Wednesday, December 27, 2006

"Must be a gay thing."

I never did have that conversation with my mother. Why? An ex-girlfriend of mine once called my mother a force (imagine that being said with a South Carolinian accent) and she was damn right. My mom is absolutely unbearable sometimes, unsympathetic, overbearing, and talks over me. There are my excuses.

So am I a chicken shit for not just blurting out over manicures, "I'malesbianandthathasn'tchangedintenyearsandIwishyou'dbemoresupportive!" before stomping my pretty painted toes? 'Cause I am. Just a little bit. But whatever. My mom was being the biggest diva martyr poo this holiday and the atmosphere wasn't exactly conducive to supportive opening up. Them's the facts. However at dinner last night, which just might be the low point of a rather disastrous Christmas, she gave me a small peek into what she really thinks of my gayness.

After a few drinks with my parents and a series of tapas at Beast, I recounted one of the most awesomest experiences I've ever had in New York. It was back in October when I went to go see the Suicide Girls at Southpaw in Brooklyn. Opening for the show was a Japanese girl band whose musical style alternated between upbeat pop and death metal. It was amazing.

When I mentioned this band was opening at a burlesque show (in the interest of full disclosure), my mother turned to my father and said rather sarcastically:

"Hmmm. Must be a gay thing."

Must be a gay thing? A GAY THING? After FOUR years of not acknowledging my sexual orientation, this is what I get? Okay, I can take that. At least it means she's not laboring under any delusions. Hallelujah!

So in the spirit of the new year, here are a list of affirmations.

* I accept that my mother is crazy neurotic special in her own way and loves me in her own way and accepts my gayness in her own way.

* I accept that her accepting of my gayness is not dependent on my self worth.

* I accept that she knows that I am gay even if she isn't Best Supportive PFLAG Mother of the Year about it because really she and I have never had that relationship even when we were under the delusion of me being straight.

* I accept that my mother is a negative person, but that doesn't mean I have to be.

* I will not self censor my life when talking to my parents (eg, talking about my predilection for burlesque watching).

I am one with the zen gay buddha.

Monday, December 25, 2006

"Don't throw that away!"

More conversations with my mother.

"Hey Mom, where can I find the cold medicine?" My parents moved to a new house a couple of years ago and I still don't know where to find everything.

In the kitchen, my mom points to one of the cabinets. "Check in the box in there."

After pulling out some items from the cabinet such as a coffee thermos and an oversized bottle of acetaminophen I come across a box full of orphaned cold medicine packets and half used bottles of this and that. After settling on some Advil Cold and Sinus, I check out an old looking bottle of Cloreseptic.

"Hey, this expired in 1992. Can I throw it away?"

"Throw it away!"

I root around the box some more and discover a bottle of calcium tablets. "Hey, this expired in 1984. Can I throw it away?"

"Throw it away!"

Going through this box has been like a time capsule of pharmaceuticals that my family has taken over the last twenty years. I feel like an archaeologist as I unearth a bottle wrapped up in an open ziplock bag. "Hey, this expired in 1990. Can I throw it away?"

"Don't throw that away!"

No logic whatsoever.

"Do you see the abuse I have to put up with?!"

Merry fucking Christmas. I think this has been quite possibly the worst ever or close. Though perhaps not as bad as the Christmas of '89 when my then seven year old brother, in a fit of pique, declared that he hated all his gifts because I got a stereo and he didn't. My mother, in a fit of rage, took all his gifts and stuffed them into a garbage bag.

I LOVE my family.

I got a whiff that something was off this morning when I went into my parents' bedroom to ask my dad for a dollar to stick in the purse I was giving my mom (because it's bad luck to give a purse without any money in it).

"Your mother's not happy with me," he said.

I sighed sympathetically. "What now?"

"Because I didn't go see Christmas lights with her last night."

We both exchanged an eye roll. "Good times!"

Prepared for a testy morning, I later brought in my wrapped presents to the living room where my mother, father, and brother were already sitting.

"Whose pile is whose?"

"My pile," my mother replied, Bloody Mary in hand, "is the pile with the least amount of gifts."

Jesus-fucking-christ. I placed a pile of presents on her "meager" pile and declared sarcastically, "Ohmygood look!! You just doubled your pile!! Merry Christmas!!"

The gift opening that followed was beyond painful. My brother, always the morose bastard, declared that he didn't like any of the clothes my mother got him, which only worsened my mother's mood. "I give up," she seethed. And every gift that my father opened elicited a sarcastic, martyr like response from her.

"Christmas is the last holiday I can spend with you all," I interjected after a particularly bad round of bitching. It was my last ditch attempt to save the morning and to get everyone to stop acting like assholes. "You're this close to ruining it."

"What makes you think that it hasn't been ruined for me?" she quipped all martyr like.

"You think I'm ruining Christmas, Mom?" Because just you wait, I think.

"No body would go see Christmas lights with me last night. I had to go all by myself. And when I asked you to polish the silver ice bucket you said, 'Is there some reason you cannot do it yourself?'"

Side note to the folks at home. When my mom asked -- wait, that's not right because she never asks you to do something, she tells you -- me to polish the silver bucket yesterday, I was feeling very awful and dizzy because I was fighting off a bad cold. I was sitting in the chair trying to make the room stop spinning because, well, I'm sick and visibly so. When she handed me the ice bucket and the polish without word, that's when I said, "Is there some reason you cannot do it yourself?" Perhaps slightly bitchy, yes, but only because every moment I've been in this house it's been do this and do that. And when I said I didn't want to go look at Christmas lights with her, it's because I'm a little bit of a holiday grinch and driving around the suburbs looking at the lights/decorations on everyone's McMansion is, surprisingly, not my idea of a good time.

"Mom, I was sick," I protested.

"I've been sick since last July!"

Lord in heaven.

Later, when my mother got up to get breakfast ready, my father looked over at me and put his finger to his temple like a gun and pulled the trigger.

Exactly, Dad. Exactly.

Sunday, December 24, 2006

"Boys should not have lady lumps."

Merry Christmas, my little blog readers. Or rather happy holidays. (Post No Bills is non denominational in its merry making. You should have seen the kickin' party I threw for Diwali. I kid, I kid.) I'm writing you from sunny boondoggle -- aka Howard Co., Maryland -- and getting geared up for tomorrow's festivities. And I just barely made it here. Turns out I have a
bad habit of getting to train stations on time and was rushing to get on my train as they announced final boarding.

I know I say it everytime I go to DC, but it's weird being back -- like trying to remember how to speak another language. Worst is when I have to remember how to get anywhere. Upon leaving boondoggle to go meet Dennise for dinner last night in Dupont Circle, I spent a good minute and a half trying to figure out how to actually drive to DC. Nevermind the GPS equipped car I was driving. But I did find DC and also found an excellent parking spot on R Street allowing me to have some much needed time with Dennise. We even went for a couple drinks at the Big Hunt afterwards, reminding me of the few things I actually miss about DC (smoking in bars not being one of them).

So I had it in my head that I would re-come out to my mother this weekend. We had appointments to get our nails done together this morning and I figured it was a perfect time to discuss my gayness. As some of you may know, our initial conversation nearly 10 years ago didn't go so well and so I'm trying to improve upon that initial badness. Unfortunately I chickened out and have opted for the wait until she has had a few martinis cop out. Seriously people. Some conversations are not best had sober.

ps -- Come to Brooklyn, Dennise!!

Wednesday, December 20, 2006

"I Heart Brooklyn Girls"

Oh yes. I really do heart Brooklyn girls. And now I can do so in calendar form. Miss Red Hook looks delightful . . . but it's Miss Carroll Gardens that I really want to take home with me.

"I know things have been difficult this year . . ."

Since it's the end of the year and the perfect time to reflect upon the highs and lows of 2006, I present to you my OFTL style recap.

