My First Kiss Cont.

this post is dedicated to cj

...This was the end of innocence. I'd kissed a woman! I'd been to a bar, had beer, lied to my parents, things would be different from this day forward. That had all happened on a Monday night, yes...a school night. I'd had Katie, and that kiss on my mind for every excruciatingly long minute of everyday, until the weekend finally arrived. She didn't have a phone, so I'd surprise her. I got on my trusty ten-speed, and rode the twenty two miles to the college. My feelings for her could have propelled me to the moon, if that's what it would take to see her again. I didn't know how to get there without spending a little time on the highway. I knew I wasn't supposed to be on it, on my bicycle, but I figured once I was on it, the worst that could happen is a cop might pick me up and take me to the nearest exit, which is where I was going anyway. I might've been wrong about that, but we'll never know, because no one did stop me. I rode like the wind, to the soft sweet lips of my new love.



When I got there, she wasn't there, but was expected back soon. Her roommate I'd met the night of her game, allowed me to come in and wait. She was very nice, and sat and talked to me. She pulled out a bong and took a hit, offered it to me, I politely declined. I was familiar with the stuff because my older sister was something of a pot-head, and got me stoned when I was all of twelve. I had decided after that, that pot wasn't for me. I was an athlete, and I wanted to be healthy.



When Katie arrived home, she wasn't alone. She introduced me to her friend, and expressed her surprise at seeing me. She asked me if I'd like to go for a walk and excused herself. She explained that the woman she'd just introduced me to, was her lover, and she apologized for misleading me with that kiss. She explained that she was attracted to me, and flattered by my attention, but she'd made a mistake. I was crushed. We walked back to the apartment, I saw pieces of my heart caught in the treads of her sneakers being mashed into the ground with each step. My legs became heavy. All I could feel was the cavity where my heart had been, growing larger and larger. I knew I had to get home before it consumed me completely, and the ride home, was ten times longer than the ride there had been.

My First Kiss

This is the story of the first time I kissed a woman. I count this as my first kiss, because it was the first one that didn't disgust me, and the first one that I really wanted to participate in.

You'll need some background, so here goes. The summer between my sophomore and junior year in high school, I went to field hockey camp. This was a camp for serious field hockey players who wanted to improve and hone their skills. My high school was very competitive in this sport, and I was very competitive in everything. The camp was run at a nearby private college known for it's physical education program, and premier athletics department. Many of the women on the college's esteemed hockey team were instructors at the camp. I developed a huge crush on one of them we'll call Katie. Katie was going into her senior year, she was the captain of the team. She was athletically built, thin, blue eyes, blond hair, a gorgeous smile, and an English accent. What's not to love? I puppied around after her for the entire time, with a small crowd of others who also thought she totally rocked it.

I didn't know if she was gay. I knew I was, but I still hadn't met any one else I knew to be gay, so I had no gaydar. She tried to hint to me that she was, looking back, but I was too new to it all to add any of it up. The night before our last day, I stayed awake writing her a letter. One that I did not want to be around when she read. One that told her how I felt, bared my soul, exposed me, to her and everyone she might choose to share it with. I slid it under her door that morning, before she got up and out.

Later, the usual groupies and I were all in her room while she packed up her stuff, all hoping to steal a private moment, or make some kind of impression that would separate us from the pack. I had no way of knowing whether she'd read the letter yet or not. I figured she had, and was doing the prudent thing, pretending it never happened. Then she told everyone to get out, she needed to go, and we all started filing out the door. "Not you." She stopped me, and shut the door. My heart began to race, she's pissed...why did I do it...why? I should've waited until the last minute to give that to her... I'm so stupid.

"Nice letter" she said with a warm smile. "Here, I'm going to give you my address so you can write to me, I hope you can come to some games too."

I was stunned. I couldn't speak, I just smiled at her, she hugged me, and I somehow made it to my stuff and to my parent's car, and then home.

No, the kiss didn't happen yet, I'm getting to that.

So, I wrote to her, and much to surprise she wrote back, quickly. I thought for sure a beautiful woman like her, with all she has going on would take weeks to reply, but again she surprised me.

