Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
43. trying not to make situations awkward makes situations even more awkward.
i'm going to take a brief break from my usual anti-romance writing and present to you things i do to make awkward situations all the more awkward.
but if you read the title, you probably already figured that out.
anyway.
1. walking in the rain back up to my internship office, i turned the corner and found myself face to face with a middle-aged man who was mid-swing in what looked like an umbrella-rain-dance-a-la-Gene-Kelly.
and instead of joining in [as i should've done, in retrospect], i stared for a few seconds before finally offering a friendly smile.
too late.
he took off without another word, ashamed.
2. i was eating breakfast in an elevator when i noticed yet another middle-aged man was watching me. mouth full of food, i tried to strain a smile.
it felt like a Grinch smile.
he looked away.
3. "I'm yoh mommy, I'm not gonna like any boys you girls bring home."
"Well, that's lucky for me!"
"GIRLS, TOO."
[this one wasn't actually entirely my fault, but it's fun to share.]
4. "You know, relationships and, uh, all that, that stuff that go with them, they're tough."
"...Yeah. I dunno, Daddy, I just don't know...what...to do...with girls."
"Me neither! I had no idea til the wedding night."
"...Gross."
5. [shortly after #4]
"I don't know how to go about being affectionate either."
"Okay."
"You know, haha, one day, I told your mom -- I was kidding around -- 'Wanna go upstairs, to our room?'"
"Um."
"And she said, haha, 'You gonna hap to seduce me first.' Hahahaha Of course, I didn't know how."
"Gross."
6. I drunkenly ran into a cute girl at a party. Didn't know how to carry on a conversation, as usual.
So, instead, I said, "Put your arms up like this!"
She did.
And I went in for a Sneak Hug.
7. I was 5, talking to my best friend.
"I'm not saying I LIKE girls, I'm just saying that if I was a boy I'd like Kate."
"Um..."
"So if YOU were a boy, which girl would YOU like?"
"...I don't know..."
"C'mon...you've never...thought about it?"
"No."
"C'mon! I won't tell anyone. This is just make-believe."
"...Vickie, I don't know."
"GAH! You're lame!"
8. playing Life with my sisters and my younger cousins, to whom I wasn't Out yet. it was my turn.
"'Stop. It's your wedding day!'"
"Okay, so you get to put someone else in your car."
"...Make it a pink one."
"...Why?"
"I dunno. My husband could like pink. Or maybe I don't want to get married. Maybe I just want to go through life with my best friend."
::silence::
"...Okay. Here's your pink piece."
[later, my turn again.]
"Yay! My...best friend...and I are adopting twins!"
9. [Someone tells a bad joke.]
Me: Bwahahahahahaha!
Cousin Angelina: You laugh too much.
Me: ...[internal suffering]...Bwahahahahaha...!
10. someone in my 12th grade English class told a bad joke about the book we were discussing.
having only gotten a few hours of sleep the night before, delirious, i replied, when the laughing stopped, "That was nerdy. We are nerds."
11. in my 10th grade English class, discussion turned to the topic of bullying.
i raised my hand.
and proceeded to go into a 10 minute tirade about the evils of bullying.
and started to cry.
a lot.
everyone was stunned and silent.
"I-I-I don't know hahaha why I'm crying hahahaha boohoohoooooooo! Hahaha! Boohoo! Haha! PMS! Boohoo!"
--
if there're more, you'll be the first to know.
but if you read the title, you probably already figured that out.
anyway.
1. walking in the rain back up to my internship office, i turned the corner and found myself face to face with a middle-aged man who was mid-swing in what looked like an umbrella-rain-dance-a-la-Gene-Kelly.
and instead of joining in [as i should've done, in retrospect], i stared for a few seconds before finally offering a friendly smile.
too late.
he took off without another word, ashamed.
2. i was eating breakfast in an elevator when i noticed yet another middle-aged man was watching me. mouth full of food, i tried to strain a smile.
it felt like a Grinch smile.
he looked away.
3. "I'm yoh mommy, I'm not gonna like any boys you girls bring home."
"Well, that's lucky for me!"
"GIRLS, TOO."
[this one wasn't actually entirely my fault, but it's fun to share.]
4. "You know, relationships and, uh, all that, that stuff that go with them, they're tough."
"...Yeah. I dunno, Daddy, I just don't know...what...to do...with girls."
"Me neither! I had no idea til the wedding night."
"...Gross."
5. [shortly after #4]
"I don't know how to go about being affectionate either."
"Okay."
"You know, haha, one day, I told your mom -- I was kidding around -- 'Wanna go upstairs, to our room?'"
"Um."
"And she said, haha, 'You gonna hap to seduce me first.' Hahahaha Of course, I didn't know how."
"Gross."
6. I drunkenly ran into a cute girl at a party. Didn't know how to carry on a conversation, as usual.
So, instead, I said, "Put your arms up like this!"
She did.
And I went in for a Sneak Hug.
7. I was 5, talking to my best friend.
"I'm not saying I LIKE girls, I'm just saying that if I was a boy I'd like Kate."
"Um..."
"So if YOU were a boy, which girl would YOU like?"
"...I don't know..."
"C'mon...you've never...thought about it?"
"No."
"C'mon! I won't tell anyone. This is just make-believe."
"...Vickie, I don't know."
"GAH! You're lame!"
8. playing Life with my sisters and my younger cousins, to whom I wasn't Out yet. it was my turn.
"'Stop. It's your wedding day!'"
"Okay, so you get to put someone else in your car."
"...Make it a pink one."
"...Why?"
"I dunno. My husband could like pink. Or maybe I don't want to get married. Maybe I just want to go through life with my best friend."
::silence::
"...Okay. Here's your pink piece."
[later, my turn again.]
"Yay! My...best friend...and I are adopting twins!"
9. [Someone tells a bad joke.]
Me: Bwahahahahahaha!
Cousin Angelina: You laugh too much.
Me: ...[internal suffering]...Bwahahahahaha...!
10. someone in my 12th grade English class told a bad joke about the book we were discussing.
having only gotten a few hours of sleep the night before, delirious, i replied, when the laughing stopped, "That was nerdy. We are nerds."
11. in my 10th grade English class, discussion turned to the topic of bullying.
i raised my hand.
and proceeded to go into a 10 minute tirade about the evils of bullying.
and started to cry.
a lot.
everyone was stunned and silent.
"I-I-I don't know hahaha why I'm crying hahahaha boohoohoooooooo! Hahaha! Boohoo! Haha! PMS! Boohoo!"
--
if there're more, you'll be the first to know.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
42. i think too much.
but i'm not really drunk right now.
at least, that's what i keep telling myself.
in all honesty, sometimes i prefer being drunk. not in an AAA kind of way, where i douse my daddy issues with copious amounts of liquid courage, make admissions to total strangers about things i could never tell my friends.
just in the sense that Drunk Vickie gets [at least some] shit done.
she picks the right background music -- for secretly emotional lesbians -- and makes moves on people her sober foil would normally be too scared to talk to.
that being said, booze plus attachment don't necessarily always meet good ends.
it's all well and good when i recognize the fact that i'd never have a future with the target of conversation, but when i'm into someone and not around them, i find myself making the mistake of succumbing to the lure of my phone's keypad and undoubtedly making a clingy fool of myself.
and when i am around them, and suspect at least a small amount of mutual attraction, the clinginess is all the more obvious.
is this a bad thing? in a lot of ways i wish i could be as forthcoming as Drunk Vickie. i wish i could say the things on my mind rather than think into the silence all of the words that never find a way out.
she wanted to talk about buildings. about how bare hands built them so big, made something so withstanding and beautiful.
all Sober Vickie managed to reply was, "Yeah, buildings are great."
and the part of me that only comes out when coaxed by sufficiently lubed chords revolted, was revolted, by the silence: the strain that choked the passage out, suffocated any chance of connection.
when i said, "Yeah, buildings are great," i hoped she heard something else.
that all i think about are buildings. how big they are, how little their parts are. how, of all the pieces of all the universe, these somehow found their way to this one place. to me. for me to see. and how, in a second, bad luck, it can all be destroyed. pull out a piece, strike it, touch it wrong, and the whole thing comes crashing down. and we can do that. he builds it, he takes it apart.
but i'm over that now, just like i get over so many lost sober conversations.
it probably isn't healthy to assume that my only meaningful conversations come about when i'm loud and obnoxious and careless, but try as i might to navigate those waters between what's too much and what isn't enough -- being close and not too close or not close enough -- i mess up. and any disconnect i blame on my over-conscious sobriety.
i wish i could shut my brain off, live in the moment, be myself. but when i really like someone, or convince myself that that affection is a distinct possibility, i become everything but myself; or, in a way, too much of myself. overwhelming.
how can i trust myself in these situations when so many past chances went astray and negated all of those "Love yourself!" infomercials?
being the narcissist that i am, i think about myself constantly. so much so i'm sure this is one of the many reasons my last relationship, last potential relationships, didn't work. they aren't always positive thoughts, but they're enough to keep me so occupied i'm sure i wasn't built for romance.