Lesbians found: 500 +
Lesbians kissed: 4
Straight women kissed: 1
Gay men kissed: 1
Lesbians tackled: 3
First dates: 9
First dates that led into second dates: 1
Times I got dumped: 2
Times I dumped someone: 1
Biggest lesbian drama moment: Provincetown
Biggest concentration of lesbians found in one place: The free Toshi Reagon concert in Prospect Park last July
Dating status at the start of 2006: Single
Dating status at the end of 2006: Single

When I opened up the Christmas card that arrived from Holly, it read, "I know things have been difficult this year, but I'm glad we're friends. Here's to a great new year." Well no shit. 2006 has been anything but banal. Difficult? Yes. Exciting? Yes. Tiring? Yes.

There was something about that Christmas card, something that led a sense of finality to the year and to my relationship with Holly. But as one door closes, another one opens.

Here's to a great new year indeed.

Monday, December 18, 2006

"What up, big girl?"

Four words a woman never likes to hear.
Have you gained weight?

Oh god, yes. A little. 10 lbs since last Christmas and some extra padding on top of that -- too afraid to look at the scale. Why have I gained some weight? Because I no longer live in a 4th floor walk up and have been drinking/eating more than exercising and all the jolly holidayishness of December hasn't helped.

Remember the ass crisis? I do. Something must be done. SOMETHING!!!!! No one will fancy me at all in 2007 if I don't strike hard and fast.

But not until after Christmas. There's still some cookies I haven't sampled yet.

"What possessed you to booze it up on a Sunday night?"

Since there's been an uptick in web traffic, I think it's best to re-introduce myself.

Hello! My name is Rouge. I am a lesbian. I am single. I live in Brooklyn. I have two cats, which is as close as I'll come to the whole lesbian cliche. This blog mostly chronicles my disastrous attempts at finding love.

There you go. Enjoy!

So how have I been? Well I never did email Bernie Mac back to let her know (again) that I really wasn't interested. All you have to do is read this to know what I'm looking for. (Sadly she did not qualify) I've been in the process of figuring out what my new focus will be in 2007. Thoughts anyone? I've also been freaking out that Christmas is one week away -- freaking out that until last Friday, I had done ZERO Christmas shopping. Too busy sitting at brunch for six hours getting drunk. Other than that, there aren't any interesting developments on the love front.

Just wanted to say howdy!

Wednesday, December 13, 2006

". . . the woman behind the beauty."

Bernie Mac wrote me back. Mind you the email correspondence ratio is currently 3:1 in her favor, slipping her into that gray area that exists between interest and stalker:

Good morning Rouge. I hope you have a good work day. Its raining out. WOOHOO! I love the rain. I think I am always the only person who doesnt run for cover. If anything I start to dance and shimmy my ass off. I get looks from people probally because I cant really dance but I dont care. I love the rain. So can you tell me about yourself? Nothing you find too personal. You know general things so I can have a better idea of the woman behind the beauty.

"I have nothing against an occasional soy snack."

News flash!! Soy makes you gay!! And guess what? I was given soy formula as a baby. So there you go. All scientifically proven by one dude writing a column over on a conservative blog. Don't forget to buy your Reagan t-shirt after you're done reading.

Monday, December 11, 2006

"That said, I think we need to talk."

Ah yes. So I finally got the balls to talk to Holly about our retarded situation. We met over lunch today at my insistence that we needed to talk. It was a brief conversation, but she confirmed everything that I had guessed on my own. And thankfully we've agreed to put this pseudo-relationship out of its misery. Though I've been feeling sad of late, I currently feel so very relieved that I can move on with my life. Seriously, I feel like the last chains of a negative cycle have been broken.

I love Holly. I really do. And she's a good friend though part of me wishes it could be more, but I've accepted that this is for the best. So we decided to preserve our friendship and reconcile our feelings for each other once and for all.

"We should have talked long ago, but you were always surrounded by people. And there was always drinking involved."

"Yeah I really wanted to have this conversation sober," I replied, frankly relieved.

She continued. "Though I love you and you're one of my best friends in the whole wide world, I don't think I love you the way that you want me to love you."

"I completely agree."

"And it's been hard because I don't feel the way I should feel. It never felt right. While I don't regret what happened in Provincetown, I wasn't ready for getting into a relationship with you."

Thank fuck I am honest to goodness moving on and it feels great.

Strangely enough for all my pissing and moaning that nobody likes me, suddenly there's been a small yet noticeable uptick in interest from various people. And for your reading enjoyment, I have included below the email I received this morning:

Im sorry we didnt get the chance to talk last night at the football party. I wanted to say something and ask you something as well. First I wanted to say that when you walked in I got tunnel vision. You were the only person I was seeing. I know you probally get this a lot from women but I have to say it. I think your beautiful. Im a photographer and I see and meet beautiful women all the time so I never let myself get caught up in a woman's appearance. So what I wanted to ask you is what does a woman (me) have to do to get the chance to know you, the woman behind the beauty? I have to admit I was asking the other ladies about you after you left. If possible can we can talk some?

Thursday, December 07, 2006

"Reserved and ready."

Phew. All back to normal. Somewhat.

Things have been very interesting lately. I feel like I'm in a very transitional place and I don't know if it's because it's nearly the end of 2006 or some other cosmic force -- as if one stage of my life is ending and another beginning (I swear this has nothing to do with my entry about the Return of Saturn). I've decided to give up on Holly (again it seems), although she has been unavailable and thus have not been able to clue her in to this fact.

There's been a lot of introspection and a general sense of okay, what now? What now for my love life? What now for 2007? What are my goals? Where am I going? What do I want?

If there was Make A Wish Foundation for emotionally scarred lesbians, I would be a prime candidate. It would be called the Lesbian Make A Wish Foundation and upon when they discovered that I was most in need of having one wish granted and sent a team to Brooklyn to ask me what above all I wanted, I would tell them this:

My wish would be for the perfect Sunday. There's something about that day, something slow and sacred, that is best shared with a love one. The perfect Sunday would start out in bed with my specially wish granted lover/girlfriend/partner. We would lay around all morning alternating between naked time and brunch. Jazz would play on the radio. And when it seemed only sensible to shower and dress, we would go out into the day to walk in Prospect Park, taking in the sunshine and laying in the grass.

And then the next day I would die a horrible cancer ridden death. However I would at least die happy. Oh
please Lesbian Make A Wish Foundation. Please let me have my one wish so that I may die happy?

* * *

Side Note:

I spent yesterday migrating this blog template over to the Blogger Beta. Technological high jinks ensued and I even had to enlist the help of a fellow blogger to sort out some code issues. Although my stats were down for a while, they are back and I have been noticing an uptick in traffic from a certain blog that is getting some well deserved attention. All I have to say to the newcomers is welcome to my fucked up gay life. Enjoy!

Wednesday, December 06, 2006

"I noticed you seem to be making the arduous journey from blogger to beta."

Please stand by. Post No Bills is experiencing some minor technical difficulties.

* Jesus-fucking-Christ. Now my statcounter isn't working. Who ever said change was good?

* Whoah. Looks like a wrote a lot more in 2005 as opposed to 2006. Only three weeks left in December. Best get cracking.

Monday, December 04, 2006

"The return of Saturn."

I've been taking part in a fun game during the last year or so. It's called, "Is that a blonde hair or is it really gray?" Although I am a brunette, I can confidently say that my blonde to gray hair ratio currently stands, after much scientific consultation, at 6 to 0. Woo hoo!

But as I rejoice at one more year gray free, I know that my days are numbered. There was something about turning 28 recently that had more than one person shaking their head. "Just know that this will be the start of a hard time during your life," one person said during my birthday party.

