Dating a boy, boy that was unexpected.

In the past year my sexuality underwent something of  a quantum shift. Changing utterly, beyond any, and all previous understanding. Leaving me a completely new per…well no not really. In reality I just realised that I could accept that I fancied a particular boy. And then I asked him out.

Asking him out wasn’t a small act. Despite the fact that it was accidental like almost all of my asking outs (It’s a real word in my head, okay?) of people. Seriously I have a well grounded tradition of accidentally asking people out…

But it was, and still is a big deal for me. After 2 months of being involved with my Boylesquer I’m still trying to understand this change in me. Hell I’m still trying to understand if it really is a change, or just my truly accepting something that I’ve always believed anyway.

What’s that Amanda?

Well I believe that no matter how straight, or gay you feel you are, there’s always the potential for one person of your non-prefered gender to knock your socks clean off. It happens all the time. I think just about everyone has that straight/gay friend, who has been straight/gay their whole lives, never deviating. Then suddenly they have a girl/boyfriend.

But this then leads to a language question. One that dovetails rather neatly with a bdsm post I wrote a while ago.

Are they bisexual? Or are they still a lesbian (or whatever), who just happens to have met their exception to the normal rules?

You see people say all the time that sexuality, like gender is a spectrum. But then they insist on slapping that type of phrase into a cage made up of a very confining, rather binary language. Leaving people who have been with one guy, ever, in the position of having to say that they’re bisexual, or Pansexual, or queer, or (insert makey uppey word), when they don’t know if that word actually applies to them. It’s an uncomfortable place to be stuck in, especially if your one of those writer types who uses labels the same way other people use oxygen. Writers of course mostly being bitter soul-destroyed anaerobic lifeforms, with concentrated, neat vodka for blood.

So getting back to me I’ve been left trying to find a word, or a term that I can use to comfortably explain who I am.

Am I bisexual? I don’t think so. I like my boylesquer a lot, I mean he’s cute, charming, sweet, intelligent, talented, ripped to fuck, well groomed, and has a very spankable ass. But he’s just about the only boy I’ve ever actually been into. (Kitten please stop laughing, and pointing at your Sir!)

I do adore transwomen, natal-women, and one or two utterly genderless individuals so am I some weird sort of Pansexual? Probably not, even though I mostly identify as a Futagirl (At its simplest girl who’s happy to have a girlcock, but wishes she also had a pretty kitty.) the operative part of that word is “girl”. The truth is I’m attracted to girls, of any sort. Hence my having a new girl-crush basically every day of the week. As for the genderless people…they’re just hot and let’s leave it at that, otherwise I may have no functioning mind by this time next week. But the girl, and primarily (99.99%) into girls would surely mean lesbian, right?

Okay so I’m left with a problem, how do I define myself?

Yeah, yeah I hear some of you saying “But Amanda, why do you have to define yourself?”

I just do, okay? You get to be all airy-fairy about defining yourself if you want, I get to be a pedantic bitch about myself if I want to. And I need to, otherwise I start to derail.

I guess the best way to define myself is to say that I am a lesbian with some bisexual tendencies. Or I’m a dyke with a fetish for one special guy. Or, I don’t know, I’m a meat-popcicle would you like a lick?

But really the best definition of my sexuality at the moment is probably “confused as fuck.” Because while I know that women of any sort totally light up my world, I don’t know yet how to integrate my adoration for a certain boylesquer into how I see myself. But life, especially when combined with a rather active sex-life, is a huge ongoing lesson. I’ll learn from this, probably excruciatingly slowly, but someday I will know exactly how to see myself in this new light.

And then I’ll probably want to get very, very drunk.

What’s the point of being…

While going through my search engine statistics for the past week I cam across a search that drew me up short. One person had asked Google, “what is the point of being lesbian”. Well I’m going to ask another question in reply.

What’s the point of being anything?

This sort of question is a personal bugbear of mine. This strange belief that people who exist outside of any way of living, seem to believe that there has to be a point to it.

You may as well ask “What’s the point of being…

male,

female,

Irish,

a beagle,

or how about the 300 lb gorilla in the room, straight?

