denver pridefest 2012

Before moving to Denver, PrideFest, Pride Month, Pride Parade were all concepts i had only ever heard of. Dreams within dreams that were usually only spoken of by disgruntled conservatives on the news or in right-wing, religious documentaries about the evils of secularism. I once heard a few older gays speak of Pride in San Francisco or New York. When they spoke of it, there was always a grin on their face and a twinkle in their eye. "You wouldn't believe the things you could see there" they would reminisce. But in Little Rock, Arkansas, Pride was something only spoken of... never done. I wondered what it would be like to be surrounded by people "just like me".

Four years ago I moved from Arkansas to Denver. Pridefest was three weeks after I arrived in Denver. I will still in the beginning stages of coming out to family. I didn't even think about going.

The next year, despite much sorrow and gnashing of teeth, i was scheduled to work all of PrideFest weekend. I begged and pleaded to have at least an hour or two to go see this wondrous sight that must be PrideFest. Instead, i was relegated to work my fingers to the bone while the great masses of happy, drunk homos came pouring into the shop for frappaccinos and iced coffee. I was wildly jealous of everyone in their rainbow socks and "I eat tacos" pins.

The year after that, my gf was still living in New York at the time. I missed her dreadfully and the roomie decided drag me to the parade and get me drunk. It was fantastic....if you call being intoxicated in blazing heat fantastic. i remember dancing and music and girls in bikinis. a guy in florescent pink underwear shook his junk in my face and the next thing i know i am holding on to a toilet for dear life (the world really was spinning away) apparently, shots of tequila don't land well on an empty stomach.

Last year, i had recently been dumped by the aforementioned gf. (see dating blues:the beginning) I was pretty sure my life was over. It was really quite pitiful. BUT, i was not deterred from heading down to PrideFest...even if i was completely alone. I donned my "Legalize Gay" t-shirt that i had just bought with the gf three weeks earlier and walked down to the festivities. I wandered around the booths and took in some of the Main Stage action. I kept running into acquaintances who asked "Where's your girlfriend?" and "are you here alone?" I bought a turkey leg and a beer and sat in the grass. I went home soon after feeling utterly shitty.

This year, however, was much, much different. As you may know, i decided to work PrideFest instead of partake in the activities. The GLBT Center organizes it every year. They have managed to produced the Third Largest Festival in the nation and the Seventh Largest Parade... and I had the opportunity too work on the production team. Civic Center Park in Denver (in between the Capitol and other government buildings) is divided into five sections. Each section getting a Quadrant Coordinator (QC) and a Volunteer Captain (VC). I was VC for one of the sections. Meaning: my QC would give me a set of projects and i would coordinate volunteers to accomplish said projects. I was a bit leery of this particular venture having no relevant experience. As it turns out, volunteer coordination is really no different than being a team lead or shift manager or any type of mid-level management. I was in my element. 

Friday, June 15th, the production team spent all day setting up the park for the festival. There must have been thirty to forty of us working together to put up tables, hang scrim, place banners and other general event set-up. I worked hard with my QC to make sure our section was set up appropriately. Over a span of about 15 hour i watched the park transform into a glittery, rainbow wonderland. There was a kid area where there would be a petting zoo, games for tots and other family oriented activities. There was also a country stage, a mechanical bull and a VIP section for the posh festival goers to drink and watch the main stage from on high. There was a youth section where the 12-21 population could hang out. There was a Latin Stage, a Dance World and beer pong. And course, there were the vendors. Every type of business you can think of was represented. The turkey leg vendors, the booze people, hat sellers, belt makers, lemonade stands (yummers). There was a bead stand and a native american jewelry booth. There were plenty of pot grower stands and quite the array of gay underwear sellers. Around 10:00 pm friday night we were all set up and ready to meet at 6:00 am the next morning the get the festival running.

Saturday, June 16th. Family Day: People began arriving around 9:30 am ...kids in tow. So many little gay families running around the park that day. Kids in rainbow stickers and "i love my two moms" tshirts. Dads with kids on their shoulders waving at the llamas in the petting zoo. Festival goers began pouring into the park; most with as little clothes on as possible. I began to feel quite elderly when i caught a "tsk, tsk" escaping my lips after seeing a group of girls in daisy dukes and electric tape covering their nipples. It was family day after all! I spent the majority of my day hauling boxes of water to our sponsors and beverage vendors, re-grommet-ing banners and traffic-ing drunk gaybees.

My favorite part of the day was the Dyke March. The march was led into the park by the Dykes on Bikes. I and a few other volunteers walked ahead of them into the crowd yelling for people to move out of the way. I almost died with excitement hearing the motorcycles behind me. Butches, gunning their motors, grinning proudly at their girls riding bitch. The raw power alone was enough to make my knees weak but the sight of so many handsome dykes on bikes nearly killed me. (i want to ride a motorcycle so badly!!) I noticed a cute salt and pepper butch riding solo...and was in the process of working up the nerve to ask for a ride around the park when i was called away some other task. ARG! The rest of the day went swimmingly...by about 5:00 pm my feet were hurting, my hands were dirty and there was sweat trickling down my back. By 10:30 pm i was dropping into bed already anxious for Sunday.

Sunday, June 17th. Main attraction: The Parade. From about 6:30 am till about 9:00 am my QC, my volunteers and I hauled barricade to get ready for the Parade. I( moved so much barricade my arms were a bit jello-y the next day.) Around 9:30 am we were ready for the parade to come down Colfax avenue enter the park and head north onto Broadway. I had my volunteers stationed for crowd control and directing traffic. I was positioned towards the end of the parade where cars and floats could unload people. I spent three hours bossing people around: screaming asking them politely to unload their people quickly so as not to block the entire parade. . At one point the parade was nearly at a halt with six floats trying to unload....it was almost mayhem but i reached deep inside to my inner angry lesbian, barked a few orders and looked pissed off (haha right). It seemed to work. The floats got rid of their cargo and headed on their merry way freeing up the road. It hit 98 degrees somewhere around 11 am. My scalped was definitely burning. The Parade was a huge success...around 100,000 homos came out to see...and then they all collapsed in the park, drinking beer and laying on the grass. I have to admit, the rest of the day is rather a blur. I know i helped fix (jerry rig) the rickety old Latin stage...pretty sure i moved more barricade and handed out Close-out procedures to all of the vendors in my section. By 6:30 pm vendors were loading up and heading home and by about 8:00 pm we had finished tearing down banners and had loaded up our own truck. I sat in the grass, every muscle in my body aching, absolutely filthy with a sunburned head and looked at my exhausted co-workers. Everybody was smiling and making jokes about the weekend. It seemed to have gone so smoothly. I mean, we had our fair share of obstinate vendors and incorrigible drunks....there was even a group of bible-thumping protesters...but none of it deterred us from throwing a great festival. There were about 300,000 thousand people total who showed up to get their gay on. A few of the festival goers that i was able to converse with seemed happy and pleased with their experience. We sat as our leader thanked us all for working so hard and soon we were all headed home with the satisfaction of a job well done.

It really was an amazing experience: there is just something about being involved in making the festival happen than heightens the sense of community that PrideFest can bring. My QC and his partner have been doing it for seven years now...and i can myself making it a yearly habit. I hope everyone else had a great Pride Month, that you were able to feel a part of a community bigger than yourself. And if you don't have a PrideFest in your area...you should come to Denver...We'll show you a good time :-)


a heat wave and the dollar shave club

oh   my   god

its hot. like 97 degrees hot. like desert hot. so hot the grass is brown and crackles under foot. so hot my uterus is sweating. 