Finally, I arranged to go see her play. It was Columbus Day. I borrowed my parent's car, and drove to the college. It was about a twenty five minute drive. When I arrived, I found Katie right away to say hello. She asked me if I could give her a ride to her apartment really quick, she'd forgotten something she needed for the game. Of course I was more than happy to oblige. I met one of her roommates, and we headed back to the field.

One of the other girls from the field hockey camp was in the stands, and when she heard me cheering for Katie, she asked me, "So...you know Katie?"

"Yes" I replied importantly. "I saw her this weekend out at The Arbor" she volunteered. I was still trying to find out if she was gay, so I nonchalantly replied, "Was she with a boyfriend?"

"A boyfriend?!!" the girl blurted out laughing at my ignorance, "No, she wasn't with a boyfriend." she somehow managed while still snickering.

Of course The Arbor was a lesbian bar, but I didn't know. I didn't even know such places existed! I was only 16! After the game, Katie came directly over to me, and asked if I wanted to go out with a bunch of them for a beer, then asked "How old are you?" "I'm seventeen...and a half", I lied. The drinking age was eighteen back then, and they weren't much into carding, so that seemed fine, and off to the neighborhood dive we went. It was a little haunt with a juke box, it was not a lesbian bar, or gay bar, just a bar, the first bar I'd ever been in, but I wasn't about to share that information. I pretended I went to bars all the time, and drank beer quite frequently. I didn't. After a couple or a few beers, I realized the time, and said, "I need to call my parents!" They'll be worried. I intended to tell them the game went into overtime, and then I was visiting with my friends, and I'd be home soon. Katie got in the car with me and directed me back to the school to use a phone booth. They had no phone in their apartment. When I got there, a cop car parked behind me, and the officer called out to me, "Are you Red Mojo?" "Yes" I said sheepishly. "Your parents are looking for you!" he informed me.

"I know officer, I'm calling them right now."I managed, afraid they'd see I'd been drinking and arrest me. "I talked to them about half and hour ago, and I saw the lights on the field, so I told them the game was still going on." one of them said. That was helpful.

I placed the call, and my Dad was concerned I might get lost on my way home, so he was giving me directions over the phone, and wanted me to repeat them back to him. I was too drunk to do this, so I kept getting it wrong after the 4th or 5th turn. The cops heard what was happening and they asked, "Do you know how to get home once you're on the freeway?"

"Yes." I answered confidently. "Then we'll give you an escort." they said. The pressure of all of this was threatening to just cave my head in, but I pulled it together, told Dad the police were going to take me to the freeway, and then I told the police, that before that happened, I needed to take Katie home. They were fine with that, so I took her to her place, with them behind me, I pulled up in front, and after a whole night of flirting, drinking, smiling, and gazing into each other's eyes, it would end like this.

"Aren't you going to walk me to my door?" she asked. "Yes" I eagerly replied. We hopped out and walked around to the back of the building. We hugged and I gave her a peck on the cheek. When I began to pull away she closed her eyes, tilted her head a little and opened her mouth just a little. Oh my God! She wants me to kiss her! I went in. It was like heaven. I don't know how long we kissed before I was awakened from this bliss by a honking horn. Holy crap! The cops! We said goodbye, I ran to the car, followed the cops to the freeway and drove home wondering why on earth I felt all weird and wet between my legs. A crazy and wonderful night of firsts!

Watching TV

I'm good at a lot of things, but watching TV isn't one of them. I have no problem watching a movie, on a premium channel, so it's not interrupted by commercials. Some people sit transfixed in front of commercials, but my brain looks for something else to focus on immediately, it's like flipping a switch.

Have I checked my email?

Any new comments on my blogs?

Should I throw another log on the fire?

Do I need to move my clothes from the washer to the dryer?