For those who don't know, 28 years old marks the return of Saturn. Whether or not you think astrology is total bollocks, you should know that none other than Gwen Stefani named No Doubt's fourth album after this monumental astrological phenomena so therefore it must not be bollocks. Anyway, the return of Saturn means that this is a time when we take stock in our life and clear out anything that is of no use anymore. Saturn, having taken 29 years to complete its cycle around the sun, is the grim reaper so to speak. Imagine his scythe sweeping over these crucial years -- relationships end, marriages end, people change directions, the old makes way for the new in a sort of karmic spring cleaning. According to my own specific astrological positioning, I can look forward to crises of faith, reexamining of long held beliefs and philosophies. Yipee!

Anyway, I think there must be a point to this entry. I think I was in the bathroom washing my face having had a few glasses of red wine, full of maudlin thoughts, and preparing for bed, when I spotted a "is it blonde or is it gray" hair and thought about all those weighty issues that come with gray hairs. I also have been in a weird mood as I decide how I'm going to bring the axe down on the Holly situation. So there. And I shall end the blog entry by saying that for all my serious introspection, the moment has been broken by watching my cats go all kung-fu on each other.


Friday, December 01, 2006

"I heart NA."

I'm probably propagating some nefarious brand of viral marketing, but as a New Yorker all I got to say is . . . seriously? Give New York back to the Dutch? Even stranger seeing how I spent part of yesterday planning my January trip to Amsterdam. Then again, as a nation, Holland is incredibly pro-gay. Hmmmm . . .

Thursday, November 30, 2006

“the gap between expectation and reward”

There was something about that date I had a couple weeks ago that put me in old and familiar territory, that Oh shit, here we go again feeling that comes with every first date. Don't get me wrong, I had an enjoyable time, but the thought of getting out there again in the dating world was enough to make me break out into a cold sweat. In the end I really couldn't be bothered and didn't email her back. Dear readers, I just didn't care.

So why the apathy?

If burnout is the gap between expectation and reward, or rather the failure of expectation and effort to meet up with a desired result, then I am burned out. I'm burned out on love, dating, and being single. It wasn't until I read New York magazine's excellent feature on burnout that I realized my dating apathy is one of the classic signs of this phenomena. Another sign? Feeling like I have been struggling greatly for little in return.

As many of you know, I started Operation Find The Lesbians (OFTL) in January as a New Year's resolution. My goal was to get out there, wherever "out there" was, and meet other gay women. At the time I had 1.5 gay friends and a gay man + a bisexual woman did not a gay life make. So I got out there full of expectations and hit the scene with all the gusto of a marathon runner. I did online dating, the bar scene, Lesbian Club, and sleeping with friends to mixed results. You couldn't fault me for trying and I'm satisfied that at the bare minimum I achieved what I set out to do.

But I wanted something more. I wanted a girlfriend. I wanted a deeper connection with someone. This is where the burnout began. My high expectations and great effort ran into the hard wall of little reward. I think the Holly situation hastened my burnout. And even if I could walk away from her for good, what then? Go back to the parade of first dates that never materialize into anything? I'd rather take a nap with my two cats.

Monday, November 27, 2006

"You paid how much for a turkey?!"

Alright. Many things. One, a quick note to my friends. I don't do well with three days worth of alone time. Not only do I get stir crazy, but I get depressed. On Sunday night I was eating cold pumpkin pie and bourbon (a strangely delicious combination) in my semi-lit apartment ALL ALONE. I don't want to ever do that again. I had this problem last year. So when I say, "Hey, are you doing anything this weekend? I really need to get out of the house," I mean it. For the sake of my mental health, please just do something with me! I do not fare well during periods of isolation.

I'm a little broken after my three days of alone time, but give me a couple days and I'll be back to my perky self. Thanksgiving was good -- I cooked for nine of my friends. I also cooked my first turkey in addition to cranberries, cornbread, pumpkin pie, and potatoes. I fucked up the gravy, but it was a rookie mistake.

Other Things:

- Gained 15,000 pounds after spending all my alone time eating Thanksgiving leftovers.

- I did actually get out of the house on Saturday night to go see Volver at
BAM (Brooklyn Academy of Music) with my friend Carm. Incidentally Jay-Z was also at BAM the same night.

- Spent $116 at Crate & Barrel buying such necessary items as a carving fork, platter, and roasting pan. Wish I had gotten that fat separator and maybe I wouldn't have fucked up the gravy.

- Yes, I paid $45 for an 11.5 lb turkey and I bought it from the Park Slope Food Co-op, but it was an American Bronze variety and thus promoting sustainable eating and the craft food movement. And it was quite tasty.

- Realized that I should have picked up two other important items at Crate & Barrel such as a meat thermometer and a baster. Ah, the rookie mistakes.

- Yes, the Holly situation is fucked up and I haven't been blogging about it since I don't want to try your patience, dear readers, but we slept together again while we waited for the Thanskgiving guests to arrive.

- Another word on the
Holly situation: apparently Holly told a friend of mine during my birthday party that we've been seeing each other for the last few months. Hmmm. News to me. I thought I was single. I did go on a date with someone a couple of weeks ago, you know.

- I came out to some of my coworkers on Tuesday. Believe it or not this is a big step for me.

- I got my other cat fixed after I discovered him humping his brother.

So yeah, that's about it.

Monday, November 20, 2006

"The corset has landed."

Ways in which I and others commemorated the anniversary of my birth:

- Got taken out to lunch by work colleagues.

- Squeezed my D cup "girls" into a black corset, which finally arrived from CA at 11:30 am Friday.

- Located my black feather boa.

- Drank gin.

- Drank bourbon.

- Drank beer.
- Ate red velvet cupcakes.

- Watched an impromptu song and dance number by two friends of mine. A Swiffer pole was used like a cane.

- Made a fool out of myself, albeit relatively sober.

Awesome. No hangover this year and this birthday was by far the best in my 20s, which are normally disastrous.

Now that my birthday has passed, it's time to focus on Thanksgiving. This year marks the Second Annual Misfits Thanksgiving for those who don't want to spend the holiday or cannot spend the holiday with family. Dinner shall be cooked in part by moi, however the hitch with this plan is that I've NEVER cooked a turkey before and must figure out how to do so before Thursday. What the hell have I gotten myself into??

Friday, November 17, 2006

"Forgot to tell you . . . sad news."

When I was a sophomore in college, my parents bought me a new 1998 Saturn as an early graduation gift. I named her Saffy after the dourly studious character Saffron on the British television series Absolutely Fabulous. Not only was I was a big fan of the show, but the first three letters of my license plate was FAB so it seemed only appropriate to name a dour, safe car after a dour character. Though some may think getting a new car from my parents made me a spoiled kid, I will say that I got this gift during the Bad Time -- ie, the three year period after my parents found out I was gay and in which I barely spoke to them because of how they freaked out. I think the car was a peace offering and I was just glad to have some wheels.

I had Saffy her for over 6 years -- 6 years of driving around DC, driving back and forth between Roanoke, Virginia and home, and trips to Delaware for the beach. I even once drove Saffy all the way from Virginia to Cape Cod with my then girlfriend.

Before moving to New York, I sold Saffy. And when I sold Saffy, she had 50,000 + miles on her in addition to a scratch down the drivers side where someone keyed it. It was a sad parting, but very necessary one as no one owns a car in New York. She was sold to the daughter of my mother's coworker and I took the money and bought an iMac G5.

I was sad to learn that last night that Saffy met her end, wrapped around a telephone pole after hydroplaning in the rain. Her new owner was unhurt,* but Saffy was sadly totaled. She was only 9 years old.

* The airbag apparently never deployed! Eeek! Thankfully I never got into an accident when I had her.

Thursday, November 16, 2006

"What's a crinoline?"

I think I'm on the edge of a coronary. Between stress at work, hoping that my corset will arrive on time from California, those chocolate covered espresso beans, and planning my birthday, I'm two seconds away from exploding. But not before bitch slapping someone. That someone was almost the people at, where I ordered my big mamajama corset from. They assure me that everything will arrive in time having "upgraded" my shipping to overnight.