SO HOT I had to have lost at least three pounds of water weight just walking to get coffee this morning. So hot people were already swimming at 10am. There they all were laughing and splashing in their bikinis. I hate am happy for them for having a pool. I think its about time to hook up the window unit and walk around in my skivvies. (TMI? Surely not!)


A few months a go i was browsing over at http://www.canihelpyousir.com/. I came across this rather amazing POST. I had been bemoaning the cost of razors/razor blades. It really is racket! I can't believe how expensive it is to get a good shave. I am tempted, when the barber takes a straight razor to my neck, to ask if they can just go ahead and do the rest of me. That's not too much to ask, is it? My shaving future was looking bleak. I could only see two outcomes. I would become completely broke and probably homeless spending all that money on the nice razor blades. Or! I would forever have a rash of red, ugly itchy bumps akin to a measles outbreak every time i shaved. This is never really a look that attracts the ladies by the way. When i ran across this glorious post i could see the clouds over my future part just a sliver. I immediately checked out the Dollar Shave Club website. Oh happy happy joy joy! It seemed like a an amazing deal and bought a three dollar plan directly. 

Apparently, the Dollar Shave Club was so popular i was put on back log for three months. And what a red, bumpy, itchy three months it was. I decided to not buy top brand while waiting for my new razor and instead bought a package of disposable pieces of shit. Damn and Blast...when was my razor ever going to arrive??

Two Fridays ago i received an email stating that my order had finally shipped. I danced a wee jig of joy

This morning i sleepily went to check the mail.  To my delight, there was my razor neatly concealed in a small cardboard box.

I used it right away.

I am pleased.

It shaves close without snatching the hairs out of their follicles. The lotion strip thingy doesn't start crumbling after one use and with good shaving gel and lotion red, itchy bumps are no more.

Thanks to G at http://www.canihelpyousir.com/ for the heads up and thanks to the Dollar Shave Club for such an agreeable product.

I am now a smooth, clean shaven boi.


butch in a cocktail dress??

this image depicts what i tend to wear on a daily basis at work. change the jeans to trousers and the tennis shoes to vintage wing tips, of course. On the weekends i can be found in jeans, chucks and either a beat up baseball cap or a dapper flat cap. so, you may imagine my confusion at the following conversation:

coworker 1: "are you going to 125th anniversary gala?"

me: "probably not...i can't afford a new 'black tie' outfit right now."

coworker 2: "OH EMMM GEEE!! I would love to dress you up. I bet you would look great in a cocktail dress!"

me: feels nauseous and turns red "um, coworker 2, i can't not even begin to remember the last time i wore a dress...' 

coworker 2: "Well, that doesn't mean you wouldn't look good in one...

me: mind goes blank; hears blood rushing in her ears "uh, um uh"

coworker 3: to the rescue "I think Harper is the tuxedo type.

me: PHEW! "Exactly! Thank You coworker 3! I think i would even add some suspenders..."

coworker 2: looks perplexed and worried that i don't understand what girls are really supposed to wear. says nothing

i guess i should appreciate the fact that coworker 2 hasn't stereotyped me...i guess...but in all honesty i was really kind of annoyed by this whole conversation. Its not the first time she has mentioned making me "more feminine". Its not malicious, just ignorant i suppose. It was a relief to head to my second to last PrideFest Production meeting. No one told me i should get a negligee to wear to bed tonight. what i look like isn't a subject of concern to anyone...except, maybe, the cute girl with glasses who made sure to say hi to me....

on that note: tomorrows wardrobe


dinner party

a friend sent out an invite: "we want to thank you for helping out with moving by inviting you to come have beer and wings at our new home."

i arrive late. traffic. introduce myself to some new peeps. make small talk

It is evident i hail from the isle of lesbos...the rest of the party...they hail from the straight and narrow.

Folks are not necessarily rude but are not super warm and inviting either. 

They are all friends/family of my friend...they all are teachers and and they all go to church. yikes

I steer away from family conversations and church related talk.

I stick to traveling and beer...subjects i am fairly well versed in.

There is a child with pink eye present. I continuously wash my hands. 

There is a child who likes to stick his hand up womens skirts. Yowzers

There is a baby with big blue eyes and rather odd looking dog.

The dog and the baby are more interesting than the people. ain't that a shame.

Beer is flowing, a bottle of scotch surfaces. the couples become a little looser. The conversation is not quite so stagnant. 

We talk about The Avengers. Scarlet Johannson is mentioned. I joke that she is my girlfriend. The men chuckle mightily...the women look uncomfortable. 

 A new group of people arrive...all single (yay) all boys (rats) however, they are much more fun that the rest of the crew so i talk to them for a while.

there is a boy named stu. stu is short. stu rather reminds me of a young joe pesci.

Stu is witty
I am clever
We make the folks around us laugh and clutch their stomachs. 

Stu disappears. i have a feeling he is slinking of to meet up with mary jane...i wish i had been invited.

At the table there is my friend, three other married with children gals and one husband. I am empathetic with the trials and tribulations of motherhood but have have no actual experience. I nod my head and look concerned. they bitch about their husbands...the conversation turns to sewing patterns.

My eyes glaze over. I am still nodding and looking concerned but am wishing for an out so i can go play cornhole with the guys. 

The husband gets up suddenly...his eyes a bit desperate. 

"are you going to go hang with the guys?"
"of course"
"i thought it was about time"

he looks at me...i look at him...

He walks outside

I want to follow but am in the middle of expressing my concern at my friends lack of sleep.

I feel like i have been pigeon holed

I have boobs, a vagina and am no longer considered youngish....i must want to hang out with the woman at all times. RIGHT?

I feel confused and frustrated. I am a woman who likes women.

I love talking to women...getting to know them...learning about what makes them who they are. 

They are beautiful, graceful, warm, kind and sometimes they smell amazing (some of them anyway)

But, i don't want to spend the entire time with them...i have other conversations i would like to have.

I am hearing yet another nursing horror story (oh dear god) when stu walks by...

he's standing by the door. mouthing something and making wild hand gestures

what the...?

His hand signals are an invitation to partake of his weed. 

I make a move to go the bathroom but slip out the front door instead.

the grass is so very fine...so very strong...so very wonderful

My muscles relax, i smile. we are lighting up under an aspen tree in the park across the street.

I wander back to the house, stu asks if i've ever played cornhole.

"oh sure"

Teams are made, sacks passed out. I play corn hole with the men. They assume i know the rules...i do not. I quickly learn. My aim is oddly on target even with the weed. 

We talk smack, give props when props are due. I am not treated differently than they...i am one of the guys. 

Its liberating. In a way. Comfortable. Familiar. 

and yet

One can only take so many penis jokes. I am annoyed when they call each other gay and talk in lisps when they miss a shot. and when a beautiful red head walks by and stu says "I wonder which of these guys will fuck her tonight" i feel uncomfortable.

I feel frustrated and confused. I am a masculine identifying woman.

I wear mens underwear. I can throw a baseball farther than a lot of men. Give me a pick up truck and some hard labor and i am one happy boi.

but i don't want to spend the entire time with the boys either.