any contact, any inkling of a connection, makes me weary; i want it so badly sometimes i get wrapped up in possibilities rather than actual goings-on.
granted, all of these things pave the way for hilarious anecdotes i share with you for laughs, and i love making you laugh, but, just for once, i wouldn't mind having a boring, normal, for realsies relationship.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
40. parents know you better than you know yourself.
 |
| Can you pick out the lesbian? |
unsurprisingly, i found a couple of telling photos and subsequently decided to share with you some of my lezzie background.
at the time of the photo above, my cousin Jack was my very best friend. he couldn't speak just yet, so already we had a connection that transcended words.
 |
| Different outfits, positions. So you know it's a different day. |
he was the only boy in our family, really, apart from another cousin i never really got close to. i was jealous of him in a lot of ways, and insisted on dressing like him: t-shirt and undies, that's all.
my aunt even cut my hair super short, as my mother complained that my curls were unmanageable and often looked like a fro. i can't even begin to describe how happy i was [about as happy as when my mom, after years of my begging, let me swim topless like a boy for a little while. i was 8.].
moreover, my toy collection was pretty androgynous [following a Christmas where my aunt gifted me a toy purse and i immediately tossed it to Annie, my girliest sister, and turned back to my fire truck. this was all caught on tape. everyone grew accustomed to my tomboyish preferences.] so Jack and i had a lot of fun.
to this day we bond over our mutual love for Tina Fey and have discovered that we have eerily similar tastes in women.
this was the closest i got to being a Disney Princess.
i remember how, on the day we bought it, my mom first tried to convince me to wear a number of different girl/princess costumes.
"Don' you wanna be Belle?"
"Yuck! No!"
she sighed despairingly and finally surrendered. it was my first taste of real cross-dressing [which is actually weird to say, being that it's a candlestick] and i was pumped. in fact, Halloween became my favorite holiday because it was the one time of the year my mother would let me explicitly be boyish [every year, in fact, i was some kind of guy: the Black Ranger, Charlie Chaplin, the Phantom of the Opera, Huckleberry Finn, etc.].
from the time i was 5 to around my sophomore year of high school, my mother refused to let me buy/wear anything remotely masculine, believing, as i later found out, that she was slowing or even preventing the progression of my gayness.
it's weird to think that there are gay kids out there; probably because we're so trained to think of gayness as a sexuality, whereas straightness is just, well, natural.
we don't like to associate children with ideas of sexuality because they're completely innocent, so when a child claims to have a crush on someone of the same sex, no one takes him/her seriously, but if a kid was to have a crush on someone of the opposite sex, nobody would question it.
but my mother picked up on the early signs: the fact that i only wanted to play with LEGOs and action figures; how i begged to swim topless; how i watched Audrey Hepburn movies, over and over again; how i told people i was going to be just like Ellen Degeneres when i grew up.
the weirdest part about this journey, though, is that my mother's worries began, not when the above started, but the day of my birth.
when she was pregnant with me, she noticed how different the pregnancy was compared to those she had with my sisters.
all of the old wives' tales convinced both of my parents that i was going to be a boy: her cravings; the position of her belly; her mood swings; how easy the pregnancy was.
there was no doubt in anyone's mind; they even only picked out boy names.
so when the doctor cried, "It's a girl!" my mother knew that i was going to grow up with gender or sexuality issues; that somehow, even though i was a girl, something in the womb made me more masculine, or partial to a-typical gender behavior.
so began what she later called "The Sabotage."
she and my dad regularly got into fights over it; when i was 7, Olivia overheard them and confronted me.
"Mommy says she thinks you're a lesbian."
"...What's a lesbian?"
"It's when a girl likes girls the way only boys are supposed to like girls."
Uh oh.
and from then on, i was in the closet.
my mother told my dad to stop buying me action figures because they might turn me gay; my dad refused.
"Even if that's the case, I don't want her to grow up confused or hating herself."
so i started to receive mixed messages.
from my dad, that my tomboyishness was okay; we played catch all the time, bonded over Civil and Revolutionary War facts, etc.
my mother subtly tried to press more feminine or "normal" ideas into my head; i wasn't allowed to wear khakis, or cut my hair short, or play the trumpet or drums.
only bell-bottoms, curls, and the violin for me.
as i got older, though, it seemed that they were both more or less aware of how permanent my gayness was.
the only mixed messages i received teetered between hints of them knowing and others of them still wishing otherwise.
"You know, iss uh so saaaaad, about Jodie Fostah. About how people peel like dey can't come out to dah people dey lobe. But I HOPE DEY KNOW DAT, NO MATTAH WHAT, DEY WILL ALWAYS BE SOMEONE WHO LOBE DEM NO MATTAH WHAT."
so when i finally did Come Out, the results were a bit anti-climactic.
not that i'm not grateful for that; it's definitely better than the alternative.
but it did make me reexamine my past and reevaluate how much credit i gave my parents over the years.
how, even with their initial misgivings on how to deal with my Difference, the fact that they were able to catch it early on and eventually come to terms with it, almost no questions asked, is something of a miracle.
i kind of can't wait til i have kids of my own and get to pretend to exercise some form of ESP.
or just collect hilarious/embarrassing stories about them throughout their lives.
and tell all of their friends.
threaten their potential significant others.
Friday, February 25, 2011
39. bitches be triflin'.
ultra-conservative, hypocritical bitches, that is.
normally i don't let this blog get political; the farthest i've gone, i think, is talking about my gayness, which, while unproblematic to me, seems to garner some kind of ultra-liberal, hippie-dippie weight with its very existence.
but.
recent events in Congress have gotten me thinking.
i won't pretend to be savvy in political matters. the extent of my knowledge and the reasoning behind my views really only go so far as, "Well, I don't like the idea of other people in pain, period, so I'll support [or refute, as the case may be] these issues."
to me, some things are just that simple.
but whenever i hear the other side of certain issues, i wonder if i'm ignorant or too simplistic in my thoughts.
i mean, who in their right mind would purposely go about causing harm to others without good reason?
i've decided to try to break it down for myself, or at least to try to imagine the trains of thought of those who confuse me:
1. Guns don't kill people; people kill people. Just like how foul men don't rape women; lustful, amoral women who willingly get themselves into sticky situations give their violators the opportunity.
2. We need to keep The Debauchatron at bay.
3. [While reading the public-option for healthcare] "'The poor will be provided equal access to healthcare...will have the option...valuable resources for increasing the welfare of general society...TAXES?!' This is EEEEVILLLL. Why should I have to spend part of my hard-earned salary to help improve the standard of living of those who haven't EARNED IT? It's not my fault if they grew up in a poorly budgeted area and system. They should've been born and raised elsewhere. I need that money for the yacht I've had my eye on."
4. Sex education'll start giving kids the wrong idea. Telling kids about it, making all that crap available, they'll wanna start doing it.
...But not like the gun thing. Just because guns are easily accessible and constantly shown on TV and in the movies doesn't mean they're gonna start, you know, buying or using guns at school or anything. Pshaw. Totally different. They're not dumb enough for THAT. Especially if we, you know, hide them in our nightstands.
Like abstinence for guns.
5. God gave you that cancer that might make childbirth fatal. Don't disrupt His plan. He just loves that fetus more than He loves you.
6. What's "STI?" Sounds like some kind of alien code or something. If it's that bad, don't have sex with aliens. Or at all. We don't need anymore alien babies in this country.
7. Illegal immigrants don't pay the taxes [we don't want to pay, either].
8. Abortion is murder and the death penalty is...just desserts.
9. Gay marriage means they'll wanna start marrying, you know, their dogs.
Love is a good thing, as long as the parts fit and it's not for people who like "choice," gun control, and non-elitist education systems.
--
okay, so maybe i failed in understanding the other side.
but if you're on the other side, let me explain my reasoning to you.
i believe in God. i don't think my pro-choice, pro-gay, pro-welfare views contradict that fact in the slightest.
actually, for the longest time, while i was grappling with my sexuality, part of me was so empty because of how i truly felt that He renounced the very life He gave me and i tried to return the favor.
when i was at the end of my rope, plotting ways to end it all, i finally decided to read the Bible - in hopes of hearing, once and for all, from God's own assumed disembodied voice, that my life was a mistake.
but while those maybe 4 or so lines mentioned the wrongness of sodomy, they said nothing about Love.
Love of self.
Love of others.
