Nothing much going on

Not much lesbian news in my life at the moment. I'm listening obsessively to Tegan and Sara's new album, "The Con" (so good!) and watching South of Nowhere online (also so good!) and that's pretty much it. It may have something to do with my social life being limited to work and my dog right now, due to circumstances out of my control, that all things gay are coming to me only through music and television rather than through real life experiences...

However, there's always one thing or another to tell. Such as the slight mental breakdown I had this weekend after spending an entire day with older relatives. Basically, I attended a luncheon to celebrate my grandfather's 85th birthday and almost suffocated on the celebration of heterosexuality that was going on. Everyone was so incredibly narrowminded and heteronormative and I think it reacted with my PMS in an unfortunate way because I cried my way home in the backseat of my parents' car.

Exaggerated reaction? Possibly.

I'm just so incredibly used to being open with my sexuality in all settings but with my grandfather, I've never really gotten the chance to come out. I don't see him all that often and I guess I just don't know how to tell him. So basically every time I see him or other old old relatives, there come the questions: "So, do you have a boyfriend yet?" To which I reply honestly that "No, that's not really my thing". The only problem is: They don't get it.

I was trying to explain to my parents why this is so upsetting to me. That I have never ever had issues with my sexuality (coming out was relatively painless for me, even though my mother took it horribly) but that the generational gap somehow makes it so very hard for me and that I feel made to be ashamed by those relatives that go on and on about their grandchildren that are getting married to such nice young men, blablabla. Well, my parents were so comforting and sweet about it, telling me that it's just another generation and they don't understand it.

Thing is though: I know my parents would never walk in a Pride parade, under the PFLAG banner. I know that regardless of how much they love me and are proud of me in other aspects of my life, they'll never be particularly proud of the fact that I am openly gay. And that hurts, because to me that means that they don't love ALL of me, and they're not proud of ALL of me. They speak so proudly and easily of my sister and her boyfriend, something they would never do of me and a girlfriend. I know it and they know it, even though they might not admit it.

"If I gave you my number..."

I have a confession to make: I'm in love with Tegan Quin. Yes, her sister is cute too. But Tegan... mmm, Tegan.

Yes, I realize that I'm creepy. But I saw Tegan and Sara perform on Wednesday and I was completely and totally mesmerized. The hotness! The talent! The cuteness! The funny! The tattoos! Oh goddess, the tattoos... I could dedicate a full blog entry to the beauty that is inked body art. Basically: Tegan Quin is awesome, her sister is fabulous, and together they form the awesome-fabulous-fantastic Tegan and Sara.

As the fan(atic) I am, I dragged The Ex and Good Guy along with me to sit and wait by the stage for an hour and a half before the show started. Unfortunately there were already tons of people, more fanatic than us, in the best spots, so we ended up being a little bit off to the side and in the second row pretty much. I swear 99% of the people standing in the very front were baby dykes. And they were incredibly cute and all, kissing each other and holding hands, but not so cute when they were elbowing me and having their friends push us out of the way to join them in the front. We elbow back goddamn it!

One of the cutest moments of the show must have been when Sara talked about what an attractive city Malmö is. Paraphrased:

"You are a very attractive city. Like, were we come from, in Canada, there are attractive people. But, there's like no ugly people in your city. It's sort of really unsettling, and um... we also felt really short. Because we're... [Tegan chimes in: "Short."] Yeah, we're short. And everyone here is like a hundred feet taller than us. Its... You're creepy sort of. But awesome! Totally awesome. Okay, so umm... Yeah."

And then they played a song and after that Sara appologized for calling us creepy, but of course everyone was just thrilled to be called anything by Sara so she mostly got applause all the way through. Woohoo, Sara thinks I'm hot. And Tegan agrees, she was nodding. Yup, the world revolves around me and I took it as a personal compliment.

"You give gay people a bad name"

My past few days have been spent at Malmöfestivalen, a week-long, free festival arranged by the city of Malmö. Yesterday I saw one of my new favorite singer-song writers, Asha Ali, perform her beautiful music. I highly recommend you check her out!

Tonight was a gayer, as a I saw a one-woman show called "You give gay people a bad name", by and with Helena Sandström. It was a fabulous hour long comedic monolog, with a few interruptions by her male heterosexual sidekick. I watched, I laughed, I identified. The show was all about psychotic lesbians, trying to pick up chicks, and crying yourself to sleep because you still haven't gotten laid. And there was singing and dancing as well. So basically, it summed up my life nicely. I involuntarily ended up in the show when Helena was going to demonstrate how good she is at picking up women on a member of the audience. Of course it worked (even though her pick-up technique only consisted of walking by and ignoring me), I would have totally gone home with her.

Unfortunately she had a show to finish. Before picking me out of the crowd she had just finished telling a story about boiling an ex-girlfriend's hamster and calling her every night for three weeks to prove her love. So clearly, she was playing somebody psychotic and we all know how the psychos are attracted to me. All in all, it was very "Killing me softly" moment. (You know: "Strumming my pain with his fingers, Singing my life with his words..." and so on.)