I am stuck in the middle...just not fitting in society's construct of make and female.

i am female but not woman:boi but not male

A square peg being pounded into a round hole. 



things that make a boi smile

1. A pretty girl, hair blowing around her face, driving a manual open air jeep in her bare feet...at dusk. (actually saw this today!)
2. A puppy that misses you so much when you are at work she cries and nips at your clothes when you get home.
3. A fresh cup of coffee and a cigarette (yes i know...the cigarettes must go)
4. Hot and spicy Ethiopian food (vegetarian)
5. Deschutes Black Butte Stout
6. My favorite maroon knit tie
7. Pappa Hills Popcorn (seriously, Google it...buy it...you will be forever grateful)
8. Kurt Vonnegut
9. Running into old friends
10. Playing tag with a six yr old, four yr old, two yr old and one yr old (definitely got my exercise)
11. A '69 Chevy pickup truck
12. Salt and pepper hair
13. Hiking up Guanella Pass
14. Tickets to see Brandi Carlile with Gregory Allen Isokov and Ingrid Michaelson at Red Rocks.
15. Chamomile Tea and NPR before bed (do i sound like I'm 80?)


observations on a gay rooftop happy hour

I've been feeling quite stagnant...bored, lonely and tired. My horizons seem to be shrinking instead of broadening...in short, the saying, "same shit different day" is beginning to fit my life rather well. 

I've  moped about it for a while....but that is boring too....

In order me to grow out of this particular tangled mess of sameness, i think i need to step outside of my comfort zone. Now, i love meeting new people and doing new things. But there is a moment before the meeting and doing that is terrifying to me. I usually get a friend to try something new with me...but this time i'm taking action and i'm taking it alone.

I signed up to attend a volunteer orientation at  The Center, the local GLBT center. What an great place! Walking into The Center is like walking into a corner of heaven. Its so refreshing to be in  a non-judgmental space...an open, caring space. I walked into a room full of other GLBT peeps looking to be a part of their community. I was inspired by The Centers long standing presence in the community and the plethora of programs they offered. I had a conversation with the Volunteer Coordinator, discussing the many volunteer opportunities I was interested in. She was impressed with my work history and my current foray in the non-prof world and long story short i found myself agreeing to be one of five volunteer captains working at Denvers PrideFest. (the third largest in the nation) I've been to all of the PrideFest Production meetings and after everyone i ask myself "what the hell have you gotten yourself in to??" I always end up in some sort of leadership/management/coordinator position but this is a little outside of my realm. I'm a small team manager, an office supervisor, a disaster response planner...not a LARGE EVENT volunteer captain! I am nervous as hell but wildly excited. 

so, PrideFest is in three weeks (YIKES) but i wanted to get my feet wet in the whole volunteer world so decided to try my hand at a Rooftop Happy Hour. The Center hosts a couple of Rooftop Happy Hours during the summer...its gets the community together and raises funds for The Centers programs.

Friday May 18, 2012

I raced over from work, changing at stop lights. I arrived rather breathless and was thrown into a group of bar tenders from previous Center Happy Hours. Slowly but surely in came the gays; old and handsome, young and beautiful, loud and crazy, quiet and shy. There were men and women everywhere, every single one of the gay, lesbian, bi, transgender, queer or ally. You name it they were there....buying drinks and getting tipsy. At first i was simply barback. I ran trash, filled ice buckets and restocked the beer coolers. A storm was threatening to rain down on our little party...instead it rumbled and roared but only sprinkled. There was an air of excitement as people drank and laughed and watched the sky for lightening. Finally it was busy enough for me to start tending bar myself...i poured pre-made drinks and popped the tops off of so many beers i was seeing bottle caps in my dreams later. There were scads hot, sexy, beautiful women everywhere! I winked and flirted and smiled....caught a couple lingering glances...i was having a BLAST! I saw a few co workers. Met their partners and talked shop. The night wore on and alcohol began wearing away at peoples inhibitions. There was a group of "almost fifties" women that I became quite chummy with as i served them beer and sweet vodka drinks.

her lipstick was dark and thick, her hair twenty different shades of brown and sticking straight out all over her head. She was starting to slur just a mite.

"you are too cute...how old are you? nineteen?"

"Haha! Im serving alcohol so i have to be older than that..."

"Oh right!! hahaha arnt you smart! You must be so smart! Its your glasses. Are you smart?"

"Oh sure, i'm practically a rocket scientist."

"Oh! haha your funny too! Am i going to see you on youtube??"

"Sure, i'm all over youtube!"

Her eyes widened, "Really?!"

"No," i chuckled, "i have never put myself on youtube."

"HAHAHAHAHAH" she cackled merrily. "You are too much!"

I had already grabbed her a beer at this point and was in the process of handing off a few more when she decidesd to run her fingers through my hair....no joke.

"Oh your hair is just great! What kind of product do you use? Where do you get your hair done? oh i love short hair....you should go to Sallys Beauty Shop!" 

"Well, i guess i'll have to check it out..."

and she swooped away as quick as she came.

a few minutes later two more ladies came up to the bar....we were out of the beer they wanted so i coaxed them into something else....They propped themselves up at the bar and one asked, "See any pretty single women here?"

"well, i've seen plenty of pretty women but i have no idea if they are single...."

"yeah, so , are you single....??" she wiggled her eyebrows up and down.

"and then some" i said dryly

her friend asked, "well, what if i were younger would you go out with me?"

her eyes begged me to say yes even if i didn't mean it. 

"Of course!" they roared with laughter delighted with the idea.

the first one asked, "how bout now...would you date a 50 year old me now."

"well, i try not to discriminate..."

"oh!!!! ha-haha you are funny" and she ran her fingers through my hair. 

Apparently when one is drunk you don't have to ask permission to touch someone else's hair. I've never had so many women touch my head.

One gentle giant, with a silver flat top, came over for another beer. Her arms bulged out of her polo and she strutted around with confidence. I popped open a killians and handed it over. Her eyes were twinkling and her pal nudged her to say something. I leaned over expecting her to take liberty with my hair just like everyone else. Instead she said, in a deep scratchy voice,

"I don't want to sound like a jack ass but uh, you have a nice keister...."

First of all, first time ever to get a compliment on my ass....i was really rather flattered.

Second, KEISTER? haha i almost died laughing. I blushed and thanked her profusely, she walked away blushing just a tinge herself. I hate that i can't remember her name...maybe i'll see her again somewhere.

Last call came all too soon and those of us serving drinks switched in to clean up mode. We packed up cups and napkins, took down tents and chairs, wiped down tables. We watched as people filed downstairs and back out into the cool Denver night. Groups were heading to after parties and clubs, out to grab food or more drinks. I could see one of the "almost fifties" walking down Colfax with her group of buddies teetering on her heels and singing. My feet hurt and my eyes were heavy but my mind was racing. There is just something about being in the company of people just like you, having fun and being free. I had a blast and can't wait for the next happy hour.


awesomeness squared

Jane and Rachel

this may be one of the coolest vids ever...just thought i'd share on this lovely monday morning.

I hear that two lesbians talking politics can cure any case of the mondays!



dating blues: dates who look like exes and bois who don't like other bois

so, there i was, two short days after cielo turned out to be insane, ready to go on yet another first date. except, this time, i really did not want to go. The only thing helping me keep the date was curiosity.

well, curiosity killed the cat.

There is a nifty little bar near my house called Jonesy's. good food, good drinks, good service. When you first arrive, you actually enter a very small foyer of sorts, closed off my thick, floor length curtains. I am not entirely sure why they are there, but they gave me a chance to survey the room without being seen. I scanned the bar looking for a gal with mid length, brownish hair. Instead, at the end of the bar talking on her phone, i saw....  MY EX?!?!?! (the very ex that inspired this blog. see: dating blues: the beginning) what the fuck? i was immediately sick to my stomach and feeling quite faint. What the hell was she doing here...and where was my date? How was i going to slip past the ex and find Aussie? I peeked out from behind the curtains, studying  the back of my exes head.