Life, or any way of living it only has meaning on a personal level. Living according to the dictates of a mouldering, evil small-minded, bigoted, serial concealer of paedophiles seems pointless to me. But a simply huge number of Christians seem to feel there’s a point to it.

And before I get lynched for having a pop at Catholicism, I regularly get pointed informed by Christians of all stripes that it’s pointless of me to believe in fairy stories because I’m Pagan, and believe in Athena. Again, pointless to them, but has meaning to me.

As I think I’ve just proven (probably haven’t but that’s the sort fo thing writers are expected to say) Religion is a good framework to discuss this, though probably too loaded with pissy, cultural baggage. So for that matter would be sexuality, at least right now. So let’s try something more user-friendly instead. Let’s try kids cartoons.

When I was in my teens, cartoon fans seemed to be broken into two main camps in my school. On one side there were those who loved the Johnny Bravo style of cartoon. And on the other there were the X-Men style fans. I came down on the latter side of the debate.

I simply couldn’t see the point in watching a program that had no story-arc, had such childish drawings, and characters. And in truth I couldn’t see the point of a cartoon that lacked characters you could ummmm, “fap” to fantasies about later. (Gimme a break I was 14, and my testosterone stream only had small amounts of blood in it.)

Can’t we all just agree that Rogue is her own reason?

But I had friends who just didn’t see the point in watching a show where you had to put effort into watching it. Where if you missed a storyline you could potentially end up confused later in the series when they refered back to it. And in the words of one of those friends “Not even Rogue makes it worth all the effort.” Sacrilege of course, Rogue in any form is always worth the effort, but I did see his point.

So Amanda, where the hell are you going with this?

As I said life, any part of life, only has any real meaning from a very personal point of view. Literally through your own eyes. Some people break laws because…why bother? What’s the point? While most people don’t, I like to think because they see the point of us all obeying the same set of rules for mutual benefit.

Some people love a fast car, some don’t see the point.

Some people love superhero movies, some don’t see the point.

Some worship, some have children, some have great careers, some change the world, and some die by their own hand. Each due to their own personal perspective on the pointedness or pointlessness of the various aspects that make up each of our lives.

Is there a point to being lesbian? Or bisexual? Or pansexual? Or polyamorous? Or monogamous? Or straight? Or into the extreme hotness that are futagirls?

Yes, but it’s probably not really something you can understand, unless you’ve experienced it, despite the point actually being the same for any type of relationship. I think it always boils down to one sentence in the end. We all need to be loved, by the ones we love, whatever gender they may be.

And before anyone else says it, yes I agree…but it sure is a hell of a lot of fun. *waves at my partners, I’ll let ye imagine what I’m waving.*

Right let’s make one thing frikkin’ clear, okay?

I’m a member of a few different dating websites.  After all, being a sufferer of a chronic illness kind of limits my opportunities for having a social life, and thus rather truncates my potential dating pool.  Though not as much as being a girl with a very much oversized, non-vagina adjacent clitoris does.

While dating websites can be a useful tool for increasing the odds of getting a date, that is precisely what they are mostly filled with.  Tools, I mean.  Seriously, dating websites seem to be almost overflowing with the sort human specimens who make my skin itch at the mere thought of sharing the gene pool with them.  All sub-human life is there.  From the guy who claims to be 40, while his profile picture makes it abundantly clearly that he went to school with Methuselah.  To the fuck ugly guy who has two profiles, one of them listed as female, just so lesbians won’t miss his profile.  After all, the only reason they’re lesbian is because they haven’t had the right cock, and his is the right cock.  And when he’s in his cups he’ll even proudly boast that he’s had sex with lesbians before, two of them, at the same time.

Sure mate, we believe you.

The other side of the coin is of course the woman, who despite clearly being closely related to Moby Dick, claims to be size 12.  Of course it’s the truth, she was a size 12, when she WAS 12.  But somehow she doesn’t see the other 12 dress sizes, which have magically appeared since.  Of course they do say the camera puts a few pounds on everyone, but there’s a significant difference between a few pounds and a few hundred pounds.  And when you’re sure you can see a Japanese whaling ship in the background of her photo…well.

