Going With Something Different

Last night on iplayer I watched ‘Atlantis’ that tells the story of the lost Minoan civilisation. Previously considered a myth created by Plato’s imagination, it is now believed that Atlantis was in fact based on true events on the island of Thera (now Santorini).

On my arm I adorn a tattoo of the ‘labrys’, a double headed axe, the holiest of religious symbols from this civilisation and used by Minoan priestesses for ceremonial uses and sacrifices to the Gods.

Most interpretations have identified the meaning of the double blade as associated with ‘mother earth’, some as a butterfly rather than an axe, others as the symbol of the moon with the two curved edges indicating the waxing and waning phases on either side of a full moon.  As a modern symbol it is used to represent lesbian and feminist strength, empowerment, self-sufficiency and independence.

Having been down on love over the last few years with incompatible and challenging choices of girlfriends, my friends fed up with picking up the pieces of my broken heart and nursing me back to my former self, want to take matters out of my hands and choose the right girl for me before I embark on another painful disaster romance. 

In fact they’ve already chosen the girl. She’s stable, hard-working, kind and considerate – all the wonderful qualities any sane lesbian should be clambering over themselves to hook up with. “She’s ideal for you” they tell me. “She’ll treat you right”.  I’m unconvinced, not with doubts about the character analysis of the girl in question, but as my boss so simply summed up, “You’ll be bored!”

It seems that subconsciously I desire a challenge and therefore attracted to those who are not altogether good girls. My boss says it’s a result of my hard upbringing with a childhood that needed ‘a warrior attitude’ to overcome, survive and succeed, that my ‘labrys’ tattoo and choice of girlfriends is a representation of this.  

The challenge in adulthood I am now discovering is knowing when you are reacting to default programming, that the ‘warrior’ can stop fighting and lay down her weapons. Hence why the prospect of someone capable of loving me completely and unconditionally and treating me right, leaves me feeling like a fish out of water. 

May be it is indeed time for me to learn from the Minoans for whom the double headed axe was a spiritual symbol that was about creating harmony with the Gods not a weapon to fight with, as mine may well represent. May be I should trust in my friends who know me better than myself at times and let them take charge. They seem to know what I need better than I do and with time, I can become the warrior only too happy to put away her weapons.

Don't Ignore 'The Crack'

You’d think that as you get older with maturity your relationships would get easier and you’d be attracted to those you’re more suitable too that are in the same ‘space’ as you, having learned more about yourself, grown wiser and gained a few painful experiences in life.

Contrary to this theory mine are doing the opposite.  My relationships seem more challenging, are getting shorter in length and the ending of them increasingly a drawn out process that probably consumes 75% of the length of time spent together. 

I used to wonder why lesbians stay together long past their relationship sale by date? Now I have come to realise that it is simply easier to live in a dead relationship where love and intimacy have gone, but at least you’re not rowing over who gets the cat in the divorce. 

In my 20s I was able to end my relationships just with the decision that ‘we no longer work’. A swift farewell and I never looked back. A decade older and endings exist in a constant penultimate state going on for months, occasionally years with lots of forgiveness, excuses, tears and counselling.  

You’d think it would be the other way around when in your teens or 20's time seems infinite and you’re less experienced, whilst once over 30, you realise that time is in fact finite, you’ve gained wisdom on matters of the heart plus you are getting older which means greyer, saggier, ultimately uglier and for some lesbians a concern their biological clock is ticking. 

Years ago I went to my first ever psychic, a little old lady in her 80s who lived above a shop. She looked like my Nan with the same taste in decorative crockery everywhere. She asked for an item she could hold and I gave her my silver neck chain I never took off.   

Amongst other things, she told me my relationship would end describing a crack in the wall that cannot be repaired. I had been with my girlfriend about two years and felt everything was fine. I came away upset, five quid lighter, and resolved that I was in control of my own life. What did she know anyway?! 

Over the course of the next two years the crack became visibly noticeable.  At first I tried to ignore it. Then I tried to hide it. Then I tried fixing it with my own DIY skills. Then I tried a professional who tells us after investigation ‘this cannot be saved’.  Still you hold on despite the ‘hole’ now as big and as scary as the ‘crack in the wall’ of Amy Ponds bedroom in Doctor Who. You’re scared for it has the same power to ‘consume people, erasing them from history’ (Series 5, episode 1). 

Eventually the crack has weakened the whole structure, everything collapses like a stack of playing cards and you’re left surrounded by rubble, the girlfriend gone to be eventually ‘consumed ‘and you wondering why you left it so long, why you didn’t sell up years ago when the crack first appeared and wasting all that pointless energy.  

I have been back to psychics since on the proviso that they don’t mention my relationship unless I’m single. That little old lady was spot on with her forecast and voiced before I was ready what I already knew but couldn't yet face up too. Her analogy represents so many lesbian relationships that drag on for years. If only we could learn to say goodbye when that crack first appears. 