"Wait a sec..." i told myself, "That's not the ex...!" I slipped out from behind the mauve curtains to get a closer look without seeming suspicious. From a different vantage point, i realized (with great relief) that the girl was not the ex...oh thank you god!

"Geeze, that could totally be her twin...i wonder if she knows she has a doppelganger running around out there?"

 But where the hell was this Aussie gal...?

There was no one else in the bar that could possibly be my date...two dudes and an ancient blue hair? I think not... i slid a little closer to the bar hoping the ex look-a-like was not my date. well, she was. she looked nothing like her profile pic...with short, ginger hair. You would think she could have updated that photo!

I moved into her line of sight as she got off the phone....we made the usual "pleased to make your acquaintance" pleasantries while i slipped onto a bar stool and ordered a beer. We talked fairly easily, nothing too interesting but not all that exhilarating either. To be quite honest, the rest of the evening was not that bad....but not really all that memorable. We had similarly religious backgrounds, she thought my hair cut was VERY GAY(whatever that means), and she said she spent most of her time in coffee shops and pubs writing her crime novel. She bitched a little bit about being bored...and i thought, "at least you have the means to actually take all that time off!!! You could do whatever you wanted!" The conversation waned a bit here and there...until i thought of something else silly to say. She asked very few questions, leaving it up to me to carry the convo. It was getting close to nine o'clock when she spotted something  on the TV hanging over the bar. It was some sort of celebrity trash and bash show and she talked endlessly about how stupid it was but couldn't seem to stop watching it. Then, to my horror, The Jersey Shore came on.

she exclaimed, "oh my... I've never actually seen this show. It seems really stupid."
"count your blessings," i said dryly, "i had this girlfriend who watched it religiously. I hope to god i never see another episode."

apparently, whatever i said that night, the opposite happened. There she sat, eyes fixed on the screen.... quick bursts of laughter choking out of her followed by, "oh my god, are these people for real?"

" i think that's why it's called Reality TV."

and so, for the next forty five mins she sat and watched and commented on the excessive amount of tanning.

I was beginning to feel pretty knackered and slightly grumpy...i finished off my beer and started making moves to leave...she finally tore herself from the TV screen and we walked outside.

"Well, that was fun. really nice meeting you. I'll see you around!"  she walked to her car....i walked home.

Not the worst date, not the best....unmemorable at the most. and now that i've typed that it sounds jackass-ish....but i really cant stand The Jersey Shore! i'm an ass right?

Two days later i found myself heading out to YET ANOTHER FIRST DATE. This time slightly more interested than the last bust still not exactly jumping for joy. This time it was with "hip", the bike-riding chef. I met her at an small coffee shop where the coffee was literally AMAZING. I could tell she was automatically surprised by my appearance.I'm not sure why since i had the exact same haircut as in all my online photos, i was wearing similar clothing and was even wearing my glasses. But, then again i was surprised by hers as well...she looked exactly the same as she did in her photos too though. I think what was surprising is how similar we were. If "boi" could have an exact picture image we would be it. I think we both assumed one of us would be the more feminine...instead we matched each other: faux hawk for faux, american eagle boxer briefs for american eagle boxer briefs. She seemed either really nervous about it or slightly put off...i couldn't tell which. We had a lot in common though, including the love of literature, creative writing, tattoos and stout beer. We had both not owned cars at some point in our adult lives, deciding to bike or take public transit instead,  and talked about the need to work outside...gardening, ect. We sat there for about two and a half hours drinking enough java to kill a large elephant. Finally, she suggested we walk down to Tattered Cover (an awesome locally owned book store) to peruse our favorite authors. We walked in the crisp air, stopping at a couple of curiosity shops, talking about Ethiopian food and gullible women.

Once at Tattered Cover, it seemed that either she was unable to cope with the fact that we shared very few of the same favorite authors or she was just getting bored. We tooled around the store for another half hour before she just sort of walked out... i followed her out hoping she perhaps wanted to sit outside for a moment. Instead, she suggested we go back to pick up her bike and walk me to my car.

 "oh, well, i guess we're done here." i thought to myself. We walked back, no meandering this time, and soon i was being dropped off at my car. I suggested we grab a beer sometime seeing as how we both enjoyed a good stout. She agreed and off she rode on her bike.

I found her perplexing but was intrigued. A few days later i texted her. "I really enjoyed meeting you the other day. I would love to grab that beer with you soon, ect ect"

her reply, "enjoyed meeting you too. keep in touch"

keep in touch? what the hell...? thats what you say to relatives who move away or business associates you don't really need anymore....

I have a no idea what she actually meant by it...but i took it to mean, "Im not really interested in seeing you again but am to polite to actually say so. have a nice life"

After these two rather unsuccessful dates I found myself, in a rash of annoyance, deleting my online dating profile. As soon as I did, i felt a wave of relief. I have been online dating free for a few months now...its really quite lovely.

However, the past month has been rather lonesome. Instead of filling that with dating, i decided to take a larger interest in my community and signed up to volunteer at the local GLBT center. I also joined a Lesbian Book club...a bit odd...but am looking forward to at least getting free coffee and pastries at the meetings ha! I have been more active: hiking with the pooch, working out (this body really does need whipping into shape) and i bought a bike. I even got a library card with which i checked out five books from famous 1920s authors.

I hear that if you stop looking, the right gal will just fall into your lap....

i guess we shall see


BFF's, Burlesque and Boxer Briefs

You know when there is little place in your hear where you BFF resides? And how when you don't get to live near them or see them...that little place aches dully until you get to finally be with the? There is a little place in my hear that has been aching off and on for 10 years. 

When i was seven, hiding behind my mother who was dragging into yet another new classroom, i met MY BFF. She saw me peeking out from behind my mothers polyester pants and offered me her goldfish...we were pretty near inseparable until we graduated from high school. 

After high school we headed our separate ways fulling expecting live near each other. She would marry and start a family and i would bash around the world writing my memoirs. She did get married. I did bash around the world. However, we never lived closer than 500 miles to each other. We talked on the phone...i tried to visit as often as i could....but life has a way of completely fucking with our plans.

For the past three years we have been talking about how great it would be if she could move her family out to denver. Her husband is a firefighter...he could get a job here...right? 

They tried for ages...he flew to denver for interviews time and time again. To no avail. 

Two months ago he was offered a job. This past Friday, for the first time in nearly five years, i saw my BFF. There she was...same forever long hair, same smile...same hands...only now she is a mother of four. A devoted wife and mother, cooking healthy meals and recycling. She saves money by the bucket full coupon-ing and stocking up at costco. She is the mother of an Aspy kid...so loving and patient and kind. She is, in many ways, different than that little girl offering me her goldfish...and yet...she is still exactly the same. We sat up until the wee hours of the morning laughing and talking just like in the old days. Only now our conversations are about grownup things....her child having Asperbergers, me being a raving lesbo...in-laws and finances...car trouble and taxes...politics and religion. 

I woke up in her house Saturday morning...feeling quite parched and wondering where i was (you know how beer and whiskey can muddle things) I pondered us for a moment; completely different completely the same....that achy place in my heart not quite so achy.

so yeah...that was an awesome start to my weekend!

Saturday night turned out to be quite amazing as well...

why you ask?

one word:  BURLESQUE

I have this hilarious friend who calls himself the Irish Jew...he plays the guitar and performs comedy sketches at Lannies Clocktower Cabaret. I finally made it out to catch his act...