Oh and what about the married woman trawling the internet for a lesbian lover?  “My husband approves and he doesn’t want to be involved.  He just wants me to be happy…and to watch.”

Has anyone ever fallen for that one?  Seriously?  He doesn’t want to be involved…watching IS being involved and I would be stunned if his  one incher didn’t heave pathetically into view and a random (in either woman) orifice at some stage.  With or without consent.

You see, that’s the problem I’ve discovered with all dating websites.  So many people are assholes.  All they want is to get their end away and they’ll often do or say anything to make it happen.  Lying outrageously  about age or dress size being the very least of it.

And if your lesbian the problems only multiply.   You see unless you’re on a lesbian dating website most men, and a lot of women too, tend to see you as an easy route to a threesome.  After all being lesbian is all about sex right?  But if you add in being transgendered, you really are dipping yourself in honey and then throwing yourself to the bears.  You see according to the vast majority of messages I receive on various websites, a lesbian transwoman is just confused.

You’re either confused about your gender, and thus need to have sex with the messenger because that will show you that you’re either;

A: really just a confused guy, who just needs to be ridden hard by the right woman to realise the truth.

or

B: really a gay guy, who just needs to be ridden hard by any guy to realise the truth.

While the truth is that those people just want to use you for their own totally deniable bisexual experience.

Of course the alternative is that you are female, and simply confused about your sexuality.  But again the cure involves them getting their wicked way with you.

Right so let’s clear some things up.  I don’t give a solitary flying fuck whether you’re 20, 40, 60 or you were there for the sack of Constantinople.  If you’re male and you message a lesbian you have two chances, none and go fuck yourself.  Oh and if you message this transgirl to inform her that I just need the right cock, your cock, to fix me, well guess what dopey-dick, I already have the right cock!  It’s a girlie one and it’s my own.

In addition if you’re female and you insist on claiming miniscule dress sizes, in direct contravention to the international ordinances on the weighing and measurement of harpooned whales, don’t be surprised when I literally wet myself from laughing.

Oh and when your hubby says he doesn’t want to be involved, you can be 90% certain that he’s trying to manipulate you into arranging a three-way for him.  Cause after all, how could any woman, hot and horny resist him and his toadstool like penis, complete with those warty growths you sometimes get on the nastier looking fungi…and penises.

But let’s clear the air, I don’t hate men.  Barring two or three very special ones, they simply don’t figure in my life.  Being lesbian is not a choice, nor is it an illness and the right cock can not in any way cure it.  So show enough respect to not have a second profile, identical to your main one, apart from the gender box.  And don’t lie about your age, it only makes you look like a fucking eejit.

And I adore women, slim ones, large ones, big and small busted ones, oh, not forgetting leggy ones.  Kittengirls, rubber and leatherwomen, older or younger, shorter or taller.  All that matters is that they’re honest and they actually are themselves.  Nothing is more attractive than the confidence to be yourself.

Just because it’s a website does not mean you can throw aside common courtesy.  Just because I am gay and not gender conforming, does not give you the right to sexualise or fetishise everything about me.

In short if you wouldn’t say or do it in person don’t do it online. If you wouldn’t get away with the lie in reality, well, you’ll still get found out in the end regardless.  And then I’ll wet myself laughing at you.

By the way to the married lady, if your hubby does try to get directly involved don’t be surprised if the night ends in a trip to casualty.  Anyone who gives a lot of cunnilingus will have a bite strength comparable to a crocodiles, and if they’re lesbian, will likely have a very similar temperment in that situation.

The eternal who’s hotter debate.

Look here’s the thing. while sitting watching NCIS my partner will spend her time gooing over Ziva David while I’m having mental orgasms every time Abby Sciuto wanders into shot.  Many of my friends think that Kari Byron of Mythbusters fame is the hottest thing on two legs, now while I agree she is stunning and would never ever be ejected from my bed for eating chocolate hobnobs I still prefer  Scottie Chapman of the impressive welding and gorgeous tattoos who is now unfortunately long departed from the show.