When 'No' Is Enough

Out with mates in a local bar and one drink led to another. We moved upstairs where the dance floor was pumping.  A few more hours and a few more drinks and the night is drawing to a close. Only the hard core few are left, and the lights are due on at any moment. 

Fuelled by alcohol and a happy vibe from a great night out with friends, I approach a woman I know chatting at the bar. I’m eager that the night not end and it’s someone I’ve had casual ‘fun and frolics’ with before. 

I interrupt her conversation and get straight to the point, “Do you want to come back with me?”

Her response is rather akin to the ‘sandwich’ method that line managers are taught for dealing out ‘positive feedback’ to their staff. 

“I really like you; I had fun the times we were together. But I’ve realised I don’t want something casual. I want to be either in or out of a relationship, not something that’s neither. ”

She goes on to explain in contradictory terms about how she’s not ready yet, she’s confused and doesn’t really know what she wants, that she really likes me, but we wouldn’t work out.  ‘You want something different to me’ she finishes on. 

I wonder if she’ll remember this conversation the next day and the complete mixed explanation she gave me. The only thing that was clear was that I was going home alone. So I left to lick my wounded pride seeing no reason to stay any longer. 

As I walk home I ponder about how lesbians will always tell you (or you know it) that they are not ready, that they don’t want to rush into something, they’re still getting over their ex or other personal circumstances. But then in the next breath, they rush straight into a relationship with another after the first date, baggage in tow. 

Her parting words of rejection stung, because at some level we all are seeking that special someone with whom to share our lives with.  I’m just honest about where I’m at and therefore unwilling to set expectations otherwise to myself or others in offering commitment.  

The following day I’m having coffee with a couple of my male gay mates laughing and recounting the previous night. I tell my tale of rejection and the conversation that took place subsequently. 

“Wow!” Seb says in surprise. “You lesbians say all that when ‘No’ would be plenty? Is that normal?!”

“Yes”, I replied.

Recently Single: A TimeTo Ditch The Muffin

There’s many times when we make resolutions to ourselves that seem impossible to keep... Too lose weight, give up smoking, join a group, do a course. Invariably though due to a lack of will-power, lack of confidence, external influences, peer pressure, stress and unrealistic goals, we give up and go back to our familiar routine or habit. 

There are specific times when we look to give things up: New Year, Lent, a birthday... and guaranteed when a lesbian relationship has ended.  You can always tell the girls who have just become single - suddenly they’re on fad diets, have joined a gym, started keep-fit classes, are constantly chewing Nicorette gum and talk incessantly about losing weight and getting their tone back. They are on a mission to look and feel good and get their life ‘back in shape’. 

During the course of my last relationship I put on about a stone and a half. My partner was ‘a feeder’; she cared by ensuring I never skipped a meal and ate wholesomely food for each of them.  She was always concerned that I didn’t properly eat when alone, missing meals and living on a diet predominantly of raw food and baked beans (not together I might add!) 

Its funny how as lesbians, when we’re single we want to look good by being our correct ‘height weight BMI’ ratio and will take the steps necessary to do so, but as soon as we enter a relationship we stop caring. We no longer go to the gym or that sports group we did previously, we over eat, we generally are less active preferring cuddles on the couch and weight gain becomes inevitable.  

At a party with mostly women I didn’t know, one of the girls was described quite openly to me during the course of the evening by her friends who were shocked at the negative transformation in her appearance. Apparently she was once really trendy, super-cool and very attractive, but having since partnered up no longer made the effort, her sense of style had diminished as she’d ‘merged’ with the new girl in her life and she’d put on considerable weight.  

I recently separated and people are already commenting that I’ve lost weight, which of course I’m thrilled about and caused totally by my former eating habits returning.  I’ve personally not felt the need to go to extreme lengths in pursuit of restoring happiness and equilibrium that my friends (also nursing broken hearts) are going too.  Then again, fed up with a muffin top as a stark reminder, I have just spontaneously registered to do the Cancer Research 5K ‘Race for Life’ in Brighton come July!

Please sponsor me to gain pounds of a different kind, the sort that actually help women stay healthy. My donation page is here. All pounds gained are gratefully received.

The Eligible Lesbian Bachelorette

A friend of mind tells me she’s been invited to a party of a lesbian that’s super-rich. The sort that owns a global company, a private plane and no worries about needing an overdraft anytime in the near future. 

“Um, I’m not sure about going... it clashes with other things I’ve already arranged”, she tells me.

I tell her that we have to go; other arrangements will have to wait. “If I’m going to be rich, I have to meet a rich lesbian and they are few and far between! This is an opportunity that neither of us can afford to miss.”