I caught so much more than that: i caught Cabaret Fever. I've never seen so many talented (and sexy) young women all in one place. They danced and sang and swung tassels around on their nipples. (HOW DO THEY DO THAT?) There was a gorgeous lady named Midnight Martini who swung herself around on a ring suspended from the ceiling. She accomplished such wild and exciting gymnastic feats that blew my mind and caused me dream about her later. We were each given these horrid little noise makers which i nearly wore out and became quite horse with shouting (the MC asked us to be loud and obnoxious just in case you were wondering). Who needs strip clubs when you've got Cabarets...so much more talent involved and you don't leave feeling sleaze dripping off of you. Not only were the young women amazingly talented, my friend was also quite hysterical...who knew he could impersonate Bob Dylan so well? I wish i had had a video camera!

so, friday night i spent drinking with BFF, saturday night i spent watching lovely ladies throw their clothes off, and Sunday night i found a bunch of boxer briefs on sale. (trunks to be exact) and not just any trunks. American Eagle trunks! I do not know why but i I LOVE American Eagle underwear...especially their boxer briefs. They are snug and comfortable...just the right length and always in my favorite colors. *sigh* Throw in the sale and i was one happy Boi...I am easy to please.

and there you have it folks...the key to a happy weekend...

bff's, burlesque and boxer briefs

happy tuesday


dating blues:dust yourself off

i really must apologize for my absence...words cannot express the intensity with which life has toyed with my free time; therefore i will spare you the details and just get back to dating blues.

Have you ever tried talking to more than one chick at a time? That whole thing where you are going on a date with one, emailing another and texting yet another. I have. I find it quite stressful...

Despite feeling quite anxious about talking to multiple women at the same time, a week before that disastrous Cielo debacle, i began emailing back and forth with a lawyer that we will call Aussie (as you may have guessed she's from Down Under). Aussie was an immigration lawyer,  on sabbatical to write novel a la John Grisham. She had a dog, a cat and lived in the suburbs (like 30 miles from Denver suburbs!)

A few days after the emails with Aussie started, a gal we'll call Hip, for hipster, began chatting with me as well. Hip was a bike riding, coffee loving, faux-hawk sporting chef who talked about the sound of big, black typewriters.

Aussies seemingly stable lifestyle was appealing. I mean, she was a lawyer for Christs sake...a lawyer with enough time and money to take nine months off to write a novel! Her emails were short, professional and to the point. Not exactly riveting.

Hip, well, hip was just cool. She worked for a non-prof closely associated with my own organization. She played co-ed soccer on the weekends and wanted to start her own self-defense class for GLBTQ youth. Her emails were descriptive; going into length about the taste of her favorite beer and how to find the best but cheapest big, black typewriters. It seemed we had quite a lot in common.

All the while i was wildly texting Cielo and making plans to finally see her. As you all know, that particular venture ...uhh, blew up in my face.

A couple of days after that disastrous meeting, Aussie suggested we meet for a drink. I will admit, the idea of being strung of by my toenails seemed preferable to another first date...but i pulled myself up by my bootstraps and agreed to meet her at a local bar nearby...

pick yourself up, dust yourself off, start all over again

Two days later, i was also making plans to have coffee with Hip at a delightful little shop nearby. I thought to myself, "why the hell not?! Both dates can't be a bust!"

It never ceases to amaze me how very wrong i can be.


why is HE in HERE? part 1

"Twilight was giving way to darkness. Milky moonlight filtered through the tangled canopy of trees. The air was cool, humid. The only sound was that of the cicadas and crickets calling out to one another. I could feel the damp, forest ground beneath my bare feet. The night air perfumed perfectly with a blend of earth and flower. It was peaceful. But i was terrified. For no other reason than that i was naked. In the distance, i heard a car crunching its way down the gravel road winding its way through the wood. Its headlights flickered through the branches,a beam landing on my body, clearly illuminating the contours of my breasts, the indent of my waist, the flare of my hips, the slope of my mons. All obviously female. I ran. Sprinting, tripping over roots and logs; scratching my arms and face on twigs and low-hanging vines. I encountered a set of stone stairs and scrambled up using feet and hands; cutting myself on the sharp rock. I could still see the lights from the car behind me, catching me up fast. Fear pounded in my chest, i heard the blood rushing though my body. At the top of the stairs i could see a clearing not to far away, a clearing where the moonlight bathed everything in a shimmering glow. I tore towards the clearing, looking over my shoulder at the speeding car. As i neared the clearing, however, i slowed down until i was tiptoeing towards the glow. Reaching the edge of the clearing i stopped; placing one foot into the glow of the moon. The fear caught  in my throat vanished. In its place, excitement, confidence, hope. I stepped fully into the moonlight and glanced down at my body. My breasts melted away to flat, muscular pectorals, hips smoothed out as if sanded down. Detailed abdominal muscles formed where softer belly had been. My body became a straight line from shoulder to thigh. Jeans hung loosely from my slender hips. I burst into the clearing, no car in sight, wondering what the sun would feel like on my naked chest. I felt Free."

 A few nights ago i woke up in a cold sweat after this dream. Partly still afraid, partly ecstatic. 
Its a dream seemingly RIFE with meaning...i haven't quite gotten around to figuring it all out yet. 

a few weeks back i was in that store we all know and love, Target (pronounced with a french accent if you please). I was feeling particularly dapper that day, what with my fresh, new, gray chucks, my favorite Levi's and a brand new red plaid button up from H&M...all topped of with a black, silk skinny tie. I stepped into the ladies room (i go back and forth you see; sometimes using mens bathrooms and fitting rooms and sometimes using womens). as i came out of the stall, i was met by the stares of a four year old. Her pigtails were bouncy, her eyes squint-y with scrutiny.  I grinned and turned to wash my hands. She grabbed her mothers arm as they left the restroom and whispered (i love how some kid whispers are more like an adults outside voice) "WHAT IS HE DOING IN HERE?!?"

I felt a moment of pride; i was wreaking havoc on society's view of masculine and feminine...androgyny is awesome! This, however, was followed by a much longer moment of fear. A moment so long that i slinked around target hoping that no one would catch me loitering about the mens underwear section. A large, mustachioed man slumped into the aisle i was in and immediately  turned back around. A silver haired grandma peered at me over her spectacle, eyes furrowed in confusion. Paranoia was definitely setting in and i forgot half the stuff on my list; finally i shuffled out of target feeling quite awkward and disappointed with myself. 

Where did all this fear come from? When i first came out i came out twofold: gay and butch. I came out strong too...getting rid clothes by the bagful, shopping the thrift stores for mens jeans and tshirts. It was so much fun...i had never really had fun shopping before...but shopping for ties and the perfect wing tipped shoe? AMAZING!

then a series of things happened to bring my feminine masculinity down a few notches.

1. Society as a whole changed their attitude towards me. It called me names, kicked me out of womens bathrooms,asked if i realized that i was shopping in the wrong department(ie the mens) and turned away from me in the womens locker room. Society looked at me with judgement and ask their friends which bathroom they think i used. Simply:It treated me different.

2. A few girlfriends convinced me that it was better for me to dress how they wanted me to dress rather than dress the way i felt more "me" ...ie "i wish you'd buy womens jeans...i like to know the girl i'm dating is a girl" SIGH

3. Friends saying "Well, i wouldn't have anything to say about the way you dress unless you went to far." TOO FAR?! what do you mean too far?" "well, like if you dressed completely like man...you know?" "no, i don't know..." (i hate when people say "you know"!)

I am not proud that i let people decide for me how to be rather than stand strong....