Oh my, I still have dirty dishes in the sink, better clean them up! Next thing you know, I'm toddling off to complete a quick task, and that's where things go wrong. I go downstairs to move the laundry, and while I'm down there, I smell something nasty. I find the source. It's a trash bag that's been waiting too long for me to muster up the enthusiasm to go to the dump. I hate going to the dump, and would trade it for any other household chore, if I had someone to trade with, but I don't. I have to do everything, so I put it in a heavy gauge large plastic bag and take it outside to put in the truck. I notice how dirty my truck is, and realize I haven't washed it in a couple weeks. It has my company name on the door. I have to keep it clean, so I get out the bucket the soap, the telescoping brush and wash it. I should vacuum out the interior. I look for an extension cord, but can't find one. I know I have one out in the workshop. I get to the workshop and see a cabinet clamped up, that still needs doors made so I can deliver it and collect the money. I should get those doors started, I'll need my ipod. That's in the house, I go to get it, and the dogs are all excited to see me because I've been away from them for close to thirty minutes, I let them out. When they come in I give them cookies and realize it's lunch time. I start to look for something to make, and remember that I meant to go to the store. I have to clean up to go, after all I'm single and you only get one chance to make a first impression. I go upstairs to put on a clean (non-paint-covered) shirt, check my hair, brush my teeth, because you can never do that too much, and I'm ready to go. I realize before I leave that I have some outgoing mail to prepare, I need to fill out a deposit slip, write a check, and send back a Netflix movie. I go into my office to get the bank envelope and stamp and see what a clutterfied mess it is in there, it looks like the hall of records threw up. I really need to organize my desk and get these invoices and receipts filed...and so it goes. I'll come back into the room later when something else has started, and try to think of what I was watching when I left, but it's gone. Whoosh, mind-swipe. Whatever it was, it was a complete waste of time. Have I mentioned how much I hate having my time wasted. Well, it's my biggest pet-peeve, almost all the other peeves can be filed under the heading: Time wasted!

Happy Easter?!

Easter is such a strange mix of pagan and christian religion, that it really makes no sense at all, so if you do not celebrate Easter, please don't ask me to break it down for you. I go eat Easter dinner with my family. That's really as deep as I'd like to go.

Working for Hallmark

I've been told that I could write for Hallmark. I thought I'd put together a little portfolio of ideas I have for cards to show the Hallmark people, to see if they would consider hiring me as a writer.

I wanted to run them by you first, in case you have any helpful suggestions.

(not really looking for advice)

Love and Romance

Front: Our Love is like the ocean...
Inside: When I'm on the bottom, I can't breathe.

Front: Waking up next to you is the best part of my day
Inside: Man! I had a shitty day!

Graduation

Front: Congratulations Graduate!
Inside: Welcome to the real world. Have your shit out of here by the end of the week.

Missing You

Front: Since you've been away...
Inside: At least five chicks have tried to make out with me.

Get Well

Front: A little bird told me you haven't been feeling very well...
Inside: For in-depth instruction, and helpful hints, please feel me immediately!

Women My Age...

I am still very passively connected to two online dating sites. One I haven't joined yet, so I can't communicate with anyone, but I can see who my matches are. I have no picture posted, that always slows things way down too. The other I have my profile hidden so no one even knows I'm there. I just skulk around, I never see anyone that interests me enough to come out of hiding.

The site that makes matches for me, also lets people tell me they're interested, but no one who's been interested has been of interest to me. One of them looked like she had some 80's hair-do, and was wearing some time warp outfit too. Another one just looked old. She was one year older than me, and she looked like one of my mother's friends!

"God, do I look that old?" I asked my friend.

"No, you don't look like that, and you dress younger too, not inappropriately young, just not old."

she correctly answered.

It got me thinking. I have not met many women my age that interest me. I've never had that issue before. I've always been with women that are within four years of me, some more, some less. Now, I'm looking at women ten or more years younger as my desirable age group. Why? Is it because I have not matured, and need someone who can't see that? Is it because I don't think someone my age is going to be able to, or want to satisfy my sex drive? Is it because I think I am so much more vital and alive than I think most women my age are? Maybe it's because I don't do frumpy?

