing like a babbling idiot.

So, a quick recap of the sex life of the Anonymous Lesbian:

• April = Lots of sex
• May = Contently sans sex
• June = Another weekend sex date with Miss Sex

And speaking of Miss Sex, I found the perfect description of our relationship when reading Gloria Bigelow's blog on OurChart (you know, that website that was grossly over-advertised on a little lesbian show called "The L Word"). Miss Sex is my OTA, my Outta Town Ass. Gloria's description is spot on: "an OTA is essentially a three-day holiday — a mini relationship one visit at a time. You get all of the perks of a relationship — the romance, the sex, the cuddling and such — but with very little of the relationship trappings — the negotiation, the compromising or the 'let’s just turn in, I’m tired', or the constant needing to shave your legs." Well, spot on except for that last part of shaving your legs, I ain't shaving my legs for nobody's sake except my own if that mood should strike me!

This last weekend with Miss Sex involved musicals (watching the genious that is "The Rocky Horror Picture Show" and Doris Day in "Calamity Jane"), cotton candy, traumatizing my dog with loud and slightly rough sex, making it up to her with long walks, and me taking care of poor Miss Sex who happened to have the flu the whole time she was here... That didn't stop her from making the most of the visit though.

Five Signs of a Successful One-Night Stand

In celebration of my first successful one-night stand with a woman (yes, I will admit to have had one or two with guys, back when I was still doing that male thing) I thought I'd try to compile a list of criteria for what makes a one-night stand successful. This is the result:

1. It's someone you don't know. Sure, this might be a debatable point, but if I were to go home with a friend I've known for a while and have sex with her... I'm not sure what I would define it as, but it wouldn't quite be a one-night stand. In this case it was a complete stranger I met at the girl club (of course we were quickly able to establish which friends we had in common - our world is, after all, so very small), made out with one the dance floor and promptly brought home.

2. There is actual sex involved. This would seem quite obvious, if it weren't for encounters such as the one I had with Sleep Over Girl back in May of last year (the words "I'm not going to have sex with you tonight" still ring in my head from time to time). This encounter was hassle free. Sure, there was that moment of walking home together, talking about this and that. And then going into my apartment, and then into the bedroom, making small talk while both wonder "Okay, so how are we gonna do this then?". But once we got the kissing going there was no stopping us.

3. There is no crying or speaking of old relationships. Staying on the topic of Sleep Over Girl for a while... She (and Ex-Gaybor) had me worried that my bed was cursed for quite a while there, what with all the processing that was going on in it. Thankfully that curse seems to have been lifted.

4. There is no discussion of "where this is going". Now that is really fucking scary when you bring someone home with you expecting some sex with no strings attached and they start talking about how soon they can see you again or hinting towards that they're looking for more than just sex. That's where you have a me-shaped hole in the wall from where I ran out of the room screaming.

5. You don't call each other afterward. We did actually exchange phone numbers, me and this girl, let's call her Miss One-Night. But we did it in an extremely casual "maybe-we'll-bump-into-each-other-some-day" kind of way with no promise or even mention of us calling one another. It's been two weeks since our encounter and I'm thrilled that I haven't heard from her! When you do call each other... Well, that's something that might have started as a one-night stand but will quickly develop into something else.

So there you have it. A successful one-night stand, as defined by an Anonymous Lesbian. And here's to hoping there's many more in the future! Yes, I'm aiming for total slut status.

A Psychich Appointment and Easter Sex

I went to see a psychic last week. I had made the appointment six months in advance and waited impatiently for the day to arrive. Of course it ended up not quite living up to my expecations but it was a fun experience and I did get some interesting tidbits out of it. I'm a skeptic at heart though and I did see a lot of signs that she was doing a traditional "cold reading", or so it appeared to me. But then again she was so right on the spot about some things, things that were very specific and that she couldn't have guessed.