I am so tired of being afraid...I am too confident of a person to be afraid to dress the way i want! I can't help that coworkers don't hide the fact that they are surprised when i come to work in suspenders and a spunky little tie. I can't help that people do a double take when i enter the womens bathroom or come out of the mens fitting room. I can't help that i will be confronted by the way i dress many times to come....what i can help is how i react. I choose not to react in fear anymore....I choose to be proud, confident and hopeful.

anyway, i could write a book on this subject but will leave it for later installments.

Up next: MORE DATING BLUES! aren't you all so very excited?!

question: any thoughts on the dream? don't you just love vague, general questions like that?


young and wild and free

she portrays what i cannot
wild abandonment

special...and old

i made it through another birthday...

i have quite a habit of having rather shitty birthdays:

like birthday '03 where i spent it alone scaring myself shitless watching The Ring because my family forgot!

or birthday '04 where i broke my ankle. my gf at the time ran off to the Lake District (in the UK) on OUR vacation the WE had planned with OTHER people while i stayed on campus...on crutches...by myself.

or birthday '09 where it literally blizzard'd all over my damn birthday...i was stuck inside for days. I made my own steak dinner, baked my own cake and sang happy birthday to myself. it was bleak.

or birthday '10 where my mom came to visit me, found all my LESBIAN paraphernalia, outed me to herself and then proceeded to tell me that i would probably not be allowed to visit their house ever again or be allowed to be see my siblings...super bleak.

or birthday "11 where THE EX decided that it would be more fun to go get wasted with her friends instead of whatever it was that i wanted to do and then volunteered me to work in her mothers garden literally all damn day. just plain stupid. (don't get me wrong...i LOVE spending time in a garden...my garden, when i decide to garden...you know?)

so, this year, i had absolutely no expectations. I planned nothing, told no one; i pretended that i was not turning another year older...that in fact i was not entering another age bracket but was staying put in the "spring chicken" years.  and that no one or no force of nature was going to ruin my day!

First thing this morning i was smartly flipped of by an idiot on a bike...happy fucking birthday. 


all idiots aside, this birthday actually turned out quite well! 

My bff sent me a lovely wee package with a brand spanking new journal. YAY! 

My family sent me a box full of fun, little trinkets, a few gift cards, a new St. Louis Cardinals baseball cap and loving little notes. They've come along way since the whole "you can't come home" thing...my dad even sent a little limerick (half of which i did not understand) that basically alluded to the fact that i might actually be special. The idea that he still thinks i'm special, even after devastating them all by being gay, brought tears to my eyes. They have no idea what they mean to me!

"the roomie" treated me to a day of fresh mountain air, frosty brews and tickets to see James Taylor at Red Rocks... A-FUCKING-MAZING!

My Denver bestie left me the most hilarious voicemail about halfway through the day. You know the kind...the bestie kind. the laugh so hard tears are flowing kind. We have plans to paint the town red this friday!

Peeps at work sent ridiculous emails with pictures of cats blowing cake in a dogs face and asked the obligatory birthday question: "so, do ya feel older?"

In fact, this year, i do.

My body, in every way possible, is reminding me that indeed i am NOT getting younger...but much much older.

This past Saturday, I helped a friend move. What i thought was going to be a two hour affair turned into a nearly six hour shindig in which i think i used every muscle i never knew i had. I outdid my self trying to keep up with the men in the group...
(the only thing i couldn't do was help move the god-awful china hutch)
...and now my back in yelling obscenities at me. Saturday coupled with my 4 hour hike up Guanella Pass on Sunday has my body screaming from places i had forgotten existed. That didn't used to happen a few years ago.
I also found a whole new batch of grays....a few more crows feet and my affinity for staying out late in waning fast. 

Despite all the aches and pains (anyone have any ICEYHOT, by the way?) i feel quite contented with my life. I have wonderful friends. a family who is starting to come around. I beautiful puppy. A good job and a vacation coming up. 

any good shitty birthday stories out there?


ants in the pants

Happy First Day of Spring!
It was a gorgeous day, bright blue skies with a hint of cottony clouds. The air was crisp, clean and cool. Where did you spend your day,you might ask?. 
I spent my day it in a bunker. 
yep, in a damn bunker. Today was day two of four straight days of Emergency Management/Disaster Response training. Now, I don't don't mind a day out of the office...but FOUR STRAIGHT DAYS? and did i mention it was in a bunker?

Remember that kid back in school, the one who always got in trouble for getting up and walking around without permission. I was that kid. What was it my mother used to call it? "Ants in the pants". Sitting for prolonged periods of time in the confines of a structured environment makes for a very fidgety, distracted, grumpy boi. Add in the "lets get to know each other" segment and group activities and I can get REAL peevish REAL quick. 

Our instructor is a sarcastic, know-it-all ex-marine. He flies through the material like tomorrow is the end of times....I could appreciate this IF i had the time to write down anything he said. I do, however, appreciate that he rarely stops for questions and allows no time for that one blabbermouth. You know the one...the blue haired lady who always has more experience in the subject at hand than anyone else in the world...ever! The instructor has a beautiful assistant who rarely speaks...I wish he would let her facilitate an exercise or two.

Around 10:00 am we broke into small groups. I found myself surrounded by three extremely opinionated, extraordinarily sweet, older men. They all had various degrees of experience and decided unanimously to elect me, the least experienced member, team lead and spokesperson. 

thanks pals. you really shouldn't have.

We spent the day discussing the information and dutifully completing our group exercises. We worked well together. They rambled about their various expertise and i wrote down what i thought was important.

Towards the end of the day, one of the men from my group was appointed manager of the simulation we will be doing tomorrow. He immediately gave me a lead role to play in the simulation as well.

What Joy.

So, starting 8:00 am tomorrow I get to pretend to know what i am doing and then lead thirty other more qualified persons in how to do the jobs they already know how to do.

as the kids say,

P.S. Has anyone seen the new Gatorade commercial staring my one, true love Abby Wambach?? its amazing
P.S.S Imagine confetti and glitter being thrown everywhere. That's me celebrating reaching 10 followers/readers!!!!! I'm so honored there are actually ten people out there who want to read my ramblings. THANKS YA'll!


Dating Blues: Cielo #2

Mid - January 2012
I slid into the booth across from Cielo; skin tingling, palms sweating.
There was a moment of bustling and confusion as the waitress came and i ordered a beer...stealing glances at Cielo as she perused the menu. Finally the waitress left and Cielo began to speak:

"so, yeah, um, i just got an email from my mom. she's kinda upset. cuz, you see, my stepdad and i just starting talking again. he was more like my dad that my real dad ever was to me and so we started talking. facebook, you know?"

"uh huh, facebook..."

"and so, she just found out that we were talking...and um she emailed me...and its just a weird thing cuz they  aren't really friends ...and she was hurt by him...and so...you know?'

"um...yeah...that sound like a sticky situation."

"yeah for sure...and like he kinda roughed her up and she's still mad. of course she would be...but i don't want to shut him out...he's sorry and ...well ...you know?"

Umm, sure. So, is your mom really mad right now...or...?" I wasn't sure how i wanted to finish the sentence.

"Well, no...i mean yeah...a little but you know....(no, i don't fucking know) she's just a little upset...cuz you see...my step dad just found me on Facebook and messaged me and i had to write back...and she found out..."
at this she repeated the whole story again. For ten minutes she talked about the situation, never quite finishing a sentence, repeating herself and saying "you know".

We still hadn't ordered dinner...i was considering eating my arm or the tablecloth.. I needed to eat and the waitress was nowhere in sight. She came finally: just as Cielo was trying to repeat the story for a third time.