When women get to the age, my age, where fat just makes itself at home because it's too hard to lose, and clothing shifts from jeans and hoodies, to stretchy pants and blouses. When comfort becomes more important than style, and practicality rules over spontaneity. That's when they lose me. I have a feeling I'm not going to age gracefully. I plan to fight it all the way, exercising, dieting, dressing and feeling young. I don't want to be with someone who makes me feel old.

There is a clothing store in the town where I live full of clothing designed by Eileen Fisher. This is an example of what I am talking about. These clothes were made with frumpy in mind! They can make even a beautiful professional model look like a sack of potatoes. I'm sure the people who wear them chant the refrain, "Oh, but they're soooooo comfortable."

Halloween came early this year!

Frumpalicious!

Yes, you can be thin and in great shape, or gain up to thirty pounds and still look exactly the same in these outfits. Forgiving and sexy!

Wear it to:

The Library

The Coffee Shop

Yoga

A Funeral

A Cocktail Party

Political Fundraisers

Trick or Treating

Around the House

Book Club

Farmer's Market...etc.

(Not recommended for meeting women. Please be in a secure relationship before purchasing our clothing)

Happy St. Patty's Day!

Hey everyone! I hope you have a Happy St. Patrick's Day. Do something to celebrate, it doesn't have to be big, just one thing out of the ordinary. You'll feel better. I only say this because I feel like I'm in such a rut lately. I need to break the pattern of my daily grind.

Don't behave!

How to Embarrass Yourself in Blog-land

• Go to a blog where political topics are discussed, so posts and comments get pretty heated.




• Choose the right blog, make it someone famous, someone you admire.
  



• Leave a comment that sort of agrees with what the author has written, but also adds a new idea for people to bat around. That's more interesting than just yes-ing everyone to death.
  



• When you go back to see what's followed your comment, and you see someone has tried to paint you into a corner, followed by a somewhat scathing comment by the author, do not remain calm. Plan your revenge. Let that famous somebody have it. How dare she call me names like, narrow minded numb nut?
  
  
• Don't sink to her level, in fact mention that you won't, pointing out that she has, then explain calmly, but firmly, why her opinion of you is misinformed, and assumptions were made, and conclusions were jumped to, and it's all a big misunderstanding.
  
  
  
• Spend the whole next day wondering in what manner you'll find yourself shredded by one of the sharpest minds in comedy today.
  

• When you get home, go to the blog...quietly. You weren't blocked, that's something. She probably has people who can do that.
  
  

• Find the post and scroll down the comments to see your new torn asshole, and find...an apology, and explanation. It wasn't my comment she was responding to, it was the narrow minded numb nut above me.
  
  

• Feel like a complete idiot.
  
  

• Apologize back.

This is the true story of what happened to me over at Margaret Cho's blog, on her post titled "Because he's black?"! I did mention that this blog is for the socially retarded, right? I'm the leader!

Disclaimer: A couple days after posting this, it was brought to my attention, that the commenter I presumed to be Margaret Cho, was actually just some random Margaret adding even more embarrassment to the seemingly ever-growing pile!

See Sally Hate. Hate Sally, Hate!

If you haven't seen this yet, or more importantly, heard it...Here it is!

Sally Kern is attempting to spread her seeds of hate and ignorance faster than we can spread the "cancer" of homosexuality. So how about it queers? Spread faster! We need to put this one in the win column.

To send a strongly worded letter to Oklahoma Governor Brad Henry, Representative Chris Benge, and Senator Mike Morgan here is a link to The Human Rights Campaign. They have a pre-written letter you can approve and send, and options to edit that, or write your own. If you are as offended and angered by this behavior from an elected official, as I suspect you are; please take some action!

Have a great day spreading your love, Smartassbian

Coming Out: My Story

photo from ragamuffinsoul.com

I realized I was a homo at a relatively young age. Of course, I'd always had crushes on teachers, and babysitters...but I didn't really put two and two together until I was thirteen.