One thing that definitely doesn't work in her favor is that she didn't have gaydar. Yes, most people assume that I'm straight, but a damn psychich if anyone should be able to spot that I'm as queer as they come. She was way off, talking about "he's" and "boyfriends" and a man and children in the future. She did backtrack quickly though when I corrected her use of pronoun in reference to an ex of mine, telling me that when she says that she sees "a man and children" in my future she's seeing a family picture, but that it's not necessarily gender specific. Whatever.

In other news: I just got home from a visit with Miss Sex (whom the psychic did mention by name and the city she lives in) and the Easter sex was fabulous. As far as details go... Well, I did get to enjoy the wonders of strap-on sex for the first time (good times!). Miss Sex also introduced me to the beauty that is Flight of the Conchords and we watched some season 5 episodes of The L Word and were inspired by the sex scenes in more ways than one. But back to Flight of the Conchords:

Oh, so many quotables. In that song and in others. But my new favorite line has got to be: "She's so hot she's making me sexist. Bitch."

Concerned Co-Workers and Easter Sex

My co-workers are deeply concerned about me. The reason for all this concern? The fact that I spend my Friday evenings watching old episodes of The Office and crocheting. I agree that it is slightly alarming. I mean, I am in my early 20's, an age that is typically more associated with wild nights out and sleep deprivation. So I find it sweet that two of my co-workers were trying to encourage me to go out and date, or at least find myself a one-night stand or two.

I, of course, informed them of my recently booked four day trip to go see Miss Sex. That is, however, way off in the future, or more specifically Easter weekend (oh, March, you can't come soon enough). I'm very much looking forward to it and I've gone ahead and purchased a few toys to bring along, all to fulfill some of the scenarios Miss Sex and I are itching to put into practice. Well, I didn't tell the co-workers about the toys actually, thought that might be a bit much. But I did tell them that I have some sex planned in already, so my dry spell this time around won't be quite so prolonged.

Miss Sex does live quite a long train ride away though, and so my one co-worker suggested I get myself a more local booty call. That sounds good and all, but honestly Miss Sex is the only queer woman I've met so far who's had such an awesomely free outlook on sex with no strings attached. I've met women who come off as being very free-spirited, but once you get down to it... lots and lots of strings get attached. And then there's others that truly share my outlook on sex, but most of those are my dear friends whom I have no physical attraction towards. But hey, I'm always on the look-out. And anyway, it's not like I wouldn't consider a relationship, should an oppurtunity arise. I just think the chances are slim of me finding someone I can connect with on all the necessary levels and who actually fits into my life of very busy and huge need for alone time. But maybe some day... One things for sure: I've got a drunken night in the near future all planned out and I won't be holding back. And that's a promise.

The Sex Date

Finally I'm getting around to writing this entry. I've been stressed about work and now to top it all off I've got a terrible cold (again!), fever and all. But I've propped myself up at my computer to write this entry before the memories become too blurry. Not that I plan on writing out the details... Oh well, on with it already!

So Miss Sex arrived Friday afternoon and came over to my place. I showed her around my apartment (a pretty quick tour, it's not like it's very big) and we ended up on the couch, chatting about music, movies, friends, family, love, sex... you name it, we pretty much talked about it. And this felt like good talking, I must say. Not like they "Oh gawd can you please shut up so we can have sex already?"talking, but rather "Wow, you're a cool person and we're really clicking on this level". Anyway, fortunately one thing did eventually lead to another as she pulled me in for a kiss and then that was that. Good sex ensued. And that was the first night.

Saturday we spent taking bubble baths and cooking and talking some more. In the late afternoon we met up with some of her friends (and some of mine) for drinks. When we got home later that evening some really freakin fantastic sex took place. Really. Some of the best sex of my life. So when I say the first night was good sex, I really mean that: It was GOOD sex. But the second night... Wow. She was awesome, I was awesome. It was then and there that we decided that we definitely need to hook up again at some point in the future. Next time, I'll visit her and we already have plans for what we'll be doing. Hehe.