As we we ordered i took the opportunity to change the subject: we talked about work (turns out she was unemployed and not necessarily looking) we talked about living situations (turns out her housemates were moving out, she was looking for a roommate...hint hint) we talked about our cars (turns out she thinks its weird that not everyone can fix their own brakes) i talked about not sleeping very well (turns out she knows all about how to fix that problem: just buy salt rocks! Or was it rock lamps? )

During this conversation i noticed something very disconcerting. She did not look me in the eyes but once the entire time. She look at the table, her glass, her food, her hands. The one time our eyes actually met was amazing. Her eyes were a shade green i have never seen before...i felt like i could see way down deep where her true self was lurking. But then she looked away again, back to her hands. She repeated to herself often and never seemed to actually finish a sentence; as if her mind was moving at a speed faster than her mouth could keep up with. 

There was a lull in conversation, a lull i didn't know how to fill. I looked up at the rather distracting T.Vs  suspended from the ceiling. 
"Oh, wow!" i said, watching Rick Perry forgetting what to say, "I think i may already be tired of all the Presidential Campaign stuff...."
Cielo glanced up,clearly disinterested. "I don't ever watch T.V. anymore."
"Oh, really? That's cool....T.V. really can take up a lot of time that could be used for doing something productive"
"Yeah, I just remember watching the elections like ten years ago. I was listening to the T.V, from another room and heard this noise during one of the campaign commercials. It was like this beeping noise. BEEEP BEEP BEEP BEEEEEEP BEEP BEEP BEEEEP."
I was beginning to feel quite perturbed. This was not going the way i pictured it...not one bit. I closed my eyes for a second as she described that infernal beeping. 
"What do you think the beeping was?" i asked, tone flat.
"Subliminal Messaging, man!"
oh dear god
I couldn't help myself, "What do you think the beeping was trying to tell you?"
"Like, vote for this person or go jump off a bridge! I don't fucking know! but its creepy as shit,dude!"

She began talking about how T.Vs where invented by the Pentagon to keep tabs on the public, how people aren't prepared for whats coming and that she would like to go down fighting rather than drive a car off a cliff like Thelma and Louise. She talked about FEMA building concentration camps (there are videos on YouTube about this but I do not understand them.) and how she wished people would just open their eyes to the truth.

At this point i was quite done. Done eating, done drinking, done talking. She still had about a quarter of her giant steak left. I propped my head up in my hands, waiting for her to finish...listening to her relate her version of the Apocalypse.  

She finally came up for air, i hoped to finish her steak. (please, sweet baby jesus don't let her order desert)

I took the opportunity to rush off to the restroom. I sat in the stall wondering if i had met the right person. Was this really Cielo...was i being Punk'd? I hung out in the restroom longer than necessary.

I sat back down across from Cielo. The look in her eyes said, "I talked too much about conspiracy theories...must save face!"

She began to speak about herself from my point of view....in a British accent, "I say, this lass is a crazy one! Mad as a hatter i tell you! I really must tell all of my friends about my crazy date with a crazy lady." she kept on in this self-deprecating manner, laughing at herself. It was not funny, however. I wanted to grab her by the shirt, shake her a minute and tell her to stop. I didn't know if i should laugh with her or sit there in silence...i did a bit of both as she continued to make fun of herself. 

"well, i come into Denver a lot. so, just hit me up whenever you want. We can get a drink or take the dogs to the park!"
"Ok Cielo, thanks a lot for dinner. I appreciate it! Be safe on your way home."

I took the long way home, heaving a great sigh of disappointment. I felt really dumb for getting my hopes up.

I went home and watched a good two hours of television. I wonder all the beeping was about?

so, a few questions to the public:
1. anyone have a similar experience of getting too excited before a first date only to have it backfire?
2. what would you have done in my place?
3. and...can someone please explain to me the videos about FEMA building concentration camps??


Weekly Crush:Abby Wambach

I'm not that much of a sporty dyke. In fact i don't really give a rats ass about most sports...except for FUTBOL! (soccer) I grew up playing and hip-checked my way through middle and high school on the girls team. We played on a "free league" in town against women much older, stronger and better than us. We got beat up every game and lost nearly all of them...but damn if it wasn't fun. I like to think it made us tough. Despite the fact that i played on a women's team, i tended to ignore women's soccer as a whole and focused more on the men's teams in the Mexican leagues. I do vaguely remember Brandi Chastain's brazen shirt rip-off (awesome) and  hearing of Mia Hamm's amazing-ness(i know, not a real word)...but news of the U.S. Women's Team (any other women's team for that matter) wasn't given all that much attention in the news and internet access wasn't as readily accessible. So, i followed men's soccer....  
Until the last couple of years, specifically last years Women's World Cup. I was enraptured by the skill, speed and prowess of those ladies. Gals from all over the world kicking some serious ass out on the pitch. It was incredible! How had i been so blind all these years...blind not only to their mad playing skills...but also to  the skads and skads of gorgeous, sexy, muscle-bound chicas running around getting sweaty together. YOWZERS! It was at this point that i fell in lust love with Abby Wambach. I seriously cannot get over her...She is one of the best players out there. Strong, Confident, Focused...and hot hot hot. You all know that the Olympics are coming up, right? The U.S. Women's Team has a score to settle with Japan. The anticipation is killing me and I am on the verge of stroke. I will be that deranged fan, screaming at the TV screen, spilling beer on my jersey. I am confidant you all will want to join me in my rabid support after glancing this photo...
holy ARMS batman!

Happy Sunday Ya'll!

more dating blues coming soon...I PROMISE!


dating blues: Cielo #1

and so i messaged her.

She wrote back; flirty, smart....called me "trouble". I liked that. I felt mischievous...a bit of a bad boi.(i am in fact the exact boring opposite of trouble but i like to think that i am) The conversation was at once both intellectual and comfortable. I remember emailing back and forth so much one afternoon that i would barely get one message out before receiving another from her. We traded numbers quickly and texted late into the night. We chatted on the phone, her voice was deep, husky. 

Now, let me just explain a little something about myself....i am a SLOW mover. Like molasses in January slow. So slow i might as well be moving backwards. I don't allow myself to think in future terms...I do not immediately start planning vacations and picking out baby names. If we gay peeps could get married here in Denver I would have to be drug to the alter. Basically, I try to keep a straight (haha) head, a realistic perspective. I don't like to get ahead of myself....

Not this time,baby! i was running at least a year ahead of schedule. Cielo is a tattoo artist. I began imagining her designing only her best work for me. My back would be covered in her artistic wonder. Cielo is a bit of a mechanic. I imagined her showing me how to fix my water pump. Grease on her hands. Cielo desperately wants to travel. I imagined showing her all of the foreign places i have been, perhaps getting lost in an Austrian village. We both have eclectic groups of friends. I imagined house parties and happy hours with everyone laughing and toasting our l-o-v-e. ALL OF THIS BEFORE I HAD EVEN MET HER!!!

It is a bit embarrassing for me to admit how out of control I was over my own emotions, reactions. Not only was i fast forwarding to the not so near future i was imagining all the things i wanted her to do me. I was definitely imaging her shoving me up against a wall and having her way with me. good god that would have been hot....


We carried on in this matter for almost a week. I kept wanting to ask her to hang out but really wanted her to ask (i was feeling a bit selfish...I ALWAYS ask first)...and finally she did. She picked the place, i picked the time. 
"I am excited to meet you finally" i said...
"I can't wait" she replied

I got to the restaurant right on time (they call me johnny on the spot). Cielo texted me a moment later, "Tell the lady at the front desk your name"
"um, I'm supposed to tell you my name...harper...?"
"Oh yes...are you here for CIELO?" imagine much inflection and raising of eyebrows in that question.
"Right this way" the front desk lady swept away, leading me to a rather dark corner booth where Cielo was nursing a Jack and Coke....


dating blues: on with show

Mid January 2012

I was confused more than hurt when Giselle went her separate way. And I bore her no ill will. You can't blame a girl for knowing who she doesn't want to be with. i had had more fun with her in those few short months than i had had in years...so i thanked my lucky stars for that and set about to have some serious ME time.