I loved the part where she explained to the straight people in the audience that there isn't one who is "the man" and one who is "the woman" in a lesbian relationship - there's one who's tall and one who's short. And that is how you divide the housework: The tall one changes the light bulbs, the short one fixes the car (since they can fit under the hood). And the garbage? You take turns, as long as both are tall enough to reach the trash can. Hah.

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.

Pride has come and gone...

... and I am left with a gaping hole in my heart.

Okay, so maybe I'm exaggerating just a little bit. But the truth is I always enter some sort of depressive phase when I return from the colorful beauty of pride to the dreary and rainbowless hetero-world I am forced to live in the rest of the year. Sigh. At least the sun is shining and the sky is blu, or I might not leave bed for the next week.

ride was beautiful and amazing as usual. I'll have to return later, when I'm a bit more caught up on sleep, and give a full run-down off highlights and lowlights.

Until then: Happy pride to everyone! Let's try and live our everyday lives just a little bit more proudly.

I am the psycho magnet

I almost got laid yesterday. Or not so much "laid", more like almost did it standing up in a bathroom at the club. But no, the girl turned out to be psychotic, as is often the case for me.

We partied hard last night, me and the usual suspects. We had all had our share of wine and beer when we got to the club, in good spirits. The club was pretty empty when we got there and for some of the first time visitors it was a bit disconcerting. But we were there early and soon the people started pouring through the doors and the dance floor filled up. I drunk-texted my dog's sitter and invited her and her boyfriend to join us at the gay club. She responded enthusiastically and they showed up just a little while after we arrived. The Dog Sitter had no idea I was gay until yesterday, but she had been to this particular club several times before and revealed herself to be a huge faghag and her boyfriend was tearing it up on the dance floor with his boys.

So, we were all dancing and having a great time. Being slightly harassed by straight men disguised as gay men to get as close as possible to the women (it's more common than you'd think!) but all in all enjoying our selves. I met this girl, let's call her Miss A, who knows my Friend F superficially. We made eyes at each other, we danced, we flirted. We made out and it was some good kissing. I went and found Friend F and told her I hoooked up with Miss A and she told me The Ex had had her eye on her (I've since devised the motto: "the ex before sex" for The Ex and myself) but I obviously didn't know that when I made my move. She also warned me that Miss A is not completely mentally stable. But I was drunk, so it's not like that was going to stop me. Well, it might stop me from taking her home, but not from having sex with her. Hmm.

Then things got creepy. Miss A and I made out some more on the dance floor, and we ended up moving it into the restroom. We locked the door and she turned the light on. Turned it off. Turned it half on. Turned it all off. Turned it on. And so it went for a while. Then lights were off and we were making out and feeling each other up. Then psycho babble:

Miss A: (Abrubtly pulling away) "I hate that I get so aggressive, I hate it!"

Me: "Huh? I didn't think you were being aggressive."

Miss A: "But I am! I know what I'm like, and I hate it!"

Me: (Getting a little bit worried and thinking I should just get out of there) "Well, we probably shouldn't do this whole thing then." (Getting ready to open the door and leave)

Miss A: (Hand on door) "NO! Wait, I need to pee first."

Me: "Well, then you pee and I'll go outside while you do that."

Miss A: (Grabbing my arm) "So what, you're just gonna leave me here?!"

Me: "That's right." (Exit stage)

Blah. I then spent the night with her stalking me around the club, getting jealous if I talked to other girls and at one point saying in a sharp voice that I was "flirting with all the girls tonight" and asking me in a jealous tone who that girl I was talking to was (The Dog Sitter). She could not take a hint this girl.

Still, I had fun. We kept on dancing, The Dog Sitter and I sang karaoke, and all in all it was a good Pre-Pride, minus the psycho. I just hope this evening is not an indicator of what's to come at Pride because if so I'll be almost getting laid with psychos for five days.

"I'm coming out, I want the world to know, I've got to let it show"

This week has in many ways been the week from hell, job wise. I've been so bitter and tired and asked myself several times why I even bother working in social work. So thank goddess I go on vacation next week. Just one more day of work, yay!

I will, as previously mentioned, be heading up to Stockholm Pride, for the fourth year in a row, and hopefully I'll enjoy five days of interesting political seminars, plays, music performances, parties and, of course, the parade. Tomorrow The Ex and I are heading out, shopping for parade outfits. We're a group of six-seven friends with a common theme. I won't reveal what said theme is just yet, but it's gonna be good, I'm sure of it.

But that's not all I've got to look forward to. No, we've been ambitious and decided that we all need a big pre-Pride party to really get in the mood, and so this weekend we're gathering in my apartment for drunken Pride excitement and then heading out to a local gay club. Score.

Coming to said party are the usual suspects and one or two heterosexual siblings/friends who will undoubtly be terrified of all the queerness on such little square footage. AND possible the sister of the bride from the wedding I attended not too long ago might attend. I guess I haven't shared that story huh? Well, basically the Sister of the Bride (let's just call her SB, rather then SOB, for short shall we?) was quite drunk, as was I, and she got very complimenty and perhaps a little bit flirtatious in her drunkenness. Our conversation went something like this:

SB: "So, umm, you're like totally gay then? Like, completely?"