On Sunday she left pretty early to meet up with a friend before catching her train. Saying goodbye was for once in my life not traumatic at all. And that's something that I love about this whole situation: Miss Sex and I have a great connection, both friendshipwise and sexually. But it is not in any way a love connection. We want different things in some aspects (we want too much of the same in other) and we live many many miles apart. And I think knowing that what we have now is all that we are ever going to have is just so comforting to me. There's no wobbling back and forth, no "what do I feel?", "what do I want?". Just "Ah. Good stuff."

I'm left with a newly awoken appreciation for sex, a boosted sexual confidence level, and the harmonic feeling of finally getting laid.

A quick update

The sex date has come and gone but I've been too busy to blog about it (damn work and sleep, getting in the way of my blogging!) so I just wanted to drop in and let any interested parties know that it was very successful and that I'm exhausted but feeling very pleased... in more ways than one. The dry spell is officially over! Cheers!

Report from Celibate Land

I went away for a while. Not so much physically - I've still been lounging around my apartment, as usual - but as far as the blogging goes. I suppose making a pledge to be celibate for life makes for really boring blogging material, and so I wasn't very inspired to write. And my gawd, my life sure has been boring these past few months. I've basically worked lots and spent a whole lot of quality time with my dog. Well, that's not completely true. I've managed to fit in a few weekend excursions to visit dear friends I don't get to see very often. I've spent fun times with the friends I do get to see quite often. I spent part of these past months struggling with a bad cold that later turned into an eye infection and sinusitis, and in the process I watched a whole lot of movies and good tv-shows (yeah, not very exciting, I know).

Welcome to Celibate Land!

Regardless of how the past few months have been, I'm now inspired to write again because things are a-stirring.

First things first: I have a sex date. Yes, it's true. A woman I've only met once before will traveling down to my end of the country for a weekend of meaningless sex. And that is for sure: This will be sex and nothing else. It might be meaningful in the sense that I'll be getting laid for the first time in forever, but that's all the meaning it will hold. And I couldn't be more thrilled!

Secondly: A friend of mine just called me and wants to set me up on a blind date with a girl she claims is beautiful and on the look-out for a good woman. She pleaded me to agree to go out with this girl, something that really wasn't necessary considering how bored I've been with myself and my love life lately. But she probably did so based on our previous experiences with her matchmaking efforts (hint: they haven't worked out too good).

What can I say? I'm getting excited about my life for the first time in quite a while! And that may sound slightly tragic, like I'm this single just walking around feeling worthless... but that couldn't be further from the truth! I just happen to think that I'm quite a catch and that I shouldn't be thrown out of the "people-with-a-healthy-sex-life"-group quite yet...

Think I’m gonna cry, I don’t know why…

Post-Pride depression has now hit me full force, and it’s brought its friends, Post-Vacation depression and Summer-Is-Ending depression. I’m going back to work on Monday and right now I’m not loving my job. I know that it’s only that I’ve been away from it for a couple of weeks that’s causing this feeling of impending doom since I normally love my job and feel fortunate to be working with something I feel passionately about, but… right now I just want to cry whenever I think of the misery that is 10 months until next summer. It’s getting darker, the days are shorter, I’ll be working non-stop and my personal life will be boring and more or less non-existent as it normally is.

Oh, I’m such a pessimist.

Regardless: I promised a run down of the high- and lowlights of Pride, and here they are:

The Parties: Wednesday was a slow night, we just hung out in Pride Park and had a few beers (we did watch Betty though and regardless of what you might think of the L Word theme song, they were good fun to see live, those crazy women). Thursday night was the big annual women’s party, 1500 girls on five dance floors. It was a fabulous time as always though the amount of incredibly beautiful women made all of our heads spin until we couldn’t focus on any one in particular. Friday night we went to a women’s dominated gay bar and danced ourselves sweaty. And Saturday night every one was exhausted and only two of us made it out to the queer party we’d already bought tickets for. The two of us had a great time though, dancing the night away, running into friends and acquaintances (among others The Acquaintance and “Straight” Girl) and enjoying our last night of Pride.