HA!! That never seems to last very long. I have to FORCE myself to take the time to process, heal, reconnect with self.

I hemmed and hawed for about a week, blabbing to friends about writing more, painting more, exercise and volunteering. I was on my way to some quality me time.

"I don't think I'll get back on the site...not for a while anyway"

"Yeah right" The Roomie scoffed, "you'll be back on in a week."

"You don't even KNOW!" i countered.

I hate when she's right...hate, hate, hate.

Well, it was more like two weeks...but still...i was back on way before i needed to be. dammit

I made a few changes, added some new photos and unhid my profile.

I smirked at the computer screen "bring it, ladies."

You will never, i mean NEVER, guess who show up first on "my matches". seriously, you won't believe it....

CIELO!!! Remember her? That beautiful butch that got away...? (see dating blues: lookin' for love ) There she was in all her butch glory, just as handsome as ever and still talking about quantum physics. *sigh*

There was no way i was going to let her get away this time...without at least trying to chat with her!!

I typed up a simple email including a cleverly placed quote by a well-renowned quantum physicist and pressed send...


Easy Like Sunday Morning

can you smell the coffee? smells good doesn't it?

this morning was MARVELOUS. fresh, french-pressed coffee, freshly sharpened pencils and a brand new writing pad. there was also french toast, an NPR fix and an apartment all to myself added in there...what do all these wonderful comforts add up to, you ask? The PSM (perfect sunday morning)

easy like sunday morning

The PSM had me feeling quite inspired which lead to much cleaning and general re-arranging of the apartment. which then lead to an inordinate amount of grocery shopping and cooking. now the house looks as if the molly (or is it merry) maids were here and smells like beans and cornbread (NOM!).

 Its a good day.


reality bites

Make that Harper and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day


 this is me today....seriously. it is one goddamn thing after another. 
Blow after blow...my soul is feeling rather bruised and bloody.
I hate when the tears are so close to spilling over that you have to tilt your head back
looking into the harsh florescent lights
blinking faster than beating hummingbird wings to keep them from tumbling over the edge.
and the people keep calling
the people you work endlessly to help
people whose life are WAY shittier than yours
they keep calling
and you start feeling guilty for feeling so shitty when they are in deeper shit than you
and that makes it worse and the tears come back
one misguided blink and they trip over your eyelashes
slide silently over your cheek.
you wonder if you can attribute tears and red eyes to allergies?
marg from IT walks by as you take another call;
squinting at you
you clear your throat to quell the shake in your voice.
and all you want to do is smoke
but you're trying to quit
quitting sucks ass
smoking is such an expensive habit.
you try retreating to the bathroom
there are woman gabbing about t-ball practice and that bitch in accounting
maybe the break room is empty
there are men talking about march madness and that bitch in accounting
you walk outside
the smokers are outside
back to your desk 
you work
all the while watching the clock for quittin' time
then you can go home and cry for real
or eat copious amounts of mac n' cheese
or drink that bottle of bourbon
instead you go home and put on that old, blue cardigan
the one that looks like something dad would have worn in '79
you listen to 
Six Days at the Bottom of the Ocean 
by Explosions in the Sky
anger, frustration, failure and alienation begin to fade
now you are just cold
your body aches for sun
for warmth
for strength
you search the sky for signs of life

i desperately want someone strong and beautiful to sing me this song tonight...but ray will do in a pinch. :) 


dating blues: Giselle #4

i do believe i have a story to finish:

December 2011
The following week, after Giselle asked me if would meet her parents, i began to notice a change. I was still enjoying myself with her...whatever it was that we were doing seemed to be progressing. It was when we were not together, i noticed the shift.there was a nagging in the back of my head.subtle at first...so subtle i ignored it.
Christmas was coming and i was swamped with work, the holidays and getting ready to see the family(always a blast) .life was a bit of a blur but i tried to make time for nurturing her, us; especially before i went home for Christmas. I went to see her right before leaving for home, bringing a simple, wee gift. She ooo'd and awed over it...ate some of the candy and set it aside. i tried not to notice that she had not thought to get one for me.
     She snuggled into my arms and whispered, "I think I'm going to miss you while you are gone." 

my heart soared
    "which is strange because...." and here she trailed off mumbling about not liking being monogamous and not really feeling very strongly....

my heart began to sink...i was clearly missing something....
     "what?" i asked
    "oh you know...i used to not like being monogamous but i think i am going to miss you while you are gone"

what do those two concepts in common??
i had to catch my flight, leaving very confused and pondering her words.
The first few days of my holiday, Giselle texted me constantly.
     "omg, i miss you so much"
     "when are coming home?"
     "you are so damn funny...i can't wait to see you again."
     we talked more those first few days than we had the past three months....on one hand my hopes were rising. on the other hand...something was off-kilter.
     and then the texting stopped. almost completely. she had gone to visit her family and was seeing a bunch of old friends. I wasn't expecting her to be in constant contact with me...how selfish! but one text every couple of days?
     i returned to Denver....rarely hearing from Giselle. I had agreed to pick her up from the airport and was looking forward to seeing her...convinced that it would all makes sense once we say each other and could have a real conversation. 
     She was tired and stressed when i picked her up. "why didn't you just wait in the pick up area?" 
     "because i thought it would be nice to pick you up here inside...i can help with your bags..."
     "oh, thanks. i would have just waited out there."
     I took her home....we went straight to bed. I left early to get to work. 
     Later, we agreed to share pizza and movie with some friends at their house. I showed up wearing the same shirt as she(ON ACCIDENT!). Her friends ribbed us, calling us "those lesbians". Giselle was spunky and cute, holding my hand as i drove, making fun conversation. She spooned me while watching the movie, whispering, "i cant wait to get you home"
      Once at home she complained of a stomach ache and went to bed. I lied awake.
     The next day we chatted off and on throughout work....i was gathering momentum to ask her to clarify a few things for me. As i arrived home, sluffing off my work clothes, she showed up at my door. I was pleasantly surprised and simultaneously troubled. I asked if she was ok? she skirted the question, sat on my couch and watched tv. I made myself dinner, washed dishes, chatted with my roomie...all the while she sat in the living room watching the tube. She ate some of my food, drank some of my vodka and then laid on my bed for two hours. 
      At long last, she yawned and said, "well, i need to get going but i did come here to say something to you."
      My hear was in my throat...i already knew what she was going to say.
      It took her at least ten minutes of hemming and hawing, sighing and crying to say these words:
      "I just don't feel for you what i feel like i should feel for you."
      "What do you want to feel?" i asked
      "Yearning"   ??? ugh
      I sat in silence for a while...not sure what to say next...my tongue was tied with the confusion of the last few weeks. 
      ":i don't want to overstay my welcome...you know you can kick me out whenever you want, right"
       "Yes, of course," i said, "its my house, i know that i can kick you out whenever i want. I'm trying to decide if i have anything to say to you or not."
        A few trite break-up phrases, a few tears and a few more minutes of silence and she got up to leave. She requested a hug and i said something rude about women always wanting a hug after they've broken up with you. 
         And she was gone. I have heard hide nor hair from her since.

         note from the present: this seems a particularly confusing post...but it portrays the pure confusion of the time i hope