Plan B had me running around Macy's during lunch. And anyone who's visited the Macy's on 34th Street would know that it's GINORMOUS! Do they sell corsets? Of course not. Do they know what a crinoline is? Of course not. Arrrrrrgh! They do have plenty of bustiers though.

So now I am back in the office, have Drone Zone on, and desperately seeking my happy zen place.

Oh and it's worth mentioning that my date went well last night -- as well as all my previous first dates went that never materialized into anything. I didn't get home until 11:30 pm and had way too much beer on an empty stomach. No rest for the wicked, right?

Wednesday, November 15, 2006

"Today must be your lucky day."

Um, I have a date tonight. Seriously. Where did I meet this girl? She appeared suddenly like a magical flash on Lexington Avenue. Actually she contacted me through Friendster and liked me enough even though my Friendster profile is horribly out of date. I figure I have nothing to loose.

So Friday is my birthday. And what do I have planned for the big 2-8? A Burlesque Birthday Party! Bring on the half naked girls! And what will I be wearing? My very own corset and accoutrements. But here's the snag -- said corset and accoutrements should have arrived today since I paid for the 2 day FedEx shipping. Unfortunately when I called this afternoon, it was all still sitting in a California warehouse. Listen, people! Don't you know that I must look hot for my birthday?! So there is a chance that I might be wearing only my birthday suit for my birthday.

Monday, November 13, 2006

"All the love's alive tonight."

OFAG is moving along . . .

On Saturday I met Lesbian Club members at a Park Slope bar for drinks. I made sure I looked nice because who knows -- maybe the love of my life is going to show up. Later my friend Nina leaned in and told me when she was downstairs getting a drink, one of the new members asked who I was.

When Nina responded, she exclaimed, "Oh that's Rouge?!" before making a noise of approval, something like a oooooo! But the girl was shy and had Nina not said anything, I would have never known that she fancied me. It's nice to be fancied nonetheless.

New Girl later left, but her friend stayed behind. Both Nina and Wendy swept in and started inquiring about NG on my behalf.

"What do you think about NG and Rouge?"

"You know," the friend said, "when I first saw Rouge I thought she'd be perfect for NG."

All eyes were on me as we sat around the bar table. I squirmed under the spotlight.

The friend continued. "But I really think NG is straight even though she's attracted to and dates women. She needs a guy." Then came a list of things that were wrong with NG ending with, "Other than that she's be perfect for you!"

Uh . . . . . Way to sell me on the idea!

Friday, November 10, 2006

"You can't think like that!"

So yeah, I didn't vote on Tuesday. I know. I know. Bad. So very bad. My friend Nina has been riding me about it all week.

"I can't believe you didn't vote!" she gasped as we got drunk at a Park Slope bar on election night and watched the returns on CNN.

I hung my head in shame and stared into my sake glass. "I know. I'm usually really good, but they didn't send me my polling information and I got lazy." I also reminded Nina that we live in one of the bluest areas of the country and both Spitzer and Clinton were shoe-ins for governor and senator respectively. "If there was anyplace to be lazy, it was here."

"You can't THINK like that! That's how they win! I thought you of all people would be voting. Wendy even voted." Wendy is our mutual friend who, according to Nina, normally can't be bothered.

So yeah, didn't vote. I suck. One of the most important mid-term elections in the history of the country and I didn't take part. It will take me a long time to live this down and Nina is still giving me shit.

Monday, November 06, 2006

"Don't waste the pretty."

As embarrassing as it is to admit, I just finished the book He's Just Not That Into You: The No-Excuses Truth to Understanding Guys. Seriously. My friend Carolyn from Lesbian Club handed it to me over drinks, gushing over its pithy observations on love. The book was slim, missing its dust jacket, and many of its pages were dog eared. I cocked my eyebrow and gave her an incredulous look.

"But Carolyn," I reminded her, "this book is for straight women."

"You just read like it was about girls!" she exclaimed. "Dude, that stuff is spot on. It's by the people who wrote Sex and the City."

Opening the book I could feel my lesbian credentials draining like a pint glass during happy hour.

"I didn't want anyone on the subway seeing what I was reading, so I took off the dust jacket," she added.

Then why on earth did she think that I needed to read it??

Not wanting to be rude, I slid the book into my purse and thought that at best I'd leaf through a couple of pages, silently making catty remarks over the stupid things ditzy straight women do. And then I would probably pat myself on the back for being too clever for that paradigm.

Oh but wait . . . scratch that. Looks like I am part of the paradigm after all.

At only 176 pages and written in something like 12 pt double spaced, I ended up finishing the book in a couple hours. The book has a simple premise -- he's just not that into you -- and lists all the glaring ways in which he (or in this case she) demonstrates this premise. Chapter 6? Yeah that happened to me. Chapter 7? I was guilty of that. Chapter 9? One word -- Val. Chapter 10? I should photocopy it and mail it to Holly. Who knew that a book written for straight women would strike at the heart of the universality of love and all its frustrations? Who knew that "he's just not that into you" is the same as "she's just not that into you?"

So what did I learn? I learned that she's just not that into me if she's still in love with her married boss, doesn't ravish me when I'm wearing a corset, doesn't make herself emotionally available, and only expresses her feelings when she's drinking. After reading those 176 pages, I was angry at the state of my love life.

Don't waste pretty as the book says. I'm tired of being constantly disappointed by love. And I'm not going to accept anything less than awesome from now on.

Friday, November 03, 2006

"I'm kind of tired of looking at your boobs . . ."

Here's what's going on:

- I went to a screening of Fast Food Nation on Wednesday and got to watching the movie from the plush, velvet chairs of the Dolby screening room up on 55th. My review? Good acting, but the message -- often heavy handed at times -- gets lost in a somewhat messy plot. The most compelling aspect of the film was watching immigrant struggles in a Colorado town and the workings of slaughter house. Read the book, skip the movie.

- I finally invoiced my old job that I was doing freelance for. Yeee-haw! Now I can really say that I am done with gastroenterology.

- Val wrote me this morning, but it was only to request to get off my email list for Lesbian Club. She also de-friended me from MySpace, so there's that chapter closed with a loud thud.

- I really don't know what to do with my lovelife other than throw up my hands. Maybe I'll go back to my previous goal of being a slut. Or maybe it's not too late to join that praise team.

Sunday, October 29, 2006

"When your heart is an empty room."

Last night I looked hot. Seriously. Dressed as a serving wench for a Halloween party and laced tight into a corset, my ample bosom rose into a swell of cleavage that was not only awe inspiring, but should have had me flat on my back, dress pushed up around my waist. In other words, I looked fuckable. Any reasonable person would have tossed me into the bedroom and locked the door. But since I was with Holly, reason was in short supply.

There comes a point in a young woman's life when she realizes that she can't make someone love them no matter how hard she tries. It's a heartbreaking realization and my heart is breaking a little bit. I wish I could somehow explain my very complicated feelings for Holly and why I haven't been able to let go when I should have cut my losses long ago. Some of you think that I'm crazy especially since this has been going on for a while now. Why her? Why so much self inflicted consternation?

I had a brief view of how things could have been in the days after Provincetown. The connection was there loud and clear. No barriers. No interference. I finally saw what I had fought for, like the satisfying view from the top of Mount Everest, and I was the happiest I had been in a very long time. That, my friends, is why I wasn't able to let go. That sole belief that if you cleared away all the bullshit things would be amazing.

I can't keep fighting anymore. I can't make her love me. I probably have a better shot of convincing New York of my awesomeness. One day she'll realize that she had a shot at a really good thing, but I will have moved on.

So attention single lesbians of New York! Here I am. I'm not asking for much. Just to be loved and occasionally dragged into the bedroom when I'm dressed as a serving wench. I'll even make you pancakes in the morning after you have your way with me.

Friday, October 27, 2006

"How did she go from big lesbo to having a hubby?"