Love of life, in general.
when Love occupied just about every other word in the rest of the book.
finally, i found the strength to be myself and Come Out and find happiness and wish the same for everyone i know and everyone i've yet to meet.
even you, People Bent on Stealing My Voice and Rights to Live.
i could never support anything that promised to make uneducated assumptions about the lives of the people i love - and i love everyone.
abortion is one of the most difficult decisions a woman can make, according to my mother who, one pregnancy prior to giving birth to my eldest sister, faced that very same decision when she and my dad just could not financially or emotionally support a baby.
when i see the pain in her eyes in recalling that choice, and hear her explain that it was what was right for them at the time, i know that this decision isn't one that's made lightly, as those men in Congress seem to believe.
more than this, i could never allow a broken system to force women into these situations in the first place.
i advocate proper education, preparedness, awareness, and protection.
like most people, i wish we lived in a world devoid of tough decisions, conflict, poverty, education gaps, and discrimination.
but we don't.
the best we can do is prepare ourselves. give ourselves a chance. respect one another. Love each other.
normally i don't let this blog get political; the farthest i've gone, i think, is talking about my gayness, which, while unproblematic to me, seems to garner some kind of ultra-liberal, hippie-dippie weight with its very existence.
but.
recent events in Congress have gotten me thinking.
i won't pretend to be savvy in political matters. the extent of my knowledge and the reasoning behind my views really only go so far as, "Well, I don't like the idea of other people in pain, period, so I'll support [or refute, as the case may be] these issues."
to me, some things are just that simple.
but whenever i hear the other side of certain issues, i wonder if i'm ignorant or too simplistic in my thoughts.
i mean, who in their right mind would purposely go about causing harm to others without good reason?
i've decided to try to break it down for myself, or at least to try to imagine the trains of thought of those who confuse me:
1. Guns don't kill people; people kill people. Just like how foul men don't rape women; lustful, amoral women who willingly get themselves into sticky situations give their violators the opportunity.
2. We need to keep The Debauchatron at bay.
3. [While reading the public-option for healthcare] "'The poor will be provided equal access to healthcare...will have the option...valuable resources for increasing the welfare of general society...TAXES?!' This is EEEEVILLLL. Why should I have to spend part of my hard-earned salary to help improve the standard of living of those who haven't EARNED IT? It's not my fault if they grew up in a poorly budgeted area and system. They should've been born and raised elsewhere. I need that money for the yacht I've had my eye on."
4. Sex education'll start giving kids the wrong idea. Telling kids about it, making all that crap available, they'll wanna start doing it.
...But not like the gun thing. Just because guns are easily accessible and constantly shown on TV and in the movies doesn't mean they're gonna start, you know, buying or using guns at school or anything. Pshaw. Totally different. They're not dumb enough for THAT. Especially if we, you know, hide them in our nightstands.
Like abstinence for guns.
5. God gave you that cancer that might make childbirth fatal. Don't disrupt His plan. He just loves that fetus more than He loves you.
6. What's "STI?" Sounds like some kind of alien code or something. If it's that bad, don't have sex with aliens. Or at all. We don't need anymore alien babies in this country.
7. Illegal immigrants don't pay the taxes [we don't want to pay, either].
8. Abortion is murder and the death penalty is...just desserts.
9. Gay marriage means they'll wanna start marrying, you know, their dogs.
Love is a good thing, as long as the parts fit and it's not for people who like "choice," gun control, and non-elitist education systems.
--
okay, so maybe i failed in understanding the other side.
but if you're on the other side, let me explain my reasoning to you.
i believe in God. i don't think my pro-choice, pro-gay, pro-welfare views contradict that fact in the slightest.
actually, for the longest time, while i was grappling with my sexuality, part of me was so empty because of how i truly felt that He renounced the very life He gave me and i tried to return the favor.
when i was at the end of my rope, plotting ways to end it all, i finally decided to read the Bible - in hopes of hearing, once and for all, from God's own assumed disembodied voice, that my life was a mistake.
but while those maybe 4 or so lines mentioned the wrongness of sodomy, they said nothing about Love.
Love of self.
Love of others.
Love of life, in general.
when Love occupied just about every other word in the rest of the book.
finally, i found the strength to be myself and Come Out and find happiness and wish the same for everyone i know and everyone i've yet to meet.
even you, People Bent on Stealing My Voice and Rights to Live.
i could never support anything that promised to make uneducated assumptions about the lives of the people i love - and i love everyone.
abortion is one of the most difficult decisions a woman can make, according to my mother who, one pregnancy prior to giving birth to my eldest sister, faced that very same decision when she and my dad just could not financially or emotionally support a baby.
when i see the pain in her eyes in recalling that choice, and hear her explain that it was what was right for them at the time, i know that this decision isn't one that's made lightly, as those men in Congress seem to believe.
more than this, i could never allow a broken system to force women into these situations in the first place.
i advocate proper education, preparedness, awareness, and protection.
like most people, i wish we lived in a world devoid of tough decisions, conflict, poverty, education gaps, and discrimination.
but we don't.
the best we can do is prepare ourselves. give ourselves a chance. respect one another. Love each other.
Friday, February 18, 2011
38. whoa. that was stupid. [for those i've repelled with awkwardness.]
i don't pick up on signals.
whenever i privately fantasize about pseudo-romantic rendezvouses [haha the plural for rendezvous makes me laugh], i fancy myself the pursuer; but in real-life situations, whenever i decide to take a plunge into the murky depths of Romance and Lesbian Night-Clubs, i'm the wall-flower, praying to Jeebus that someone will pick up on the fact that i'm too terrified to make the first move.
Big Spoon dreams with Little Spoon attitude.
actually, not even Little Spoon attitude.
just Inexcusable Idiocy.
i have that special curse, sometimes gift, where months - years, even - after the fact, i can remember the smallest details of situations gone wrong.
maybe it's because i'm constantly blaming myself for my inability to "connect," and i feel the need to dissect events that haunt me with hopes of improving myself, guarding myself against future failures.
or maybe it's just because i'm well aware of the fact that God seems to have purposely and purposefully armed me with a talent for carrying out almost cinematically ridiculous acts for the entertainment of others, and i'd feel guilty if my hilarious pain wasn't offered up for someone else's joy.
anywho.
after reading a number of drunken journal entries (that are far too embarrassing to put up here, even for me), as well as bitterly looking back through a slightly more socially aware microscope, i've decided to address certain happenstances and apologize to those who have fallen victim to my debilitating social-ineptness.
and to help those of you who find yourselves in similar circumstances.
1. one night, i was in bed with someone i was actually beginning to like.
like, like-like.
meaning that i didn't know what the fuck to do about it. granted, we were, as i said, already in bed together, and, as such, you'd think that any awkward tension was obliterated; however, being that i was just waking up from a drunken stupor and was therefore once again aware of my own inhibitions, we were back at square one.
so when she started to shiver, while on her side, facing away from me, my first thought wasn't, Oh! She wants to cuddle! Thank God! as it should've been, because lord knows i would've jumped at the chance.
instead, i felt guilty that she was so cold even though she was already under the covers.
so as quietly as i could, i went and found another blanket and covered her with it.
genuinely thinking that this was the most thoughtful and correct course of action.
...yeah.
2. not too long after #1, in the same evening, that is [yes, i know, poor whoeversheis], i went to the bathroom, convinced she was still asleep. when i returned, she was almost entirely on my side of the bed.
i figured she just moved in her sleep, so i did my best to un-awkwardly maneuver myself so that i was at least partially on the mattress, still worried i might disturb her.
but she wasn't even completely asleep, and when she stirred a bit i hesitated before asking, as politely as possible, "Um...would you mind, like...moving over a little bit?"
and i discovered just a second later that there was no polite way to ask that.
and i realized several months later that it might have been another one of those signs.
3. the next morning ["Holy shit, Vickie, seriously?!"], when we were in front of her building, there was a brief, tense moment of silence. suddenly, she lunged at me with a kiss. i was so taken aback i only managed to summon enough consciousness to nervously laugh and say, "Okay. See you later!"
walking away, i was already slowly dying inside.
4. moving on to another unlucky lady:
out of the blue, she asked me out.
surprised and sincerely interested - being that this was the first time anyone had been forward enough to do so - i consented.
the date went well. very well.
but when i realized that i might actually really like her, in true Vickie form i retreated to my inner fortress and shut down.
so, at the end of the night, when i was dropping her off and she asked, so directly, if i wanted to kiss her, i was overcome with two thoughts: the first, Oh my God. She already knows me well enough to be this direct. I feel so exposed.; and the second, Uhhhhhhh...
unfortunately, the second thought found its way out, filled the air with unnecessary tension, and i convinced myself that i fucked things up and there was no way in hell she was still into me.
so no, we didn't kiss.
and yes, i do use, "Uhhh..." as a legitimate form of communication.
5. "I like you, Vickie."
"Aww. I like you, too!"
"Oh, man. 'Cos last year, when I told my friends about it, I finally decided to make a move on you at the next USC party, but you had just officially gotten with someone else."
beat.
"Oh! You meant that like!"
6. when a girl invited me over to her place for a night of SNL, i figured she just wanted to be friends.
i had only very recently Come Out, so i was desperate for comrades.
and when she inched so close to me on the couch, to the point where she was practically sitting on one of my arms, i wondered if that was just how lesbians bonded.
7. Text: I'm stuck in traffic - I could really use some entertainment ;P
My reply: Oh...that's unfortunate. I'm sorry. :/ LA traffic sucks.
8. "Oh, man, I really wanna dance right now!"
"Go for it - I can't really dance."