Most women who love women that I know think Annie Lennox is the pinnacle of womanly hotness where singers are concerned.  Now while I adore her voice, her style and her personality I will always scream “NO!” and trot out the ever beauteous Brody Armstrong of the now defunct Distillers as my prefered girl to sing me to sleep.

That’s the thing about the who’s hotter debate.  No-one can ever win it.  It’s always a purely personal thing.

For example in the movie Troy while most people would probably say that Diana Kruger who played Helen was stunningly beautiful (and to give her everything due she was and is) and was the feminine highlight of the movie I was sitting there hungering to see more of  Briseis played by Rose Byrne.  See what I mean about personal?  Helen spends a large part of the movie naked and in gorgeous ancient world Disney princess dresses while Briseis spends a LOT of her time covered in muck, with cuts on her face and then goes on to mount Brad Pitts Achilles, so in other words she’s hot enough to me to overcome my intense dislike for Brad Pitt.  Impressive

Virtually everyone wants to take Angelina Jolie to bed.  I simply do not understand this to me she looks like a badly designed and constructed fish.  Well ok I’ll admit that for ten minutes in Hackers she’s decent looking, you know the ten minutes she’s in that white jumpsuit, with the short pixie haircut…but then it all went down hill rather quickly for me.

Luckily my partner and I do have some common ground.  We both think that Ellen Degeneres really is nothing special, but her wife Portia De Rossi….well, pass the diabetic friendly chocolate sauce and get out of the room please.  We are gonna make damn sure none of the three of us walks anything like straight for a month.

But all that said surely everyone can agree on there being at least a few common ground women.  Those women who are so gorgeous that they are quite simply above this debate Milla Jovovich, Diane Riggs and of course Helen Mirren.

You see I started writing this because I’ve seen this debate on straight websites, gay websites, television, I’ve listened to it on radio and recently  it’s begun to really annoy me.  Why?  Because as my mother would say there’s someone for everyone.  Even on our worst hair and make up day there will be one person who thinks we’re stunning and on our best day we can all of us manage to pole-axe multiple admirers into walking straight into moving traffic.  So why not just accept that you’re simply not going to get any real consensus on this and move on to something important?  Like who should be declared Empress of Man.

And with that in mind I wish to put my name forward for the afore-mentioned position.  I promise chocolate for all who suffer the blights of periods or children and to make all serving parliaments serve out their terms from the inside Mountjoy Jail.

What’s so wrong with kissing a girl and liking it?

Rushing home to my beloved Rosie the other day I had the unmitigated joy of spending three hours on a train from Cork to Dublin. While sitting there I had the pleasure of listening to a pair of young lesbians bitching at extreme length about how Katy Perry’s best known song “I Kissed a Girl” was despicable in how it portrayed feminine same-sex relationships.

Now I too am a lesbian. I love the girlies and to be perfectly frank I don’t care if they’re bisexual or dyke so long as they want my cute, shapely arse, oh and heart as well of course. And being lesbian I just don’t get what all the bollocks surrounding this song is about.

She’s singing about being at a party, getting very drunk and snogging a girl she fancies. Correct me if I’m wrong but don’t a large number of bi-women discover that they love the ladies in a largely similar manner?

Actually I have known a few lesbians for that matter who discovered an abiding love for feminine parts in this way.

Yes at some stage in the song she wonders if her boyfriend will mind. But again so what? She kissed someone while drunk enough that to judge by the video at least she was hallucinating. She doesn’t dismiss what’s happened between her and the one with the luscious kissable lips because she has a boy. Nor has she been engaging in the trapping of an unsuspecting girl for a torrid three-way, though perhaps the girl may have actually gone for that.

So I again ask what’s the problem with this song?

Well after a lot of deep thought I think I know what the problem actually is. Some people don’t like to admit that they were at any stage unsure about their sexuality. “Oh I always knew I was *insert sexuality*.” This song is about someone exploring hers and being happily surprised by the results. So what do I think of it all? I love this song. It portrays female to female attraction as something both fun and positive, it’s bouncy, enjoyable and Katy Perry is deliciousness wrapped in hotness. So sod the begrudgers.