In sixth grade all the elementary-schoolers came together in a common middle school. That's when I met her. A beautiful, smart, athletic Irish girl with a very Irish name. We'll call her Meghan Flanagan. She and I became friends immediately, and had grown inseparable by the eighth grade. We had a lot in common. We were both very athletic, both honor students, we even both played the drums in the band! I began to notice that when her knee touched mine, or there was any other kind of physical contact between us, I felt all funny inside, a rush would go through me, and make the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. This feeling made me want to increase the amount of physical contact, naturally. It was also about that time in life, when all the other girls our age started to talk about boys constantly, and tried to arrange kissing parties and crap like that. You couldn't even have a conversation with one of them without the subject of boys coming up.

Typical conversation:

"I like Bobby, who do you like?"

"I like Meghan." Is what I wanted to say, but instead I would just name some boy, who seemed to be popular, "Eh, Michael."

"No, Lori already likes Michael, who else do you like?"

My eyes would roll back in my head, "Well, who's available, you know, that's decent?"

"Jimmy's available."

"Okay, I like Jimmy, can I go now, Meghan's waiting for me?"

It was a frustrating time for me, and I wasn't really sure why. One day, we were all at study hall talking, and someone said someone else was queer. "What's that mean?" I asked.

"You know, it's when a boy likes boys, or a girl likes girls, homosexuals!"

"oh."

Inner conversation: Holy crap, I'm part of something bigger. I'm a homosexual! I'm not the only one, there are others like me. This is great! Where are they? How do I find them?

Rumor had it that the high school PE teacher was queer, and I thought about talking to her about it, but I was too scared. What if she wasn't? What would happen to me, if I told her I was? Would I be kicked out of the girls locker room, unable to participate in sports, forced to where a big orange sign declaring that I'm a sexual deviant and should not be trusted?!

Things were different back then. It was 1974. There was no gay visibility. No role models, no alliances, organizations, community centers, and certainly no Internet! I looked up homosexual in the dictionary, found the words, deviant, pervert, lesbian and Sappho. I went from there, trying to find out about my culture, my social possibilities. Somehow I found some books on homosexuality in the town pharmacy. Too embarrassed and ashamed to buy them, I shop-lifted them, took them home and read them. What I read painted a dark and dismal picture of what my life might be like. Most of the information was about men, and it was explained that data on women was not easily obtained because they were not as visible or accessible. It seems there was also a very high percentage of suicide by lesbians who, because they were catholic, were told they'd burn in hell if they lived their lives as lesbians. Pretty bleak. My take on it was, you also burn in hell for killing yourself, so why not try to enjoy your life? Seemed like the lesbians were all becoming nuns, offing themselves, or living in seclusion with some other lesbian they'd somehow managed to find, or just lots of cats. I wondered if I would ever find anyone I was attracted to, that also happened to be a lesbian. The odds seemed to be against it.

I also was babysitting around that time in my life, and one of the guys I babysat for liked the Penthouse Magazines, and had issues dating back for ten years or so. I would look through them, and occasionally they would have a spread of women pictured together. When I found these, I would cut them out and take them home with me. They went into a drawer at my bedside along with all the stolen books.

One day, I came home from school and the contents of that drawer out on the bed, along with my Mother looking very distraught.

"What is all this?"

"God Mom, can't you see what it is? I'm gay." I was a little miffed that she'd invaded my privacy.

My parents arranged for me to see a psychologist, because they had no clue what to do or say. I obliged them, since they promised it would just be the one visit, and it went like this.

shrink: What subjects do you like in school?

Me: Science, English, Art, and Gym

shrink: What sports do you like?

me: Field hockey, basketball, softball, soccer, tennis, golf, swimming...

shrink: Do you think the women from the Penthouse Magazine pictures are sexy?

me: No, I think they're slutty. I prefer much more wholesome women.

shrink: Your parents gave me a list of the books you have. That's quite an impressive reading list. Did you read them all?

me: Yes.

shrink: What did you think?

me: I was disappointed that most of the data was about men.

There was more, but I don't remember most of it. When he was done with me, he called my parents in and he told them, he did not think it was a problem for me, and they should try not to make it one. They followed his advice, and told me, that they didn't understand it, but they love me anyway.

I consider myself very lucky, not only that my parents reacted as they did, but that the psychologist they took me to, was not a neanderthal, because it all could have gone down a lot differently.