---
and this is just a small sampling, mind you. i have 3 journals worth of bitter introspection and regret.
it always amazes me just how wonderfully and relentlessly i fuck things up.
if you have been on the receiving end of my clueless anti-whims, please know how deeply sorry i am.
talking to people on a one-on-one basis has never been easy for me; that middleground, between acknowledging that i can be too guarded only to discover, in an effort to remedy that flaw, that i'm also susceptible to word vomit, is yet to be charted.
try as i might to prevent myself from putting up my walls, keeping a wary eye on myself more than on the situation at hand, i tend to grasp for any possible thought to keep things going. and more often than not, all i find is that no matter what, being myself around people who interest me is tough; i either don't open up enough, or i try to be so exposed that the words that fly out of my mouth, like shrapnel over a promising conversation, are false.
so, again, i'm sorry to those i may have hurt or deterred.
i can honestly say that it's not you, it's me.
Monday, January 31, 2011
37. don't put the cart before the horse. but here are some things i'm going to teach my kids or nieces and nephews [if they're ever to exist.].
i do a lot of wishful thinking.
like considering having kids someday.
even if i don't, and i commit myself to a life of hermithood, here are some things i might prioritize, based on observations and personal experiences/preferences:
1. the difference between "your" and "you're."
mama didn't [won't] raise no fool.
2. the differences between "their," "there," and "they're."
3. good storytelling, oral and written.
the written part of which will be enhanced by their knowledge of the aforementioned distinctions.
4. puns.
5. to take PepcidAC to avoid Asian Glow when drinking.
6. to not laugh like a monster, as my sister tells me i do.
(i.e. BWA-hahahaha)
7. rudimentary social skills.
the responsibility of which will be placed on their other mother's shoulders.
or, if i'm single, those of their aunts.
...better yet, family friends.
8. to be unafraid of telling bad jokes.
9. though i'd probably still prefer it if they mastered the art of joke-telling.
10. to recover after accidentally blurting out some unflattering detail about themselves.
or doing something stupid.
11. to actually not be afraid of doing something stupid in public, which will be aided by the Recovery Lesson.
12. Black, Yellow, Brown people are okay.
13. the White ones, too.
14. and Europeans.
15. foreigners and immigrants, in general.
16. it's okay to be straight.
and bi, trans, and, obviously, gay/lesbian.
17. eat whatever the hell you want.
there's nothing wrong with having more to love.
18. i'm probably going to be that annoying mother who tells their kids they're beautiful and amazing and that i love them on the daily.
even in front of their friends.
19. don't be afraid of grandma.
20. old school Nickelodeon was way better in my day.
you can watch my DVD collection instead of that new crap.
21. it's okay to cry during sports movies, no matter what Aunts Olivia and Annie say.
and mommy's friends.
22. it's okay to write cringeworthy journal entries.
in a few years you'll probably laugh at them/yourself and wear them as a badge of honor.
23. if you laugh first, no one else has the chance to laugh at you.
24. even your bad ideas are probably good ones if you're willing to laugh at yourself.
25. Harry Potter is a way of life.
26. don't be so afraid of your feelings for other people that Asian Glow comes out while you're un-inebriated.
or you run away.
and avoid them.
27. hugging/human contact can be a good thing.
28. in fact, most people would probably tell you that it IS a good thing.
29. having feelings isn't a bad thing, even if i sometimes make fun of you for it.
i only do it out of love.
30. don't be afraid of wishful thinking.
31. don't be ashamed of your taste in things.
even if no one else really understands why you love The Village so much.
--
and that's all for now.
i'll probably be working on this for the next 50-some-odd years.
like considering having kids someday.
even if i don't, and i commit myself to a life of hermithood, here are some things i might prioritize, based on observations and personal experiences/preferences:
1. the difference between "your" and "you're."
mama didn't [won't] raise no fool.
2. the differences between "their," "there," and "they're."
3. good storytelling, oral and written.
the written part of which will be enhanced by their knowledge of the aforementioned distinctions.
4. puns.
5. to take PepcidAC to avoid Asian Glow when drinking.
6. to not laugh like a monster, as my sister tells me i do.
(i.e. BWA-hahahaha)
7. rudimentary social skills.
the responsibility of which will be placed on their other mother's shoulders.
or, if i'm single, those of their aunts.
...better yet, family friends.
8. to be unafraid of telling bad jokes.
9. though i'd probably still prefer it if they mastered the art of joke-telling.
10. to recover after accidentally blurting out some unflattering detail about themselves.
or doing something stupid.
11. to actually not be afraid of doing something stupid in public, which will be aided by the Recovery Lesson.
12. Black, Yellow, Brown people are okay.
13. the White ones, too.
14. and Europeans.
15. foreigners and immigrants, in general.
16. it's okay to be straight.
and bi, trans, and, obviously, gay/lesbian.
17. eat whatever the hell you want.
there's nothing wrong with having more to love.
18. i'm probably going to be that annoying mother who tells their kids they're beautiful and amazing and that i love them on the daily.
even in front of their friends.
19. don't be afraid of grandma.
20. old school Nickelodeon was way better in my day.
you can watch my DVD collection instead of that new crap.
21. it's okay to cry during sports movies, no matter what Aunts Olivia and Annie say.
and mommy's friends.
22. it's okay to write cringeworthy journal entries.
in a few years you'll probably laugh at them/yourself and wear them as a badge of honor.
23. if you laugh first, no one else has the chance to laugh at you.
24. even your bad ideas are probably good ones if you're willing to laugh at yourself.
25. Harry Potter is a way of life.
26. don't be so afraid of your feelings for other people that Asian Glow comes out while you're un-inebriated.
or you run away.
and avoid them.
27. hugging/human contact can be a good thing.
28. in fact, most people would probably tell you that it IS a good thing.
29. having feelings isn't a bad thing, even if i sometimes make fun of you for it.
i only do it out of love.
30. don't be afraid of wishful thinking.
31. don't be ashamed of your taste in things.
even if no one else really understands why you love The Village so much.
--
and that's all for now.
i'll probably be working on this for the next 50-some-odd years.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
36. the world is a lonely place. and i hate emo, so don't worry. emo as in feely, not as in Korean aunt.
whether you're coming out as gay, nerdy, trendy, a Belieber, a knitter, etc., the world can and probably will be unkind.
it's amazing the lengths we're willing to go in order to find that sense of community, and how desperate we are when we're harboring so many secrets.
whenever i think back to my days in the Lesbian Closet, it's hard to believe that the person experiencing all those woes existed in the very same body that carries me today.
and some of the things i did to hide myself now strike me as ridiculous:
1. dating boys.
2. throwing on a parka after swim practice and sprinting through the locker room instead of lingering around to shower and change with my teammates.
because, well, girls made/make me uncomfortable.
3. when a girl i was deeply in love with at swim practice offered to let me touch her abs as she was laying down, and we were alone on the deck in just our swim suits, i panicked and blurted out that i had to use the bathroom.
4. telling my parents, at the age of 8, "I know everyone thinks I'm a lesbian, but I just want you to know that I'm NOT."
5. laughing and nodding a little too rigorously when friends commented on a boy's frumpiness.
6. blushing whenever someone asked me what boy i was crushing on.
which actually worked well, as everyone tended to misinterpret the reasons behind my shade.
7. reading Jane Austen novels.
--
and when i finally started to deal with the gay thing and decided to look into the larger community, as well as to more fully accept it, kind of:
1. i googled "gay nerds" and found a forum that featured topics like "Hott Spock" and "Willow, Will-WOW."
i felt "connected."
after watching episode after episode of The L Word, it was nice to see that not ALL lesbians were wildly attractive, articulate, well dressed women.
2. watching The L Word on mute on the basement TV when everyone was asleep.
3. i avoided that girl i liked all the more.
too many feelings to deal with.
4. watching Ellen.
5. looking at colleges that were as far away from home as possible.
as well as their respective LGBT resource centres.
6. hugging people more often.
this seems a little irrelevant, but lemme tell you: when you're so determined to keep that Gay Secret, somehow you irrationally believe that your gayness can be discovered through osmosis or something.
--
but now that the gay thing's all done and dealt with, i laugh, really, at how melodramatic i made everything seem.
my Coming Out process was really anti-climactic and unexpectedly funny.
awkward, yes, and painful at times, but still easier to cope with than anticipated.
so now i find myself finally dealing with all sorts of things that were kept on the backburner: my inability to open up; my overall awkwardness; my nerdiness; my addiction to food; my weird insecurities.
it's almost as if my bored subconscious is trying to refill the big Worry Void that Coming Out left in its wake with whatever it can find.
my biggest concern nowadays is coming to terms with my awkwardness/social skills.
Lesbianism is so passe.
it's amazing the lengths we're willing to go in order to find that sense of community, and how desperate we are when we're harboring so many secrets.
whenever i think back to my days in the Lesbian Closet, it's hard to believe that the person experiencing all those woes existed in the very same body that carries me today.
and some of the things i did to hide myself now strike me as ridiculous:
1. dating boys.
