Please, Make Yourself Comfortable

.....lay down on the couch

It’s been a long time since I’ve met any women who’ve “done it” for me. And in the small city I live in, the pool of available sane sexy smart les/bi women is more like a wading pool, there’s no deep end and definitely no waterslide. (Bear with me, I’ve been at the pool for the last couple of days!---in more ways than one if ya know what I mean *heehee* *wink wink**) There is one singular gay bar in this godforsaken town, so if you do hook up with a new girl, everyone knows it. Usually, I can’t even frequent a drinking establishment without running into two-three ex gfs. Luckily, most of my exes and I are on good terms.

So, this weekend when I was out, I was shocked to see a multitude of hot girlies running ‘round. Some were more of your garden variety lesbian types (butchy, softball players galore!) with even fewer femmy types lurking about. Now, I would definitely align myself, at least style wise, with the femmies. And yes, I’ve been known to vamp it up with the best of ‘em. For example, Friday night: red mini, red heels, black halter.. ect, ect….

Yet, in attitude I’m far more *masculine* than one might expect.

For example, a table of younger “soft butch” women were congregating by the bar watching me on the dance floor. One of em’ in particular kept giving me the eye. You know, the eye, the smile, the big grin, and the head nod to friend in my direction type of thing. I also sent flirty smiles her way and made it a point to return her gaze several times. Still, at the end of the night, she had not uttered one word to me. Nothing. As the night progressed, it became clear there was no way in hell she was going to approach me.

So, Sally had to pull out the big guns, folks. I walked straight over to her table stuck my hand out, said “I’m Sally…and you are…????” She immediately picked up on the vibe and struck up a conversation with me. About five minutes into it, she asks me if I’m straight. And, in her defense, you really can’t blame her, as I’m fairly sure the term “passing” may have been invented for me. Passing is an interesting topic of it’s own, really. For instance, when I saw her I thought, “Yep, that’s a lesbian”, which definitely gives me the advantage as far as making the first move goes. So, yeah, butch ladies, I understand why you may be reluctant to hit on girly girls.

In my experience, however, I’ve also noticed the old saying “Butch on the streets, femme in the sheets” to be quite accurate. Therefore, in almost all of my encounters/relationships with butch women I have been instigator. I’m the first one to fire up the conversation, and take the lead in the bedroom too.

Ok, back to Friday Night Hottie.

Later in the evening, Friday Night Hottie said, “You’re a top, aren’t you?” And then proceeded to comment about my aggressiveness- funny thing is, in my earlier days, I wasn’t necessarily a top. Or maybe I was just a top in disguise. I often noticed then how the butchies were uncomfortable in their own skin, unwilling to let their femmy girlfriends *ahem* service them. I always found this to be strange, and lords knows, I have helped many butchies get over this fear. Then again, I have many straight female friends who are similarly uncomfortable. So, obviously, it isn’t just a butch/femme phenomenon in gay/les circles. I’m more inclined to think it’s an f-ed up cultural attitude women have been indoctrinated into and, as a result, experience shame with regard to their bodies. It takes a lot of work to undo all of the societal conditioning imposed, but it can be done.

Before the evening ended, Friday Night Hottie introduced several of her friends and one of them said, “Hey, aren’t you a sex therapist? I could swear that was what I heard you did for a living.” Astute observation, my friend, indeed.