I'm unexpectedly weirded out to find that that my straight ex-girlfriend is getting married. That makes TWO of my exes that are either married (civil-uinioned, whatever) or on their way to getting married. Now I don't know 100% for sure that she's getting married, but I think I've interpreted the code correctly on J-Wo's blog. And it's all even more strange that I dreamed last night her and I ran into each other randomly and were chatting for a couple of minutes.

Um, so yeah, weirded out.

This brings me to the one topic that I inevitably come to -- my love life. Ten months into OFTL/OFAG and I'm single. No, the news of my ex-girlfriend getting hitched does not make me long for my own nuptials, but oh great universe, all the angels and saints, why in the name of holy fuck is my love life a general wasteland on par with an EPA Superfund site? It defies logic. Let's look at the stats:

Rouge is 27, well adjusted, not crazy, single, reasonably cute, funny, skilled, intelligent, fashionable, and can cook like no body's business.

See, I sound really good on paper! So why the singleness? Or rather why not more interest? Even my friends are surprised.

"There's nothing wrong with you."

"I can't believe you're single. You're amazing."

"If I were younger . . ."

So I'm faced with a couple of stark options:

(a) Spend the rest of my life alone
(b) Go straight
(c) Find Jesus
(d) All of the above!

Or, as Dennise miraculously scrounged out of MySpace, follow the path of one of my college classmates.

Thursday, October 26, 2006

"It's not like you don't have anything to do, right?"

I'm sitting here in a darkened office watching the lights slowly come
on in the apartments across the street from me, office buildings, and the Empire State Building. Currently the ESB is glowing red and yellow and you can see periodic flashes of light from the tourists taking pictures from the observation deck high up above. Work is mercifully quiet and I'm slowly finishing things up so that I might meet some friends for a quick drink at the Cubbyhole.

Things have been crazy busy so my screw around time on the internet (eg, blogging) has taken a hit. My cat Theo, after shredding my hand, finally was coerced into his cat carrier yesterday and thus got to the vet to be neutered. After the trauma of surgery and spending the day away from home wore off, he was back to his old self again, purring, and engaging in auto-fellatio despite the surgery. I guess some habits can't be unlearned.

I'm enjoying this moment of quiet even though I know that I have a crazy amount of things to do when I get home from work in addition to the crazy amount of things I have to do before the end of Friday. But since I'm all about preserving my sanity, I'm allowing myself a diversion to have drinks with friends.

My lovelife has gone on the back burner. A couple of people have asked what's going on with Holly and the answer is that I don't know -- honestly I've been too busy to really find out. I'm going to be seeing her on Saturday and her and I are going to be having a little conversation. Ah, but whatever. I'm merely enjoying the silence right now.

Monday, October 23, 2006

"Ready for rock and roll time music, okay?"

My cat has a new talent in addition to the auto fellatio -- pissing on my bed. Yes. I shall be killing him soon.

So off I went to the laundromat yesterday to wash my regular duvet. I thought that my other duvet -- the big feather one -- was spared, but unfortunately I discovered a damp spot on it this morning. I'm hoping that it's leftover from yesterday's pee fest (he also pissed in my friend Katharine's suitcase ensuring that she will never ever visit me again). I have no idea what has prompted this behavior, but as I write this I am terrified that he is currently pissing all over everything.

Maybe he knows that he's going to the vet tomorrow and again on Thursday to get fixed.

* * *

Over the last couple of weeks I've been thinking, "This lesbian thing is HARD." And while I've pondered what it would be like to be straight -- my burning lust for Daniel Craig aside -- I am frequently reminded that I really like tits. I was especially reminded of this as I watched the Suicide Girls on stage at Southpaw on Saturday. In case you don't know who the Suicide Girls are, they are the ladies of an altp*rn site who performed a burlesqe review, nipples conveniently hidden by an x of black electrical tape.

So yeah, tits are AWESOME! Yay for being a lesbian!! Too bad this lesbian thing is HARD. Not only am I single, but I am crazy cat lady who's bed smells of cat piss.


Friday, October 20, 2006

"Not Found."

Back in April, I did my good friend J-Wo a favor -- I kissed her. See, J-Wo has this list of howmanyever things to do before she dies and getting some hot lady lip action is one of them. What's a good friend to do? I gladly did the deed and one of friends (Mr. Bad Apologies?) took a photo, which would later get linked to J-Wo's blog.

The photo is rather tame by some standards, so I am curious as to why so many random people keep coming to my blog after clicking the photo link off Google. People all over the WORLD can't wait to get their jollies from seeing J-Wo and I kiss. And when I mean all over the world, I mean Saudi Arabia, New Hampshire, and Kuwait. For some reason my stats have had a huge increase of traffic from this link and this entry is probably only going to serve to add more traffic.

So if you're a guy looking for some hot lady on lady action, I do hope J-Wo and I satisfy. But seriously. There are much better photos on the net than two drunk girls (one of whom is straight) kissing at 2 am in the basement of a DC bar.

Wednesday, October 18, 2006

"Is naked shower man back?"

Every time the woman across the street from me enters the shower, I want to cry out to warn her. Lady! Don't you know that EVERYONE can see you naked?! You're old enough to be my mom! Oh and by the way, my boss tells me that she's seen your son (?) do naughty things in the shower. Put a curtain up for chrissakes!

It's like watching a car crash about to happen and being unable to do anything to prevent it.

This isn't a puritanical tirade. I don't care that the lady is naked, but I care that she probably doesn't know that everyone can see her shower and would probably be horrified to find out. So I'm wrestling with the idea of going over there and telling the front desk man to alert tenants that we can see them ALL naked and (apparently) masturbating in the shower. But I'm kind of lazy and mildly entertained by watching the maid clean the apartment.

I think I was going to deftly parallel this blog entry with my own special naked time adventures with recent sexual partners, but I got lazy. Instead here's an x-rated list of topics that have been floating around my brain recently:

- drunken sex versus sober sex
- my nose ring getting caught on certain body parts
- Tearing of delicate skin underneath the base of the tongue from vigorous cunnilingus and how to avoid this injury

Just something to think about.

Monday, October 16, 2006


My apologies for not updating this blog. I've been busy and a little depressed, disillusioned, dejected, and other words that start with the letter D. While my new job is awesome, other areas of my life have been less inspiring. Generally I've decided to retreat a little and keep my options open. Thus begins Operation Wait And See (OWAS) -- kind of a laissez-fair approach.

So things took an interesting turn with Holly. I got tackled last night. Yes, tackled. And she stayed over in my mojo bed. Naked. I'm not sure how I feel this morning. Defensive? Indifferent? Pleasantly surprised? Wanting more? Tired?

I know I've kind of painted Holly as persona non grata, but I promise you all -- my faithful blog readers -- that I am keeping my options open (eg, OWAS). Despite sexy time in my bed, she has given me no clear idea of what she wants. The whore in me will take sexy time when I can get it. But I'm sticking to what I said -- I'm done being the pursuer. The mountain can come to me. And it kind of did last night.

If only it will come to me more.

Friday, October 13, 2006

"Pray for a miracle."

Dear Ms. Right,

Maybe I know you already. Maybe you're secretly disguised as Holly, waiting to pull your head out of your ass and wow me with your awesomeness. Maybe I haven't met you already and you're one of the nameless faces I pass everyday. Who knows. But it's time for me to lay down the law here.

I'm tired -- no, exhausted -- of looking for you. So here's the deal: you find me. Get it? If you want me, you're going to have to put in the effort, the hard slog, and the time to find me.

These are the new rules. They are non-negotiable.



Monday, October 09, 2006

"This isn't a date, is it?"

Before heading to DC, I made plans to meetup with Mysterious Blog Reader for a long over due beer. You may remember her as one of the responders to my dating manifesto posted back in July. Her and I were supposed to meet back in mid August -- incidentally the same day as my first job interview -- but plans fell through. Fastforward to October when we finally found time in our busy schedules to catch a beer.