2. throwing on a parka after swim practice and sprinting through the locker room instead of lingering around to shower and change with my teammates.
because, well, girls made/make me uncomfortable.
3. when a girl i was deeply in love with at swim practice offered to let me touch her abs as she was laying down, and we were alone on the deck in just our swim suits, i panicked and blurted out that i had to use the bathroom.
4. telling my parents, at the age of 8, "I know everyone thinks I'm a lesbian, but I just want you to know that I'm NOT."
5. laughing and nodding a little too rigorously when friends commented on a boy's frumpiness.
6. blushing whenever someone asked me what boy i was crushing on.
which actually worked well, as everyone tended to misinterpret the reasons behind my shade.
7. reading Jane Austen novels.
--
and when i finally started to deal with the gay thing and decided to look into the larger community, as well as to more fully accept it, kind of:
1. i googled "gay nerds" and found a forum that featured topics like "Hott Spock" and "Willow, Will-WOW."
i felt "connected."
after watching episode after episode of The L Word, it was nice to see that not ALL lesbians were wildly attractive, articulate, well dressed women.
2. watching The L Word on mute on the basement TV when everyone was asleep.
3. i avoided that girl i liked all the more.
too many feelings to deal with.
4. watching Ellen.
5. looking at colleges that were as far away from home as possible.
as well as their respective LGBT resource centres.
6. hugging people more often.
this seems a little irrelevant, but lemme tell you: when you're so determined to keep that Gay Secret, somehow you irrationally believe that your gayness can be discovered through osmosis or something.
--
but now that the gay thing's all done and dealt with, i laugh, really, at how melodramatic i made everything seem.
my Coming Out process was really anti-climactic and unexpectedly funny.
awkward, yes, and painful at times, but still easier to cope with than anticipated.
so now i find myself finally dealing with all sorts of things that were kept on the backburner: my inability to open up; my overall awkwardness; my nerdiness; my addiction to food; my weird insecurities.
it's almost as if my bored subconscious is trying to refill the big Worry Void that Coming Out left in its wake with whatever it can find.
my biggest concern nowadays is coming to terms with my awkwardness/social skills.
Lesbianism is so passe.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
35. friend-flirting vs. flirting-flirting. WHO WILL WIN?
if you've been following along with this blog, you're probably well acquainted with the fact that i'm kind of an idiot in matters of the heart.
not kind of.
...and not just of the heart.
if you're currently being Notes-to-Self-deflowered, well, i just told you.
you're welcome.
and now that that's established, and everyone's caught up, let's move on.
once, when i was complaining about the fact that i'm either the last to find out about other people's feelings towards me or i'm branded as the forever-friend and nothing more, my less-mushy/sympathetic sister told me two things: 1) "hahahahahaha Your love life makes me laugh"; 2) "Be wary of the difference between friend-flirting and flirting-flirting."
What the hell is "friend-flirting?" i wondered.
she told me that when someone wants to be friends with another - just friends - he/she takes an approach similar to the one they'd take if they wanted things to be romantic.
it's more toned-down, slightly less forward.
it's all about talking and getting to know someone.
hanging out, bonding, goofing off.
"So...what's flirting-flirting, then?"
my mind was blown.
"Well, I mean. If you just wanna be friends with someone, you're less likely to try so hard you make an ass of yourself, right? It's less forced. More natural."
no.
no, that's not the case.
unfortunately, for so long i was trapped in a shell that now, whenever i sense any inkling of a connection with someone, i become overzealous in my endeavours and end up making an ass of myself anyway.
in fact, i'd argue that when i first meet someone, any idea of possible romantic feelings is the farthest from my mind.
my primary goal when i meet someone is to be able to force myself to go beyond my shy borders, choke out any potential thoughts, feelings, and interests, rather than resort to my usual, safe, reserved nature.
to be friends.
apparently, this is the wrong way to go about things.
nobody else seems to feel this way.
which means that on more than one occasion, looking back, i'm sure i've come across as something of a creeper to a number of people.
or an asshole.
like that one time when a friend unwisely assigned me the role of her wingwoman, and, try as i might to encourage her target to hang out with us, my multiple texts/invitations/urgings probably only made it look as though i was the predator.
bad friend-flirting.
or that time at Game Stop when a friendly guy came up and struck up a conversation, and i thought it was perfectly acceptable to reciprocate, only to find out that he was hitting on me.
"Are you single?"
"Uhh," with sudden realization, "I am, but...I'm also a lesbian."
[i'm still not sure why i decided to let him know that i'm also a lesbian.]
more bad friend-flirting.
other examples include more times when i've inadvertently led someone on, only to upset them and burn bridges: bridges i didn't even know were burned til much later when a close friend chastises me for my foolishness.
there are times when, apparently, i'm too good at friend flirting.
or i'm bad at it, sometimes crossing that line.
...i'm not sure if that thought process was easy to follow.
oh, well.
in terms of flirting-flirting, well, i'm still working on this.
sadly, once i've decided that i've somewhat succeeded, in any small way, in friend-flirting, as well as the fact that i'm actually deeply attracted to whoever's fallen victim to my awkward friend-woos, things become more complicated.
not because i'm ambiguous or because i "play the game."
but because i do exactly the opposite of those things.
everyone's playing Halo.
i'm still stuck on Parcheesi.
while, apparently, i've been practicing my friend-flirting for a number of years, my flirting-flirting's been put on the backburner.
or i've just got a totally different perspective on how it should all play out.
i was raised in a Korean household, meaning i was always taught that people can and should be as blunt and unrelenting as my mother.
also, dating/flirting/extracurricular social life were all big no-nos in our house, so i didn't get much of a chance to get out there in the first place.
also, there was that whole Closet debaucle.
anywho.
whenever i try to flirt-flirt, i find myself battling inner-demons: those instincts of just throwing everything onto the table instead of showing my cards in moderation.
i blush, laugh too loudly, make awkward, sappy admissions.
basically, my wooing abilities carry with them the power to scare any lesbian away.
a true gift.
navigating that line between friend-flirting and flirting-flirting is hard.
impossible.
i either go too far, or not far enough, or too far without realizing it and regretting it later, or just make an ass of myself.
to those of you i might have frightened away - and what're the chances, really, of you completely avoiding me only to occasionally read my blog - i apologize.
i have the social skills of a very confused kindergartener.
creeping you out was never on my to-do list.
i should probably take to being clear in my intentions whenever i try to hang out with people.
"Hi, I'm Vickie! I'm not hitting on you right now, I just want to be friends."
or.
"Hi, I'm Vickie! I'm actually hitting on you right now, but please let me know if I go too far so I can make a note of it for future friend-deavours or girlfriend-deavours."
sad.
this is gonna be a long road.
not kind of.
...and not just of the heart.
if you're currently being Notes-to-Self-deflowered, well, i just told you.
you're welcome.
and now that that's established, and everyone's caught up, let's move on.
once, when i was complaining about the fact that i'm either the last to find out about other people's feelings towards me or i'm branded as the forever-friend and nothing more, my less-mushy/sympathetic sister told me two things: 1) "hahahahahaha Your love life makes me laugh"; 2) "Be wary of the difference between friend-flirting and flirting-flirting."
What the hell is "friend-flirting?" i wondered.
she told me that when someone wants to be friends with another - just friends - he/she takes an approach similar to the one they'd take if they wanted things to be romantic.
it's more toned-down, slightly less forward.
it's all about talking and getting to know someone.
hanging out, bonding, goofing off.
"So...what's flirting-flirting, then?"
my mind was blown.
"Well, I mean. If you just wanna be friends with someone, you're less likely to try so hard you make an ass of yourself, right? It's less forced. More natural."
no.
no, that's not the case.
unfortunately, for so long i was trapped in a shell that now, whenever i sense any inkling of a connection with someone, i become overzealous in my endeavours and end up making an ass of myself anyway.
in fact, i'd argue that when i first meet someone, any idea of possible romantic feelings is the farthest from my mind.
my primary goal when i meet someone is to be able to force myself to go beyond my shy borders, choke out any potential thoughts, feelings, and interests, rather than resort to my usual, safe, reserved nature.
to be friends.
apparently, this is the wrong way to go about things.
nobody else seems to feel this way.
which means that on more than one occasion, looking back, i'm sure i've come across as something of a creeper to a number of people.
or an asshole.
like that one time when a friend unwisely assigned me the role of her wingwoman, and, try as i might to encourage her target to hang out with us, my multiple texts/invitations/urgings probably only made it look as though i was the predator.
bad friend-flirting.
or that time at Game Stop when a friendly guy came up and struck up a conversation, and i thought it was perfectly acceptable to reciprocate, only to find out that he was hitting on me.
"Are you single?"
"Uhh," with sudden realization, "I am, but...I'm also a lesbian."
[i'm still not sure why i decided to let him know that i'm also a lesbian.]
more bad friend-flirting.
other examples include more times when i've inadvertently led someone on, only to upset them and burn bridges: bridges i didn't even know were burned til much later when a close friend chastises me for my foolishness.
there are times when, apparently, i'm too good at friend flirting.
or i'm bad at it, sometimes crossing that line.