Time Out

I have to take a short intermission, and get my do-do together. I the meantime, go read this. It's very entertaining. I will be back when I have some space in my brain for blogging.

Cashmere Mafia, Why Bother?

I have watched every episode of the Cashmere Mafia so far. I started watching because one of the four women in the group of friends, Caitlin is allegedly a lesbian. Well, maybe not, maybe bi, or maybe nothing. We find out early that Caitlin is someone who has never had a successful relationship, and two weeks is considered a long courtship for her. The suggested reason for this is that she hasn't figured out she's a lesbian yet.

Until one fateful day at the office when she and another woman have "eye contact" and the woman, Alicia, senses a connection and asks Caitlin out. They go out drinking, there's a couple minutes of conversation, where Caitlin admits she's in uncharted territory, followed by their first kiss, in public out on the busy New York sidewalk. At this I'm already scratching my head. Okay, this woman has never been with another woman before and is unsure about the whole thing, so...to make her feel more comfortable, I'll take her to a very public place and lay one on her. That should take care of it. Somehow this development does not deter Caitlin, and she comes out to her friends after the second date, and second public kiss, over coffee and danish. They don't bat an eye, and wish her luck. All perfectly normal.

Time goes by, all the other three women's characters are highly developed, as well as their relationships with the mates. We get to see some great interaction, chemistry, spats, etc. And although I'm not straight, there seems to be some level of realism here.

Hey, where did Caitlin and Alicia go? Oh, they are going to a baby shower for one of Alicia's many pregnant, straight looking, lesbian friends. At the shower, which takes place in a restaurant, one of the alleged lesbians asks Caitlin and Alicia, "If you two decide to have children, where will you get your sperm?" Caitlin looks shocked, as she should, who the hell would ask a couple that's been together for all of two weeks to a month? The time line is fuzzy since we never see them as a couple. Is that supposed to be second date conversation material for lesbians now? WTF? I mean seriously. Caitlin jumps up from the table and runs to the nearest hot man she can find. Can you blame her? Kind of. Anyway, he's just oozing charm and personality and between the interaction they have in the bathroom hallway, and then at the bar, we see more chemistry than we've seen between the two women for the whole of their "relationship". We never see the relationship develop between the two women, it's just there, instant relationship along with expectations and commitments, out of nowhere, while we were watching Davis screw around on Juliet.

Why write in a lesbian character if you don't know how to, or won't, develop her? This makes no sense to me. I know more about the other three women's spouses or boyfriends than I know about Caitlin! In a final insulting blow, we discover that Alicia is pregnant, but was afraid to tell Caitlin, and Alicia's ex-girlfriend comes back feeling entitled somehow, even though the pregnancy occurred after the break-up. As soon as Caitlin decides to accept her relationship with Alicia, and the unborn child as part of that world, Alicia breaks up with her to get back together with her nasty ex-girlfriend. Wow, now I hate lesbians! Man, they are messed up. Could the writers of Cashmere Mafia have done a less interesting, more bigoted, more "tv-stereotypical" portrayal of lesbians? I don't think so.

Now they don't seem to know what to do with Caitlin's personal life, so she doesn't have one at the moment. She's just work work work. Yes, the other's get to have personal lives, but that's different. Heterosexual relationships are everywhere, and easily studied, unlike the rare illusive lesbian relationships that may not really exist at all. It could just be fantasy. At least that's what you'd tend to believe after following this storyline, or lack there of.

A Touch of Spring Fever!

Today was an exceptional day! The sky was vivid blue, the sun was out, it was not warm, but a little warmer than it has been. Above freezing in any case, and I felt a burst of energy and general sense of well being that I haven't felt in some long dark cold months. I was very productive and happy, singing and flying through a bunch of tasks. I even let my mind wander to the days of the not very distant future when I can get my little convertible out of hibernation and go for a drive, a picnic, fly a kite! Dare I dream of such things?

This has been a long winter for me, and I feel it's heaviness, like one of those lead blankets you wear when they x-ray your teeth, lifting from my body, from my spirit! Spring! Come get me! I'm ready!