However there was a small wrench to this plan. Having casually mentioned to Holly that I was getting a beer with a friend after work, she wanted to come along. Normally not a problem, but in this case the friend is a blog reader. Holly doesn't know I have a blog. Oy vey.

I could have concocted an elaborate lie as to why Holly couldn't come along (or I could have just kept my mouth shut), but instead I placed a semi-frantic phone call to MBR and some ground rules were placed:

1. Don't call Holly Holly! You think I use real names on this blog??
2. Don't mention the BLOG!
3. If she asks how we met, tell her that we met online. I have a habit of meeting strangers off the internet so this won't seem so strange.

So much subterfuge. And yes I feel guilty for it and the indirect lying. Thankfully MBR did a good job of sticking to rules one through three. It was great to finally meet her and maybe I can make Holly a little jealous as MBR is very cute.

"Oh hi, [Rouge]."

On Saturday I took the train down to Maryland to attend my ten year high school reunion. Although the event was mercifully open bar, all the bourbon in the world couldn't take away those awkward feelings stirred up after 10 years of repression. Even worse, a lot of people (a) didn't recognize me (b) didn't remember me and (c) didn't care that I looked a hell of a lot more fabulous than I did circa 1996. And so I left the event weirded out, drunk, and reminded that I was really just a non entity in the minds of my classmates.

Why should I care? I don't. At least I don't think I do. But this underscores why people go to reunions in the first place -- that "Hey, I may have been a dork in high school and gotten picked on by the cheerleaders, but I'm way cooler now." No, we're still dorks, just better dressed. And for some reason I was surprised that the same people that could dent my self worth in high school could still manage to do so ten years later.

So was the event a waste of time? No, because for all weirdness, I was able to reconnect with a couple of I hadn't seen in ten years or so. That's really what reunion is all about, isn't it?

Tuesday, October 03, 2006

"[Rouge] has been given extensive creative control."

Dear woman living in the building across the street from my office,

I can see you naked. That frosted glass the builder installed in your bathroom? Not frosted enough. Even with the steam I can see you showering and your breasts are not too dissimilar from mine and you have some minor lovehandles -- that's how much I can see. I can even see that you're wearing a shower cap or something to hold your hair up. Yeah, you might want to get a curtain. Yeah.

Don't worry, this lesbian is not titillated, merely . . . I don't know . . . fascinated? But I thought you should know. I can totally see you naked.

* * *

So apart from watching women shower from the comfort of my office, I'm loving my job. In fact I got an email yesterday that mentioned, "[Rouge] has been given extensive creative control." These are words that I live to hear.

Sunday, October 01, 2006

"I like the feel of your fingernails on my back."

Dear me, that last entry was a bit vitriolic. Sorry for the vent, but I was feeling a bit woe-is-me. How about some clarification.

The situation with Holly has progressed a bit slower than hoped. In fact it's been a little over a month since the fateful Provincetown trip and I thought that her and I would have gotten our shit together by now. Or at least some hot and dirty sex. Alas it's come in drips and drabs -- a kiss or holding hands from time to time. Or last last night where we acted like stupid people in love as we played with each other's hands while sitting in a straight bar. A later drunken proposition for her to come home with me failed due to logistical problems. Sigh.

When J-Wo was visiting me on Friday, she reminded me that the whole Holly situation has a whiff of deja vu. "You realize this thing is Elizabeth redux." Elizabeth is a girlfriend from nearly four years ago and damn it if J-Wo didn't nail it on the head. So not only am I a masochist, but I'm a masochist who likes to put myself through identical grief. It doesn't help that both Holly and Elizabeth look very similar -- long red hair and pale skin. I guess this means that I have a type.

"Holly is nothing like Elizabeth," I protested even though she was right. Somewhat. "Elizabeth was crazy and liked to slip into blind rages at the drop of a hat."

"Different crazy is still crazy. You need to move on."

"I did move on! After she told me about her and her boss, I moved on. I had five first dates in January and have dated two people since. Tell me that's not moving on!"

So have I moved on? Of course not. Only the next day Holly and I were acting goofy, holding hands as we walked up Second Avenue at one in the morning and blind to lecherous looks we were getting from drunken straight boys. Damnit Holly, why can't we get our shit together?

Postscript -- Dear Melissa, bartender at Burp Castle. Thanks for totally having our backs when those drunk straight guys obnoxiously took interest in us because we were lesbians. I wanted to totally high-five you when you said to them that they were "this close to getting kicked out." And since I saw you kick out a belligerent asshole out earlier in the evening, I knew that you didn't fuck around.

Friday, September 29, 2006

"There's just nothing wrong with you. I guess you keep falling for the wrong people."

Ah, Friday. I would be rejoicing in your arrival if I did not have oodles of work to do. Laundry Pile of Doom? Yes. Outstanding freelance project that should have been done on Monday? Yes. Sort out the tattered remains of my love life? Yes.

Oh no, what happened with Holly, you ask? Well it seems that in the wake of the "I'm in love with someone else and it's not fair to you conversation," things have reverted to an almost pre-Provincetown level. Oh goody. Why do I keep banging my head against the wall and wondering why it still hurts? Because I'm a masochist.

Seriously folks. Fuck Holly. Fuck OFAG. I have two cats now, one of whom likes to sleep in the space between my curled legs, and that's all I need.

So in the meantime I can revel in the fact that my new job is AWESOME. Why it took me so long to leave my last job is beyond me. Oh that's right -- I'm a masochist.

Tuesday, September 26, 2006

"Oh well aren't we Miss Popularity?"

Although it was 5 am, someone was laughing -- a full throated belly laugh that echoed through the pre-dawn stillness and roused me from sleep. The windows were open and I could hear everything. A dog began to bark in response and a car door slammed. I slowly turned in my bed to find that Jasper had curled himself up next to me sometime during the night, but his ears were perked. Even he had been startled by the sudden outburst from the street below.

Brooklyn is never truly silent and though I am well used to the noise by now, the addition of kitties to my apartment means that every little thump wakes me up. Much to my dismay, Jasper and Theo like to wake around 6 am and start their day with a vigorous game of chase. I wonder if their previous owners were early risers because if I am not up to feed them, Jasper usually reminds me with a long high-pitched yowl that it's time for breakfast.

I've had a hard time getting up the past few days. Maybe it's the abbreviated sleep pattern, but has taken multiple cups of coffee to get my brain somewhere close to functioning. I have been spending my first couple of mornings at my new job in a slow daze and gazing out onto the Empire State Building from the tenth floor of my office building. Though I am temporarily sitting at a new coworker's desk while my new computer is set up, I just found out today that I will be occupying the next desk over in this corner office, which will afford a perch above 33rd Street and 180 degree views of Midtown and the coveted Empire State Building.

I do think I have scored a coup!

In the meantime I've had to adjust to a new neighborhood and answer the following questions: how long will it take me to get to my new job?; where will I get my morning toast?; and more importantly, where will I eat lunch?

Friday, September 22, 2006

"That girl is poison!"

Two strange stories to recount. One, my cat Theo spent a good twenty minutes fellating himself yesterday. I was unsure if I should stop him or applaud him for his safe sex practices. In any case, the boys will be getting neutered perhaps sooner rather than later.

Two, as I crossed Bleecker Street at Carmine on my way to meet Nan at the Cubbyhole, I was magically transported back to the year 1990. I was 11-years-old again and someone was playing "Poison" by Bell Biv DeVoe very loudly on a boombox. A BOOMBOX. In the age of the iPod, who the hell has a boombox these days? The answer was before me. About five or so young black gentlemen crossed the street from the other side. One had the boombox and all were dressed circa 1990 -- Hammer pants, acid washed jeans, oldskool gold chains that would make Run DMC proud, lines buzzed into their Kid 'n Play-esque 'fros. I even think one did the "Running Man" as he tried to cross a street in front of a bemused Towncar driver. And as they walked down Carmine, the sound of Bel Biv Devoe fading in the background, the world shifted back to 2006 and the rift in the space-time continuum sealed itself up.