...i'm not sure if that thought process was easy to follow.
oh, well.
in terms of flirting-flirting, well, i'm still working on this.
sadly, once i've decided that i've somewhat succeeded, in any small way, in friend-flirting, as well as the fact that i'm actually deeply attracted to whoever's fallen victim to my awkward friend-woos, things become more complicated.
not because i'm ambiguous or because i "play the game."
but because i do exactly the opposite of those things.
everyone's playing Halo.
i'm still stuck on Parcheesi.
while, apparently, i've been practicing my friend-flirting for a number of years, my flirting-flirting's been put on the backburner.
or i've just got a totally different perspective on how it should all play out.
i was raised in a Korean household, meaning i was always taught that people can and should be as blunt and unrelenting as my mother.
also, dating/flirting/extracurricular social life were all big no-nos in our house, so i didn't get much of a chance to get out there in the first place.
also, there was that whole Closet debaucle.
anywho.
whenever i try to flirt-flirt, i find myself battling inner-demons: those instincts of just throwing everything onto the table instead of showing my cards in moderation.
i blush, laugh too loudly, make awkward, sappy admissions.
basically, my wooing abilities carry with them the power to scare any lesbian away.
a true gift.
navigating that line between friend-flirting and flirting-flirting is hard.
impossible.
i either go too far, or not far enough, or too far without realizing it and regretting it later, or just make an ass of myself.
to those of you i might have frightened away - and what're the chances, really, of you completely avoiding me only to occasionally read my blog - i apologize.
i have the social skills of a very confused kindergartener.
creeping you out was never on my to-do list.
i should probably take to being clear in my intentions whenever i try to hang out with people.
"Hi, I'm Vickie! I'm not hitting on you right now, I just want to be friends."
or.
"Hi, I'm Vickie! I'm actually hitting on you right now, but please let me know if I go too far so I can make a note of it for future friend-deavours or girlfriend-deavours."
sad.
this is gonna be a long road.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
34. My mom is deep.
what's this? a second blogpost in just 24 hours?
huzzah!
i've recently received some good news, so i'm in a giving mood.
this post is inspired by a new find of mine, Tiger Mom Says, so it features some pretty impressive tidbits of advice my mother's graced my sisters and me with over the course of our lives.
here we go:
1. "You will not play the flute. You will play the saxophone like my favorite artist, Kenny G."
2. "What is Swarthmore? I know what Harvard is. Not Swarthmore!"
3. "You don't need a boyfriend. You need to become a well-rounded person. Special in everything so that you can host Saturday Night Live someday."
4. "Why are you going to social work school? Why does everything have to be the hard way with you?!"
5. "Why are you going to be a teacher? Why does everything have to be the poor way with you? Don't you want to own a boat someday?"
6. "You won't sing. You play instrument and learn real skill."
7. "University of Chicago? Why you going so far away for state school not even as good as UVA?"
8. "You think B+ is okay? B going to take you to community college!"
9. "You want to join drama club? You make enough drama at home with your grades!"
10. "Japan? I can't talk to you anymore."
11. "Don't cry; it makes you look guilty."
12. "Speak up; shy people weird everyone else out."
13. "I knew you were gonna grow out of the lesbian thing like your grandma grew out of the lesbian thing."
14. "Nobody puts my baby in the corner."
15. "You wanna go to college to get job being funny? I'm funny, why don't you pay me? You can't? Exactly."
huzzah!
i've recently received some good news, so i'm in a giving mood.
this post is inspired by a new find of mine, Tiger Mom Says, so it features some pretty impressive tidbits of advice my mother's graced my sisters and me with over the course of our lives.
here we go:
1. "You will not play the flute. You will play the saxophone like my favorite artist, Kenny G."
2. "What is Swarthmore? I know what Harvard is. Not Swarthmore!"
3. "You don't need a boyfriend. You need to become a well-rounded person. Special in everything so that you can host Saturday Night Live someday."
4. "Why are you going to social work school? Why does everything have to be the hard way with you?!"
5. "Why are you going to be a teacher? Why does everything have to be the poor way with you? Don't you want to own a boat someday?"
6. "You won't sing. You play instrument and learn real skill."
7. "University of Chicago? Why you going so far away for state school not even as good as UVA?"
8. "You think B+ is okay? B going to take you to community college!"
9. "You want to join drama club? You make enough drama at home with your grades!"
10. "Japan? I can't talk to you anymore."
11. "Don't cry; it makes you look guilty."
12. "Speak up; shy people weird everyone else out."
13. "I knew you were gonna grow out of the lesbian thing like your grandma grew out of the lesbian thing."
14. "Nobody puts my baby in the corner."
15. "You wanna go to college to get job being funny? I'm funny, why don't you pay me? You can't? Exactly."
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
33. hot damn i'm stupid.
I wouldn’t call myself a cuddle connoisseur.
Addict, yes, but my limited experiences don’t match up to those of my well handled utensil contemporaries.
But don’t worry: this isn’t going to be a too-long self-deprecating piece overridden with annoying insertions and lacking in embarrassingly silly and valuable learning-tidbits.
If anything, I’m proud of the progress I’ve managed to make over the past few years since my very first Spooning experience.
[Which was, I’ll say now, one of the most terrifying but enlightening experiences of my life.]
When I was in the process of sailing to the island of Lesbos, armed only with Birkenstocks and flannel - or the superficial knowledge of the lesbian being - sex was the last thing on my mind.
Raised in the clutches of a South Korean and a Dominican Army Colonel, who taught my sisters and me that handholding counts as a base and hugging leads to sex, zero attention was paid to the goings-on of my south of the border interests.
At the beginning of my sophomore year of college, the only thing I was concerned with was making my very first batch of gay friends.
So when a fellow, however more-experienced lesbian invited me over to her place to watch SNL instead of going partying with the other gays I met at one of my first-ever LGBT meetings, I didn’t take it to mean anything more than, “Yay! I have a new lesbian friend!”
When we got to her place, she switched the TV on, offered me a glass of wine, and told me to make myself at home on her 4-person couch.
Hospitable, I thought.
She sat at one end and I absentmindedly found myself at the exact opposite end.
As the show wore on, though, I noticed that the gap between us started shrinking.
Well, I guess that WAS an oddly huge space.
And when it got to the point where she was practically sitting on my right arm, and I awkwardly gripped onto the armrest with my left, I wondered if this was just how lesbians bonded.
After the show ended we talked a bit, but at 2am I felt that I’d intruded too long.
“Well, it’s getting pretty late...I should probably get out of your hair.”
“No, it’s too late for you to try to get home,” she said sweetly, “but you can sleep here.”
I hesitated before privately applauding her generosity.
She disappeared into her bedroom, and, assuming I was supposed to sleep on her couch, I made myself comfortable.
But, seconds later, she returned.
“No, no, you can sleep in my room.”
I hesitated again, an unfamiliar tingling going down my spine.
I ignored it.
...She probably has a futon.
And then it occurred to me that I might be sleeping in very close quarters to someone else for the first time.
Please, for the love of God, have a futon.
I followed her into her bedroom, which was devoid of futon; just a red sportscar bed, with high walls to prevent escape.
...Falling off.
I didn’t sleep that night, especially with her body pressed into my back.
Instead, I laid rigidly on my side, my nose touching the bed’s wall.
After, my friends abused me for my cluelessness and urged me to, “Go for it.”
Given that this was the very first time someone of the same-sex was showing interest in me, I was a little eager to see where it went.
The more Spooner and I talked, the more I appreciated her patience and intentions.
She was kind, knowledgeable, encouraging, and understanding.
I confessed things I’d never shared before, and found myself in the new position of wanting and being able to pursue a completely open and sincere relationship with someone, even in non-romantic terms.
Finally, a connection.
We hung out a couple more times, holding hands, me continuing to spout out awkward sappy lines and thoughts.
It was a nice, strange feeling, all those firsts.
Sharing firsts, hugging firsts, handholding firsts, flirting firsts.
Later, when she asked me what I was going to be up to over the weekend, I blurted out the fact that my roommates were all going out of town and I was probably just going to have quiet nights-in with some movies and food.
She said she wanted to keep me company and I, being slightly more savvy by this point, conceded.
When she arrived, I gave her my obscenely full binder of movies and told her that she could choose.
I didn’t expect her to pick the raciest movie in my collection, Y Tu Mama Tambien (which, if you haven’t seen it, is about 85% porn (but, of course, I only own it for its artistic value)).
But she did.
I put the movie on, we ate, and eventually we found ourselves on the couch.
It was my first intentionally-cuddling experience.
She laid across my lap, and the fact that this was physically the closest I’d ever been to someone didn’t escape me.
I relished it.
Though I still had no idea what I was doing.
My hand was around her waist at the beginning of the film, but as the minutes trickled by I noticed that, somehow, my hand was mysteriously finding its way further up her body.
And my heart was up in my throat.
I tested it, concentrating on my hand to make sure that I wasn’t the one responsible.