Go to any hospital or school and the building’s full of them – lesbians that is – and poor ones. They love the council too, very stable you see.  Risk and lesbian do not go together, unless you’re talking extreme sports, but when our prime motivation is building a nest, we’re looking for security and stability and that means ‘public sector’.  Yes, if you were to poll us, most will be working long hours in the caring state sector professions for a wage that’s not going to put millions in the bank. So the opportunity to meet a party of potentially ‘rich’ lesbians I was not going to pass up, when they are in the minority.

Lesbians generally are not as concerned with the state of someone’s bank account for eligibility. Dogs operate as packs and so do us girls. We date and marry for position within a social circle. Understand this and you understand the courting rituals of gay girls. Just like a wolf pack, within these tight knit groups are women that have earned a rank in a linear hierarchy and within which there is intense loyalty. There’s always an ‘alpha’ couple, a ‘beta’ individual who is the second in command (often the best friend), and the lowest rank is the ‘omega’. This individual is often on the fringe of the group, not always invited to the party.  

If you have been booted out of a friendship circle, you date someone of position within another.  If you are an omega girl, you have ‘sexual relations’ with someone of a higher rank to improve your position. If you’re a party animal, you need to be marrying the alpha girl. 

The lesbian world is an intricate society based on formalities, hierarchies and rituals. To be invited to all the social functions and an eligible bachelorette, what you need is a good position. I look forward to seeing how I get on at the ‘rich girls’ party with an empty wallet and an omega position. As they say, the only way is up – hopefully on both counts!

The Modern Soft Butch - A Biebian?

Last week I watched the latest episode of Glee (series 2, episode 13) where Sam decides that rock and roll in the form of teen singing sensation Justin Bieber will secure the heart of his girlfriend Quinn, who he fears he is losing.  In his transformation as the one man band ‘The Justin Bieber Experience’, he states that ‘hair is step one’. 

Sam goes on to sing ‘Baby’ at the Glee Club, leaving me with the song as a permanent fixture in my head for the remainder of the week, Quinn thinking he’s super cool and Sue Sylvester declaring ‘I’ve got to get that girl on the Cheerios!’

Saturday night at the local dyke bar and I turn to my mates for moral support of the torture I have been suffering. But they point out to me that Bieber fever has inflicted the lesbian community, as they now find themselves sharing the same style trend as an adolescent boy. Biebians surround me sporting that familiar comb over haircut, the trademark of the 17 year old prodigy. 

I return home to Google. I discover it’s a global epidemic effecting the lesbian population. There's a whole website dedicated to Biebians. Who was first I wanted to know. Were lesbians sad enough to be Bieberites?! Or had lesbians set the trend that Bieber followed?

As I research further, it’s clear that lesbians don't have a Justin Bieber haircut. Justin Bieber has a lesbian haircut! Dani Shay, a biebian music artist has even written a song about her mini-me and how she was there first!

Just walking up the high street you now see butch lez girlz zhooshing their hair from shop window reflections to ensure that accuate fringe sweep is in place and perfect.  The diesel dyke style of shaved or short spikey hair has diminished to be replaced by an androgynous modern soft butch.

Unfortunately the outcome for us femmes, is it is now easy to get confused between a sexy dyke and a pubescent boy!

Talk Till Death Do Us Part

Yahoo ‘Lifestyle’ recently posted up an article titled ‘Are you telling your partner a little bit too much?’ I immediately thought that lesbians could learn a thing or two from this. Have you noticed how lesbians will stay up all night talking, talking, talking about their relationship, and I don’t mean to their mate down the pub!

It's no wonder lesbian couples don't go out much and suffer from lesbian bed death; too busy depressing each other with an incessant analysis of their relationship, each other, emotions and feelings.  Every mineute detail covered until you’ve both exhausted yourselves and just want to go to sleep, or it’s escalated into an argument but which neither of you are now completely sure what about.

It drove me crazy in my last relationship. Talking about every intsy winsy thing until, just like matter under a microscope, as you look closer and closer all that’s left is air and a feeling of emptiness and space.  As the article points out, ‘this kind of endless verbosity is so boring and passion-numbing that you risk ending up as friends rather than lovers’. How many lesbian couples do we know that break up because ‘they’ve become friends’.

Even in Sex and the City (Season 4, Episode 5) Samantha experiences the frustration of this with Maria, her girlfriend. She first mentions it in the bath, “All we ever do is lie in the bath and talk about feelings.” Her annoyance grows when they go out and Maria insists on more verbal expression from Samantha, 

Why have you not told these nobody that you are with somebody now?
What am I supposed to say? "Hi, this is my lesbian lover. PS, I'm done with dick?"
Who said anything about dick? - I was talking about our relationship.
Of course you were.
Do you miss the dick? Is that what this is all about? It's OK to tell me. We should talk about this.
More talking?!
OK. I'll talk- How many men have you been with? - How many women have you been with?
Why are we even talking about this?
Why are you so afraid to talk?

Finally Samantha, bored and frustrated with all the talking replacing their once exciting sexual activity has had enough.

 Samantha, I’m with you on this one.