Thursday, September 21, 2006

"I keep thinking it's Friday."

Let us pause for a moment to revel in this euphoria that I am feeling.

[ exhales ]

[ smiles ]

Brain chemicals are fun, aren't they? And my brain is definitely well aware that today is my second to last day at work and I can barely concentrate. I'm very much looking forward to getting a little wankered at my Big Fuck Off Happy Hour tomorrow In addition, not only am I'm wearing a new sweater and earrings, but I just got paid.

The kittens are adjusting well. Their official names are Jasper and Theo. They like to run around my apartment and chase each other at 6 am and I swear that they would keep eating if I continually fed them.

I have nothing else to report. Holly is away on business and won't be back till late Saturday. In the meantime, t-minus 26 hours and 12 minutes till quitin' time.

Monday, September 18, 2006

"Got kittens?"

This weekend was notable for three things. One, Holly and I had a rather interesting and honest conversation. Two, I became the parent of two kittens. And three, I fell off a roof.

You did not read incorrectly. I fell off a roof. Or rather I fell off a ladder from the roof of a structure and to the main roof of my friend Nan's four story apartment building in Park Slope. Why was I on the roof?? Well five of us were hanging out there and looking at Nan's amazing views of Manhattan and the Statue of Liberty. It was dark and I was going to climb down the ladder to fetch a beer. That's when I fell the five feet or so between the edge of the top structure and the main roof.

And I fell hard.

But only five feet, you scoff? Well I should mention that I fell on the wooden stepladder, shattering it, and landed on my tailbone and the splintered wood. Then I was thrown on my back and smacked my head against the roof. Holly and my friends came rushing to the edge when they heard the crash and thought that they were going to have to call 911. Flat on my back and distinctly aware that it's never good when the head bounces against something hard, all I wanted to do was lay there because moving would confirm just how bad I had hurt myself. A friend jumped down to help me up and thankfully nothing was broken nor was I impaled on the pieces of ladder. All I suffered was a serious ass bruise, a cut on my hand, and some wounded pride. Nan offered me some scotch and I spent the next hour coming out of shock.

As for the kittens, they arrived the next day. They were suitably freaked out much like I was freaked out by falling off a roof. When they weren't hiding under my bed, they were scampering around my apartment All Night Long. I guess that's a good sign, but it made for some abbreviated sleeping. In the morning I was pleased to discover that they had eaten all their food and had used the litter box, but were still using the space beneath my bed as a base of operations.

Holly had come over to see them Sunday evening at which point one had been hiding in the litter box and the other in the tiny space between my radiator and wall. When it was apparent that neither would come out and let us pet them, she tried to help me come up with names for them. Castor and Pollux? Germaine and Tito? Not having come up with any main contenders, I then steered the conversation towards our relationship.

I've noticed that Holly has been giving off a freaked out vibe herself. While she is not hiding under my bed with the cats, I've noticed that she's retreated behind this wall that she has. I told her my observations in an attempt to figure out what she was thinking. I told her that I loved her. She told me that she loved me, but is basically still dealing with her feelings for her boss. "I'm in love with someone else," she confessed, "and it's not fair to you."

Believe or not I can understand this. Even though a relationship ends, you have to figure out what to do with the feelings that you still have for someone. In Holly's case, she still loves her boss though is aware of the myriad reasons why the relationship had to end. Then she has her feelings for me that is only making her more freaked out. And it doesn't help that she still works with her boss and is thus confronted with the fucked up situation on a regular basis.

We talked for a while, which was really refreshing because for some reason we're both really evasive with our feelings. She usually retreats behind her wall and I retreat to a safe distance. Though we ended the conversation on a good note, I think the consensus is that her and I are going to wait on things till she can deal with her feelings for her boss. I know, I know. Story of my life, but can you really expect any different from our oft thwarted relationship?

"You know I really think you're a dyke," I said as we sat entwined on my couch.

"I think I am too."

"You're just shedding the last of your heterosexuality."

After we kissed some more, I added, "I've been very very patient."

"I know you have."

"One day . . ." I paused to kiss her earlobe. "One day I am going to do some very
. . . very . . . very naughty things to you."


"Yes. And it's non negotiable."

"I think I can get behind that."

Thursday, September 14, 2006

"Save some time for me this weekend if you can."

Some random thoughts:

• Whomever is responsible for the return of the vest as ladies fashion item needs to be dragged out into the street and shot.

• I keep seeing this woman around the area in which I work. It's one of those types of situations where we're both racking our brains to try and figure out where we know each other from. And as I passed her crossing Houston and Broadway today, it finally hit me: I went to college with her. In Virginia.

* My ten year high school reunion is set for October 7th. Beth reminds me, in case I was hesitating on going, that I "have lots of success to show off at the reunion!" Well, quite. I also have the urge to show up at the reunion and make an utter scene knowing that I have four New York aces in my back pocket. Mr. Bad Apologies, you with me?

• I will become a mom for two cats this Sunday. Names are pending and so is the verdict on whether this is a completely insane idea or just a first step in becoming a lesbian cliché.

• I need to learn Flash by September 25th. Look at me go!

• I realized I had an outstanding invoice floating about. I heart billing people for $500.

• Mysterious Blog Reader writes me to congratulate the recent turn of events with Holly and offers her services as a beer buddy. Hurrah!

• I have asked Val for my sari back. No word yet.

• I haven't seen Holly since Sunday and I'm getting restless. However she writes, "Save some time for me this weekend if you can." Oh yes I shall.

Wednesday, September 13, 2006

"There's a right way to leave a job and a wrong way."

As much as I bitched last week that I wished I had only given the standard two weeks notice, I knew that by being generous I would (1) show that I was not out to screw over my bosses and (2) reap the karma for being such a good person. Karma has manifested itself as an opportunity to do freelance work with my job, which is really the main reason I didn't come walking in from my Seattle vacation proclaiming, "I'm leaving, motherfuckers!!" even though I was tempted. And by giving a month's notice I knew that it was going to make up for the shitty fact that I'm leaving when our editorial director is out on three month's maternity leave.

Karma may be even more bountiful than your standard freelance work because it looks as though I will be paid by my current job on a freelance basis till they hire a new graphic designer. In addition, I will be paid to come in after my new higher paying job and train my replacement. And in addition to that, I will be paid to layout the issue supplements. Are these dollar signs in my eyes?

This brings me to the quote I used for this entry's title. There is indeed a right way to leave your job and a wrong way. The right way, as my boss referenced this morning sitting amongst us, is my decision to give a month's notice. I will be rewarded for my generosity. The wrong way, he went on to explain, conspicuously sitting in my new coworker's desk chair, is to tell your boss that you are leaving to take a new job after
only six days of work. Apparently that is what my new coworker did -- told my boss that he had been still interviewing even though he took the job with us. My boss was understandably not happy and new coworker became old coworker. And now not only does my boss have to find my replacement, but he has to start the search all over again for the now vacant editor position.

Ladies and gentlemen, if there is a moral to this story it is that you do not burn your bridges. New York may be a big city, but it is freakishly a small town at times and you never know when you're going to run into someone again. As my boss said, It's a real "scumbag" thing to do and I have to agree.

Monday, September 11, 2006

"I'm looking forward to reading the next chapter of your continuing adventures."

Though my adventures never seem to be banal -- more like screwball -- I started this blog as a chronicle of the mundane and the transition from Washingtonian to New Yorker. Then it morphed into me whining about my feelings for Holly only to morph again into OFTL. If my life were a book, this is where the next chapter would begin.