Sure enough, I was positive that it wasn’t me.
And I was positive that it wasn’t going to stop any time soon.
And, sure enough, I was very much aware that the latest part of the body that I was touching wasn’t flat like the rest.
Like some X-rated Ouiji board, my hand found its way to a new revelation: real-life second base.
I panicked.
My hand was as stiff as my back had been on our very first night together.
And it stayed that way all the way through the end of the credits.
Finally, we got up and moved, commented on how late it was, and agreed to get to bed.
Wait, MY bed?! I thought to myself, trying hard [and probably failing] at keeping my face neutral.
We went into my bedroom, and, unlike Spoon Mishap #1, I was very much aware of the event’s significance.
She climbed onto my too-high bed and I clumsily followed suit.
She laid down, fully relaxed, and I tried my best to do the same.
She was on her side, facing me, while I concentrated very deeply on the various cracks in my ceiling.
My heart rate accelerated; I could feel it fighting its way through my chest.
I couldn’t help thinking that she was quietly watching me.
So close.
This is it, a small voice told me.
Wait, what is “it?” a more urgent and anxious voice asked.
Desperate, I wracked my brains for the few potentially telling clues I picked up during the past few weeks.
Nothing came to me.
I decided to attempt to subtly watch Spooner for hints; maybe she knew what this was all about.
It was an impossible task, I discovered, as I slowly craned my neck as carefully as possible, trying to get a glimpse of her.
She caught me, though, and I knew it.
Tensed even more.
I thought I sensed her smiling.
I tried to breathe.
The jig was up; I surrendered and strained a smile at my own awkwardness before facing her.
A long pause.
This IS it.
“Here,” she whispered, placing a gentle hand on the back of my neck, pulling me towards her.
Closer.
Oh, God, I thought, and, Please don’t let me be bad at this.
I’m pretty sure I was, but I couldn’t have really cared less.
In a lot of ways, I was more preoccupied with the fact that it was happening, period.
Here it was: a testament to the progress I made in Coming Out of both my shell and the Closet.
Close.
I’m still very much an idiot when it comes to all matters of of showing affection; I’m either too timid to show the truth or I’m overzealous and end up mucking things up.
And now Spooner’s off to greener pastures, I’m sure, and I’m still navigating through this mess that is my timidness.
But I’m closer, I think, to figuring things out: laughing at my poor choices and learning from them.
At least, that’s what I’m starting to tell myself.
Every time I stay true to my cluelessness and muck things up.
::Sigh::
Addict, yes, but my limited experiences don’t match up to those of my well handled utensil contemporaries.
But don’t worry: this isn’t going to be a too-long self-deprecating piece overridden with annoying insertions and lacking in embarrassingly silly and valuable learning-tidbits.
If anything, I’m proud of the progress I’ve managed to make over the past few years since my very first Spooning experience.
[Which was, I’ll say now, one of the most terrifying but enlightening experiences of my life.]
When I was in the process of sailing to the island of Lesbos, armed only with Birkenstocks and flannel - or the superficial knowledge of the lesbian being - sex was the last thing on my mind.
Raised in the clutches of a South Korean and a Dominican Army Colonel, who taught my sisters and me that handholding counts as a base and hugging leads to sex, zero attention was paid to the goings-on of my south of the border interests.
At the beginning of my sophomore year of college, the only thing I was concerned with was making my very first batch of gay friends.
So when a fellow, however more-experienced lesbian invited me over to her place to watch SNL instead of going partying with the other gays I met at one of my first-ever LGBT meetings, I didn’t take it to mean anything more than, “Yay! I have a new lesbian friend!”
When we got to her place, she switched the TV on, offered me a glass of wine, and told me to make myself at home on her 4-person couch.
Hospitable, I thought.
She sat at one end and I absentmindedly found myself at the exact opposite end.
As the show wore on, though, I noticed that the gap between us started shrinking.
Well, I guess that WAS an oddly huge space.
And when it got to the point where she was practically sitting on my right arm, and I awkwardly gripped onto the armrest with my left, I wondered if this was just how lesbians bonded.
After the show ended we talked a bit, but at 2am I felt that I’d intruded too long.
“Well, it’s getting pretty late...I should probably get out of your hair.”
“No, it’s too late for you to try to get home,” she said sweetly, “but you can sleep here.”
I hesitated before privately applauding her generosity.
She disappeared into her bedroom, and, assuming I was supposed to sleep on her couch, I made myself comfortable.
But, seconds later, she returned.
“No, no, you can sleep in my room.”
I hesitated again, an unfamiliar tingling going down my spine.
I ignored it.
...She probably has a futon.
And then it occurred to me that I might be sleeping in very close quarters to someone else for the first time.
Please, for the love of God, have a futon.
I followed her into her bedroom, which was devoid of futon; just a red sportscar bed, with high walls to prevent escape.
...Falling off.
I didn’t sleep that night, especially with her body pressed into my back.
Instead, I laid rigidly on my side, my nose touching the bed’s wall.
After, my friends abused me for my cluelessness and urged me to, “Go for it.”
Given that this was the very first time someone of the same-sex was showing interest in me, I was a little eager to see where it went.
The more Spooner and I talked, the more I appreciated her patience and intentions.
She was kind, knowledgeable, encouraging, and understanding.
I confessed things I’d never shared before, and found myself in the new position of wanting and being able to pursue a completely open and sincere relationship with someone, even in non-romantic terms.
Finally, a connection.
We hung out a couple more times, holding hands, me continuing to spout out awkward sappy lines and thoughts.
It was a nice, strange feeling, all those firsts.
Sharing firsts, hugging firsts, handholding firsts, flirting firsts.
Later, when she asked me what I was going to be up to over the weekend, I blurted out the fact that my roommates were all going out of town and I was probably just going to have quiet nights-in with some movies and food.
She said she wanted to keep me company and I, being slightly more savvy by this point, conceded.
When she arrived, I gave her my obscenely full binder of movies and told her that she could choose.
I didn’t expect her to pick the raciest movie in my collection, Y Tu Mama Tambien (which, if you haven’t seen it, is about 85% porn (but, of course, I only own it for its artistic value)).
But she did.
I put the movie on, we ate, and eventually we found ourselves on the couch.
It was my first intentionally-cuddling experience.
She laid across my lap, and the fact that this was physically the closest I’d ever been to someone didn’t escape me.
I relished it.
Though I still had no idea what I was doing.
My hand was around her waist at the beginning of the film, but as the minutes trickled by I noticed that, somehow, my hand was mysteriously finding its way further up her body.
And my heart was up in my throat.
I tested it, concentrating on my hand to make sure that I wasn’t the one responsible.
Sure enough, I was positive that it wasn’t me.
And I was positive that it wasn’t going to stop any time soon.
And, sure enough, I was very much aware that the latest part of the body that I was touching wasn’t flat like the rest.
Like some X-rated Ouiji board, my hand found its way to a new revelation: real-life second base.
I panicked.
My hand was as stiff as my back had been on our very first night together.
And it stayed that way all the way through the end of the credits.
Finally, we got up and moved, commented on how late it was, and agreed to get to bed.
Wait, MY bed?! I thought to myself, trying hard [and probably failing] at keeping my face neutral.
We went into my bedroom, and, unlike Spoon Mishap #1, I was very much aware of the event’s significance.
She climbed onto my too-high bed and I clumsily followed suit.
She laid down, fully relaxed, and I tried my best to do the same.
She was on her side, facing me, while I concentrated very deeply on the various cracks in my ceiling.
My heart rate accelerated; I could feel it fighting its way through my chest.
I couldn’t help thinking that she was quietly watching me.
So close.
This is it, a small voice told me.
Wait, what is “it?” a more urgent and anxious voice asked.
Desperate, I wracked my brains for the few potentially telling clues I picked up during the past few weeks.
Nothing came to me.
I decided to attempt to subtly watch Spooner for hints; maybe she knew what this was all about.
It was an impossible task, I discovered, as I slowly craned my neck as carefully as possible, trying to get a glimpse of her.
She caught me, though, and I knew it.
Tensed even more.
I thought I sensed her smiling.
I tried to breathe.
The jig was up; I surrendered and strained a smile at my own awkwardness before facing her.
A long pause.
This IS it.
“Here,” she whispered, placing a gentle hand on the back of my neck, pulling me towards her.
Closer.
Oh, God, I thought, and, Please don’t let me be bad at this.
I’m pretty sure I was, but I couldn’t have really cared less.
In a lot of ways, I was more preoccupied with the fact that it was happening, period.
Here it was: a testament to the progress I made in Coming Out of both my shell and the Closet.
Close.
I’m still very much an idiot when it comes to all matters of of showing affection; I’m either too timid to show the truth or I’m overzealous and end up mucking things up.
And now Spooner’s off to greener pastures, I’m sure, and I’m still navigating through this mess that is my timidness.
But I’m closer, I think, to figuring things out: laughing at my poor choices and learning from them.
At least, that’s what I’m starting to tell myself.
Every time I stay true to my cluelessness and muck things up.
