….and lets all focus on something far more important….
This image, brought to you by the fine folks at grrlplanet made me forget all about my angst and tortuous self-examination. That’d be Pink, MY Pink, and another hot, tattooed, spiky haired rock-n-roll chica. Holding hands. Standing close. I don’t know about you but – questionable butterfly hair adornment aside – my first thought is definitely not ‘ah how sweet, look at the two straight friends hanging out’.
Yes, I am aware that I have a strong need to continue to believe that Pink will one day be mine, and thus will eagerly soak in any and all evidence that will support my theory/delusion/intuition/fantasy. Perhaps there is a slight chance that I’m taking a simple photo of some good friends out at lunch and jumping to wild conclusions simply because it suits me.
So, I wasn’t looking. Nope. I swear I wasn’t. Holding the space, working on my own personal development, defining my new existence. All that good stuff. I’m solid and standing strong on my own. Yup.
[You’re a smart group of folks. Pretty damn sharp from what I’ve been able to reckon thus far. Not much gets past ya’ll. Can you guess where this is going? If you’re the betting type, I can hook you up with a good bookie…]
Last night I went out with J, and let me tell you – we had an utterly fabulous time. We hit the country bar again, and I two-stepped with some great dancers (the difference between tripping over my feet like an idiot and working the floor like a pro, I have discovered, is choosing a partner who really knows how to lead. A strong lead makes all the difference in the world). I even tried a little line dancing (Tush Push anyone?). I’m pretty sure I looked like a complete ass, but at least I was as ass who was having fun.
[Here, let me hook you up with some music to set the mood for the story. Every good tale needs a soundtrack…]
I know, I know, it sounds cheesy as hell (and lets be real, it absolutely is) but I always have a good time at this place. It’s low pressure, completely unpretentious, great random mix of people and pretty chill, without that sleazy bar feeling. Besides, I think that (much to my surprise) I’m developing a liking for girls with big belt buckles and cowbody hats. What’s not to like about that?
So, there was a girl there, but I bet you already knew there would be, because – like I said– you’re smart like that.
[Of course, being that it was a lesbian bar, and that I set up the story fairly well, I suppose it was a pretty safe bet…]
Yes indeed, there was a girl.
I actually met her a few weeks ago, and liked her immediately – but it was just a few days after things went down (or downhill, perhaps I should say?) with e. I was quietly hoping she would be there last night, and actually got a little jolt of excitement when I saw her.
[Her name begins with S, but since there is already an S. who features rather prominently in this blog, I’ll just call her ‘the girl’]
We chatted a bit, and danced once I think– and then J. danced with her. When my dear friend got off the dance floor she looked at me sheepishly drunkenly and confessed that she might have accidentally purposely told the girl that I thought she was hot. Apparently the girl said that she thought I was hella cute, and J. (dear friend that she is) told her that I was also hella single. She responded that she was also hella single….and with that helpful lead-in there was eye contact, and smiles and more great dancing and conversation.
And she kinda asked me out, and I kinda asked her out, and we exchanged the all important myspace page info and let me tell you, I was a little giddy. It was fun to feel that way – things with e. began with intensity and ended with intensity and there was no lighthearted giddiness to be found at any point. This was a reminder of how fun and totally without pressure or seriousness the very beginning of anything can be.
After the bar closed J (on the power of three jagerbombers, damn Red Bull) decided she wasn’t ready to go home. There was a brief discussion of after hours dancing at a gay boy country bar, but ultimately we all decided to head to Gay Denny’s to get our grease fix (yes indeed, we have a Gay Denny’s – or Jenny’s as it’s called by those in the know). Everyone should have a Gay Denny’s.
All was well until J started talking about her children, and I mentioned that I have kids as well. And maybe I’m being paranoid, but I think I felt a shift in her attitude. I might have been totally imagining things, and I hope I was.
For the first time I really started to consider the fact that my kids might be an issue for me and some of the women I would like to date. They certainly became an issue for e. in the end – and I’m sure it won’t be the last time the fact that I am a mother affects my dating potential.
Let’s be honest, if my children are an issue – what of my entire situation….
“Hi, I’m Jen. Not only do I have two young children who take up much of my time and energy, but until six months ago I was still pretending to be straight as an arrow. I’ve kissed just two women, and only slept with one in an utterly drama filled quasi-relationship that just ended on a bad note– but what I lack in experience I promise I make up for with enthusiasm. Yes siree. I’m enthusiastic. Oh yes, you should know that I still live with my husband. Not my ex-husband – we’re still totally and completely married and likely to stay that way for a while because I currently don’t have a visa that will allow me to stay in the country if we divorce. But don’t worry – we don’t share a bedroom…anymore. That was so last month. We’re just like roommates, except we had sex for 11 years and made two babies together. Oh…before I forget, I don’t actually have a job, or any source of income – and once I’m sugar daddy stops supporting me, I’m pretty much up shit creek….”
Clearly, I’m a real baggage-free catch. What woman wouldn’t want me?
But I think maybe I could like this girl. She’s cute as hell. She has a great smile and kind eyes. She’s an amazing dancer. Her favorite book is Dostoevsky’s The Idiot. She loves poetry. Her skin is amazingly soft. I don’t usually react to people that quickly – but I had butterflies when I first met her, I had major butterflies last night, and I have butterflies today wondering if she’ll still call.
Obviously, if a woman is turned off by the very fact that I have children, she’s clearly not the woman for me. I am not wholly defined by my children, or by my role as their mother. I am a strong, intelligent, bold, funny, talented woman with so much to offer to a relationship – but my children (and my past) are a part of the package. I know this, and the people I am really meant to date will recognize this as well.
At the very least I think I’ve met someone who could be a fun friend, and a kick-ass dance partner, but I’m hoping I get the chance to see if it might be a little something more.
I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.*
*On that note. God – I can’t believe I’m dating again. I last dated when I was 21. 21 years old, people. I was a babe in the woods. And I was dating boys. I’m 32 now. That was a LONG time ago and this is a whole new world, and we’re talking about a really cute girl here. I don’t remember how to do this. When do I call? Do I wait for her to call? Will she call? Shit. I think I’m too old for this craziness.
I have to admit that I swiped this video from the inimitable Dorothy, but I can hardly be blamed for not resisting.
First, it’s part of the speechless campaign, second – it involves at least the suggestion of lesbian action, and third – have I mentioned the fact that I’ve had a mad crush on Maggie Gyllenhaal for like, ever and ever? Because I have, and I do, and I lurve her.
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