Me: "Yup, totally."

SB: "Wow, 'cause, yeah, you're really pretty. I mean, I don't want it to come off as an insult, but you don't look gay at all. I mean... umm..."

Me: "Hah, yeah, well I get that a lot. That I don't look gay I mean."

SB: "Well, my sexual preferences... well, haha, let's not even go there. So you guys are going out to a gay club after you leave the wedding I heard?"

Me: "Yeah, we're just gonna keep on partying. You should come with!"

SB: "Well, I can't really leave... But I'd love to come along some other time?"

And so I textmessaged her the other day, wondering if she wants to come along this weekend, thinking she'd most likely completely forgotten our drunken conversation. But she quickly responded with a "I'd love to, but I need to check if I can change my work schedule!". So, she might tag along, she might not. Regardless, she definitely wants to hang out sometimes, which sounds nice.

And thus: I am excited about 1) Pride, and 2) Pre-Pride. What can I say? I just frickin love Pride. Let the rainbow flag fly high!

"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.

Frienship, love, something?

Still hanging out with Ex-Gaybor. And feeling more and more, for every time we see each other, that we are just not going to be anything more than friends. I like her enough, she's a cute and sweet girl, but there is just no chemistry and we're not getting beyond the hand holding and the timid kisses. And trust me: I have a sex drive, a major sex drive. So it's very weird when I don't want to jump someone that I'm dating. But we just don't have that, I don't think about her that way.

I guess I was hoping that it would change with time, but I'm realizing that nope, this is permanent. So now I just have to break it to her. And I hate breaking something like that to someone.

But then again: I can't keep doing this, seeing her and pretending that eventually this is going to turn into something more than it is now. All it's leading to is a whole lot of anxiety from my side. I feel like I'm misleading her and that for every day that passes she's getting more and more entangled in my web. I did have a talk with her last week, in which I aired my ambivalence about my feelings towards her, so it won't be taken completely out of nowhere when I tell her I think we're better off just being friends... and that makes me feel slightly better. But still not very good.

The good thing in all this is that I'm now entering that phase in my dating cycle where I feel perfectly content being single and have understood that dating is not for me. Nope, I'm oh so happy with my drama free single life and from now on and I won't try and force a relationship, I'll just fall into it when I fall in love.

(Remind me of that when I start complaining about how boring single life is and want to get back into dating mode.)

I can't be bothered

I'm all about being out. I'm out to friends, family and I'm out at work. But sometimes it sucks. Today was one of those days.

The thing is, I can deal with people being homophobic. I face it every now and then. I've dealt with my mom who had to grow to accept me as a lesbian and several other people whom I know would rather not hear me speak openly about my sexual orientation. But those people I can respond to openly and honestly and I'm allowed to get really pissed off and tell them to go fuck themselves if that mood strikes me. It's whole different deal with clients.

I'm a social worker and today one of my clients called, asking to speak to a colleague of mine. She wasn't sure who she was talking to when I answered the phone and so she asked if I was the pretty one who liked women. I thought that was hilarious and said "yup, sure, that's me" before handing over the phone to my colleague.

So obviously, I'm out to my clients. I don't introduce myself as the lesbian social worker but I speak honestly about my life, just as honestly as my heterosexual co-workers do. And just like they talk about their husbands and boyfriends and exes, I speak about my girlfriends and exes. If someone asks me if I have a boyfriend I neutrally reply that "no, I don't, but then that's not my gender preference". I'm usually met by curiousity and/or stories about lesbian friends or romances (and once an offer to be set up on a blind date, which I kindly turned down!). Some of my clients are gay and I've never been met by negative comments.

Now this particular woman never made any negative comments when the subject came up at one of our group gatherings. Today was a different story though. She called back shortly after having hung up with my colleague and I, again, picked up the phone. She laughingly said "hello beautiful woman who likes other women!" and I laughingly replied hello. Then she started asking me why I was gay, since I was so beautiful. She said she didn't mean to be rude, but she never knew gay women could be beautiful and she was sure I could find a man if I wanted to. She even had a suggestion, "a guy my age who would make a very good boyfriend for me". I politely responded that "that's not for me and that I'm perfectly happy as is". She would not let up though. She kept saying that I shouldn't be gay and that I'm going to miss out and how I can't have babies with a woman and "have you ever been with a guy? Did it not work?", at which point I felt things were getting way to personal and said in a firm voice: "Really, I'm very happy with who I am." To which she only kept spouting more personal questions, mixed in with appologies about being so plump, and asking me about my heritage and what my parents think about me being gay. At that point I just ended the conversation, thanked her for calling and told her I'd see her for her appointment later this week.

I know this middle aged woman is just very lonely and wanted to talk to someone. I also know she probably barely knows any gay people other than myself. But what really pissed me off about the situation was how she felt the right to tell me how to live my life and how I felt so prohibited by my professional role to do what I would have done if someone else had said something similar to me: To very strictly inform that person that judgements about my sexual orientation are best left to themselves and that, frankly, I don't want to hear that shit. That's pretty much what I felt like saying today anyway...