::Sigh::
Monday, January 3, 2011
32. Coming Out means you go through a second phase of adolescence. or my parents are just overcompensating.
before i Came Out, i seldom said a word about crushes.
or myself.
nobody - my parents, in particular - knew a thing about my taste in...anything.
i kept to myself, opted to impersonate my mother rather than offer up my own thoughts and feelings.
as such - that is, after shipping off to college and the island of Lesbos - after practicing trial-and-error for as long as i have (emphasis on the error), i'm realizing that these feelings of uncertainty and dumbassness and self-absorption in the context of relationships and self must be akin to those my hetero peers mucked around in several years ago.
after you Come Out of the Closet you Dive Blindly Into a Dark, Complicated, Terrifying Bedroom.
and, well, world, i guess.
if i was the kind to tap into that level of sappiness.
which i'm not.
aloud.
anywho.
my understanding of Involved Parenthood of Hetero Teenagers is that mom and dad are so nosy they can't help but say and do embarrassing things in the pursuit of buried, angsty feelings and preferences.
at least, that's how it goes in movies.
with the parents constantly making assumptions and causing their spawn to blush or throw unnecessarily emotional fits.
being that my parents were under the impression that they managed to raise three of the most a-sexual, pure young women imaginable, none of the Toro girls faced much interrogation growing up.
it was only when one of my sisters accidentally let some key piece of information slip that my parents became curious.
for me, that curiosity or concern for my love life didn't come about until i Came Out, and my parents were suddenly aware of the fact that, contrary to 18 some odd years of denial and silence, i actually DID have some kind of "drive."
so those cringeworthy conversations came about.
but instead of being completely agonizing, looking back i'm pretty sure it was all hilarious.
1. just months after i Came Out, my dad and i were at Borders partaking in some Daddy-Daughter Bonding Time [as he called it].
at one point, he called me over to the calendar rack - a crazy look in his eye.
"Pssst, Vickie! Hey, Vickie!"
"...Yes?"
"Come over here!"
"What is it?"
he pointed.
right at a Sports Illustrated calendar.
i blushed.
"Oh...um...great, dad. Awesome."
"You know what I JUST realized?" he asked, in one of those non-whispers-that-was-supposed-to-be-a-whisper.
"What?"
"When I say things about women, you could be thinking the SAME THING."
afterward, when i tried to change the conversation, my dad was determined to uncover my taste in women.
and was excited to find that i was, in fact, my father's daughter.
i was nauseous.
2. at Bath and Body Works, during yet another Daddy-Daughter outing, my dad caught me looking through some scents.
"Whacha got there?"
"Hm? I dunno. Nothing. Just looking."
he grabbed another bottle of the same scent and sprayed it.
sniffed it.
"Hm...Maybe not that one."
"Okay."
"'Cos you know, women like scents. If you wanna get girls, you have to have your own scent. So make it a really good one."
i stared.
"Here! This one's pretty good. I'll go pay for it."
3. my mother doesn't like too many people.
actually, for the longest time, i wasn't even sure if she liked me all that much.
but i digress.
one day, my oldest sister brought her boyfriend over for the holidays.
after, while my mom and i were in a car together, i asked her what she thought of him.
"Eh, I don't like him."
"Really?" i asked, "He's so nice, though! And Olivia likes him a lot."
"I know. But ugh. Beside, I'm yoh mommy. I'm gonna hate any boy you bring home."
"Ha! Well, that's lucky for me!"
at the red light, she stopped, looked me square in the eye.
"Girls, too."
and i knew that she was finally okay with my gayness.
4. i was lamenting the fact that i was single and clueless and hopeless.
my mother's words of comfort were a little uncouth.
"You know, iss actually kinda lucky you're a lesbian."
"...Why?"
"Women tend to like awkward, nerdy people better. Eben the pretty ones. Look at me and yoh daddy."
5. i told my dad that i'd drunkenly gotten a girl's number, but that i wasn't sure about giving her a call.
he was pumped that i shared this with him.
"Ha! You and I ARE alike!" he exclaimed, "When I was your age, and I'd get home from some party, I'd find girls' phone numbers IN MY CLOTHES. It was crazy, but I didn't know what it meant. My friends were like, 'Man, you should totally call her.' And I'd be like, '...Why?' It was hopeless. Ha! It's nice at least ONE of you girls took after me. Nice for me, not for you."
6. my mom told me she was a little surprised by my first girlfriend.
because she had always hoped i wouldn't pick someone like my mother.
i didn't see the resemblance til after that conversation.
and then it was all i saw.
7. the usual talks about how i'm a "wonderful girl, of whom no one is deserving."
gross.
and this is all i've got for now.
or myself.
nobody - my parents, in particular - knew a thing about my taste in...anything.
i kept to myself, opted to impersonate my mother rather than offer up my own thoughts and feelings.
as such - that is, after shipping off to college and the island of Lesbos - after practicing trial-and-error for as long as i have (emphasis on the error), i'm realizing that these feelings of uncertainty and dumbassness and self-absorption in the context of relationships and self must be akin to those my hetero peers mucked around in several years ago.
after you Come Out of the Closet you Dive Blindly Into a Dark, Complicated, Terrifying Bedroom.
and, well, world, i guess.
if i was the kind to tap into that level of sappiness.
which i'm not.
aloud.
anywho.
my understanding of Involved Parenthood of Hetero Teenagers is that mom and dad are so nosy they can't help but say and do embarrassing things in the pursuit of buried, angsty feelings and preferences.
at least, that's how it goes in movies.
with the parents constantly making assumptions and causing their spawn to blush or throw unnecessarily emotional fits.
being that my parents were under the impression that they managed to raise three of the most a-sexual, pure young women imaginable, none of the Toro girls faced much interrogation growing up.
it was only when one of my sisters accidentally let some key piece of information slip that my parents became curious.
for me, that curiosity or concern for my love life didn't come about until i Came Out, and my parents were suddenly aware of the fact that, contrary to 18 some odd years of denial and silence, i actually DID have some kind of "drive."
so those cringeworthy conversations came about.
but instead of being completely agonizing, looking back i'm pretty sure it was all hilarious.
1. just months after i Came Out, my dad and i were at Borders partaking in some Daddy-Daughter Bonding Time [as he called it].
at one point, he called me over to the calendar rack - a crazy look in his eye.
"Pssst, Vickie! Hey, Vickie!"
"...Yes?"
"Come over here!"
"What is it?"
he pointed.
right at a Sports Illustrated calendar.
i blushed.
"Oh...um...great, dad. Awesome."
"You know what I JUST realized?" he asked, in one of those non-whispers-that-was-supposed-to-be-a-whisper.
"What?"
"When I say things about women, you could be thinking the SAME THING."
afterward, when i tried to change the conversation, my dad was determined to uncover my taste in women.
and was excited to find that i was, in fact, my father's daughter.
i was nauseous.
2. at Bath and Body Works, during yet another Daddy-Daughter outing, my dad caught me looking through some scents.
"Whacha got there?"
"Hm? I dunno. Nothing. Just looking."
he grabbed another bottle of the same scent and sprayed it.
sniffed it.
"Hm...Maybe not that one."
"Okay."
"'Cos you know, women like scents. If you wanna get girls, you have to have your own scent. So make it a really good one."
i stared.
"Here! This one's pretty good. I'll go pay for it."
3. my mother doesn't like too many people.
actually, for the longest time, i wasn't even sure if she liked me all that much.
but i digress.
one day, my oldest sister brought her boyfriend over for the holidays.
after, while my mom and i were in a car together, i asked her what she thought of him.
"Eh, I don't like him."
"Really?" i asked, "He's so nice, though! And Olivia likes him a lot."
"I know. But ugh. Beside, I'm yoh mommy. I'm gonna hate any boy you bring home."
"Ha! Well, that's lucky for me!"
at the red light, she stopped, looked me square in the eye.
"Girls, too."
and i knew that she was finally okay with my gayness.
4. i was lamenting the fact that i was single and clueless and hopeless.
my mother's words of comfort were a little uncouth.
"You know, iss actually kinda lucky you're a lesbian."
"...Why?"
"Women tend to like awkward, nerdy people better. Eben the pretty ones. Look at me and yoh daddy."
5. i told my dad that i'd drunkenly gotten a girl's number, but that i wasn't sure about giving her a call.
he was pumped that i shared this with him.
"Ha! You and I ARE alike!" he exclaimed, "When I was your age, and I'd get home from some party, I'd find girls' phone numbers IN MY CLOTHES. It was crazy, but I didn't know what it meant. My friends were like, 'Man, you should totally call her.' And I'd be like, '...Why?' It was hopeless. Ha! It's nice at least ONE of you girls took after me. Nice for me, not for you."
6. my mom told me she was a little surprised by my first girlfriend.
because she had always hoped i wouldn't pick someone like my mother.
i didn't see the resemblance til after that conversation.
and then it was all i saw.
7. the usual talks about how i'm a "wonderful girl, of whom no one is deserving."
gross.
and this is all i've got for now.
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