Actually I've been thinking OFTL would make a good book and have been moving through the last eight months with some idea that when OTFL or the year came to the end, I would gather up all my experiences and write something where each month was its own themed chapter. Something akin to a tongue-in-cheek dating manual wrapped up in a memoir. For instance, the January chapter would be about online dating and the five first dates I went on tentatively titled "Shock and Awe." I might be posting draft chapters in the coming month so I can get feedback.

Although I saw Holly Friday night, we were with other people celebrating a birthday and thus didn't get any one on one time. She was supposed to join me on Saturday for another birthday party, but backed out as she wasn't feeling well. On Sunday afternoon I called her and asked, "So, how are you planning on entertaining me today?" We decided on Lebanese food at a place by her South Slope apartment. We hung out, ate hummus, and smoked some hookah. The air temperature cooled quite a bit and we both shared her red shawl as we walked to Cafe Steinhof for a beer, my arm wrapped around her waist. Afterwards she was feeling tired so we headed towards her place as it was also on the way to the subway. On the corner, I pulled her towards me and kissed her wishing that it wasn't Sunday night and wishing we could commence with some much needed debauchery. But it was dark and she was tired so I held onto the curve of her hip as we kissed a little more.

"Call me sometime this week?" she begged.

"Of course."

Saturday, September 09, 2006

"Best of luck in your relationship, but I think it is best if we don't speak again."

Just a final word on SNDG and thus the last gasp of OFAG: People are weird.

So after she sent her email earlier this week telling me of another relationship she was embarking on, I sent an email back with a kind of "whatever" tone and told her of the new relationship I was embarking on. I thought we could have been friends as we had a good rapport, albeit not sexual. Like I said, whatever.

I got a response this morning:

I am a dishonest person. I misrepresented myself in my response to you and carried on when I didn't feel anything and when I was in love with someone else.

What I did has ruined what was probably the most important relationship I've ever had.

Best of luck in your relationship, but I think it is best if we don't speak again.

Huh? Bit strongly worded, don't you think? Actually a bit unnecessary as we only met twice. Why people have to make a big deal out of nothing is beyond me. Her choice of words is interesting, especially the use of "dishonest" and "misrepresented." Is she not really bisexual as she claimed? Is she not telling me the whole story? Not a good person? If it's the later, wow . . . I must not be as good a judge of character as I thought I was.

Looks like I'll be needing someone to go with me to the Sufjan Stevens concert on September 29th. J-Wo? You will be visiting me that night after all . . .

Friday, September 08, 2006

"That said, more details please."

Why oh why did I give my office a month's notice? If I had gone with the standard two weeks, today would have been my last day. Sweet Christ, if I had known that my lame duck period would drive me to tears of boredom or that my boss was just now posting my vacancy, then I wouldn't have been so generous.

Instead I have two weeks left. TWO WEEKS! Can it come any slower? And how jealous am I that Mr. Bad Apologies and J-Wo are currently sunning it up in Hawaii!

So it's Friday and I'm drumming my fingers against my keyboard because I have a happy hour to go to at 6:30 pm and time to kill at work beforehand. I've run out of blogs and interesting New York Times articles to read. I've cleaned out one of my various email account's inbox and took pleasure in deleting the messages of old girlfriends. I've also sadly contemplated that I haven't heard from Holly since we departed on Wednesday night and thusly am feeling a little antsy.

J-Wo made a good point in the comments section asking what "appropriate level of disclosure" will I take in letting Holly know about my blog. Sigh. I've always known that that day would come whether it was I who told her or a slip up from someone else (Note to J-Wo: Don't call her Holly when you meet her), but I will . . . someday. Though I have no problem with her reading my uncensored thoughts, I do feel bad for airing her dirty laundry on multiple occasions.

Thursday, September 07, 2006

"Maybe we should identify September as a 'Sweeps' month like the networks do."

If there is any irony to OFTL -- and later OFAG -- it is that in spite of all my searching over the last eight months it was really Holly that I was looking for. Our union was waiting for its moment as I went through first date after first date looking for Ms. Right. And in the end the push we needed was a misdirected drunken kiss that sent me into action, confirming something that I long since knew but had given up on -- that Holly and I were meant to be together. It only took a year and a half.

Love is a funny thing. I loathe to think that I might be using this blog to gush like a twelve year old over an object of affection, so I'm going to hold back on any teary eyed effusions. The spirit of OFTL and OFAG will remain, but these campaigns have effectively come to an end.

One of the characteristics of my friendship with Holly has been our inability to say what we are really thinking. I have since learned to read her really well and can usually guess with accuracy what is going on in her mind. As a result it should be no surprise that it took so long (with some help from our friend, Mr. Alcohol) for us to say what we had been silently saying for many months. And it should come as no surprise that it took a few beers last night until our conversation stopped skirting around the issue and we started talking about us.

"I really missed you this weekend," she said holding my hand as we sat on bar chairs.

"Though I feel kind of retarded, I missed you too." After a pause I ask as our fingers entwine, "So what are we doing here? Are we dating? Are we taking things slow? Is this slow?"

"I just don't want to move in on the second date. You know the old cliche. What does a lesbian bring on a second date? A U-haul."

"I don't want that either," I say with a smile and realizing I'm a little tipsy. And probably because I am tipsy, I'm wishing we weren't in a public place so I can do all sorts of naughty things to her. I note that she is wearing a skirt.

"Well I'm not seeing anyone right now," she adds with a sweep of her hand that breaks me from my x-rated train of thought. I wonder if this is her way of reaffirming that her and her boss are over.

"Neither am I." My mind flashes to SNDG and her recent email. "You know that girl I went out on a couple dates with? Well she said she was seeing someone so looks like we're all clear."

"I don't want you to blow off anyone on my account."

I lean in and give her a kiss. "Of course not. I've always thought you were lovely."

Wednesday, September 06, 2006

"I miss you."

I know, I know. I can practically hear your drumming fingers on my side of the computer screen. The reason there hasn't been an entry in a few days is because there hasn't been anything to share on the Holly front -- we have been in a holding pattern since she has been traveling.

But no more! Not only did she (belatedly) respond to my text this weekend with an "I miss you," but she called me yesterday evening and we made plans to meet for dinner tonight. ¡Dios mio! I might explode.

In the meantime I've been clearing a path or rather having one cleared for me. Remember Saturday Night Date Girl with whom I had two dates? She wrote me last night to say that she was seeing someone and didn't want to deceive me. Well that was easy -- now I can focus on Holly without having to initiate the awkward conversation with SNDG myself.

So my plan for tonight? Lay all my cards on the table.

Saturday, September 02, 2006

". . . obviously you are a flaming socialite with more lover/friend drama then a queen in the Castro!?"

Now for my monthly OFAG update.

First dates: 1

Second dates: 1
Lesbians who have seriously flirted with me: 1
Lesbians that could be more than friends: 1
Lesbians kissed: 2
Lesbians tackled: 1
Lesbians who said I am their soulmate: 1

August, August, August. What a hell of a month. New job, father's accident, dating, nine states visited, and a reckoning between Holly and I. Did I mention I was broke too? Thinking about getting two kittens? Is this whiplash I'm feeling?

My life has turned upside down, but if anything I think these changes portend a new and prosperous phase in my life as if I have finally actualized what I initially moved to New York for. As Mr. Bad Apologies says, "How in the FUCK did [you] isolate yourself so well in Silver Spring, when obviously you are a flaming socialite with more lover/friend drama then a queen in the Castro!?" I do think that's one of the best compliments that has ever been made about me.

So what of Holly? Well, I saw her and her parents on Wednesday and because we had an audience I was not able to plumb how things have changed between us or whether last weekend was a fluke. And since Holly has been out of town since Thursday and will not be back till Monday, everything is on hold. Sigh.

There you go. I don't know what is going on between us. If I had to wage an educated guess based on the fact that I've known Holly for a year and a half, I would say that she's scared about the change between us even though she wants it -- she's scared of sabotaging her happiness. And me? I'm just scared that things will stall out.