The Friends: Seeing old ones, making new ones, and establishing deeper connections with those you previously knew only superficially is always fantastic. And it happens a lot, and very intensely, at Pride for me. And introducing Pride to newbies is always an amazing experience, and this year we had lots of newbies along for the ride, among others The Ex.

The Speeches and Seminars: One speech in particular comes to mind for me. Tiina Rosenberg, a queer feminist icon in my eyes, rousing up the crowd in the book tent in Pride Park, reaching an almost religious feeling as she cursed the patriarchy and encouraged all dykes to be ugly, fat, and aggressive. And to continue drinking our herbal tea. She was funny and energetic and amazing. Also, the panel discussion in Pride House on morals as a social construction was interesting and set off discussions within my group of friends.

The Shopping: LGBT literature, I love it. And I can’t find it as easily accessible anywhere but in Pride Park. I must’ve bought five books and less than a week later all but one have been read. And then there’s all the cute little stuff, the magnets and post cards and t-shirts and pins that you just can’t not buy. You gotta have those Pride souvenirs I suppose, at least one or two.

The Parade: We had a theme and it was kind of sexy. I had on a pretty slutty outfit to start out. Then I got warm (and a little drunk) and decided to take off the more covering parts of the outfit. So basically I marched through all of Stockholm, proudly waving to the half a million people that were watching the parade, in high heels and underwear. Let’s leave it at that.

I won't bore you with pictures of me in my undies, but here is a wonderful fellow parader who pointed out that we were wearing the same shoes.

Making Out and Flirting: There was mucho flirting. There was mucho making out (particularly in the parade, I left a lot of smudged lipstick on a lot of girls). I must say, I was pretty forward all of Pride. Perhaps not so much with the initiating of make out sessions, but at least with starting up conversations with pretty strangers. Go me!

Not Getting Laid, Not Even A Little: Clearly a lowlight as it means I will go into absolute celibacy and never get laid again. I’m seriously giving up. Or as Pink would say: It’s just me and my hand tonight (and for every night from now on). Pessimist, me? What? I will however not be turning down pretty ladies that want to get in my pants (wherever those women are hiding), I’m just not going to be chasing after them. I am so done with the chasing.

And there it is: My Pride 2007, summed up as neatly as I could.

"I just want to go out and get laid"

It's Friday afternoon, I'm home early from work and feeling the need to write a quick entry before heading off to the country side for a quiet, restful weekend with my sis and our dogs.

I saw Ex-Gaybor yesterday and I managed to work up the nerve to tell her, straight out, that I don't think we're romantically compatible. I told her I'd still like to hang out with her, but that I feel that we are better off as just friends and she took it really calmly and matter of factly. And then we switched to some other, very non-charged topic of discussion. Felt sort of silly getting so riled up and nervous about it, really. It feels like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders now though. I'm so happy and excited to be totally uncomplicatedly no-strings attached single again!

But I still really need to get laid.

Thing is, I really am a happy single gal, most of the time. Once in a while I'll start feeling really lonely but it doesn't take long to remind myself of my great friends, my dog, and my family and then I don't feel very lonely at all anymore. So my biggest issue tends to be: The lack of sex. As I've mentioned before, I have a major sex drive. Unfortunately, it very seldom gets used to it's maximum capacity. Right now it's been about six months since I last had sex. With The Ex, one drunken night. And I need to get me some sex.

Problem is, I am somehow challenged in the scoring department. I'm the queen of making out, but I can't seem to take the step to the bedroom. I blame it on my bed. It's the magic bed that makes women want to talk about their feelings. Or maybe it has something to do with me being a social worker. Regardless, every time a woman's in my bed and all i want to do it get it on, all she wants to do is talk about her feelings or about past relationships or whatever other issues she has. Case in point: Sleep Over Girl.

Right now I'm putting all my hope to Stockholm Pride. "I am not afraid, I will get laid. I am not afraid I will get laid", say it with me: "I am not afraid, I will get laid..."

Mantras are good shit.