Walk On The Wild Side

It’s been a very long time since I’ve written.  Life has had its usual ebbs and flow, but there’s been a bit more going on.  I’ve had the opportunity to play Orlando, if you will, and under this guise I’ve been able to explore my more masculine side.  No drag involved.  Cyber-drag, yes. And I have to admit, I felt incredibly free. There were things I could say, do or pretend to do, and write that as a woman you wouldn’t get away with, it would not be taken in the same way, and would be judged by an entirely different criteria.  It’s a slippery slope, mind you.  While you know in your mind that the comments and flirtations are but witty often saucy banter – creative minds fluffing their peacock feathers and trying to show the other up – but beware, it also can create uncomfortable situations.

As a jealous fanatic, I didn’t understand this phenomenon of the alternate identity and just what jolly fun and how liberating it can be until I did it.  I saw it as just an excuse to flirt and be flirted with.  I was threatened by it and the sources of the attention paid to my partner.  Then I experienced it from the other side, and I can honestly say I understand the appeal.  I understand how it strokes the ego and can confirm your creative talents.  Talent and intelligence is just plain attractive – like a moth to a flame.

It’s not that different than when we were kids, playing “dress up” and make-believe, only with adult words and adult pleasure. Vive le ryveries!

Waxing Sentimental

Watching the turn of events in my neighborhood, I am smitten with an extreme sentimentality.  How did I “grow up” gay?  I’m not talking about being gay but being a part of what was the gay community.  Being a butch in training, I longed to be with women who could teach me a thing or two.  However, being a cute young thing, most butches wanted me to be a soft butch or turn femme.  There was a feeling of competition and domination.  Rites of passage. At the time, I’d never been able to really “be” myself, so like a chameleon, I altered to fit the environment.  The drive to have a GF at any cost didn’t help matters.  Driven by the need to have a mate, I ventured into many relationships that were destined to fail.  And they did.

I finally found a comfortable spot in a men’s country bar and becoming a part of a predominantly men’s social club.  It was the height of the AIDS crisis, so we were a social club with a cause.  We wore blue jeans, boots, blue western cut shirts, silver belly hats, and black leather vests with our club colors on the back.  This was a leather/levi club, and I fit in perfectly.  I was allowed to be “one of the guys” and in this my inner butch finally came out.  These were mostly butch men – bears, cowboys, leather daddies, rednecks – men who if you saw them on the street, you’d never guess they were men who loved men.  It may sound strange, but I felt more comfortable with these guys than hanging out with lesbians.  I just never “fit in” with the lesbians of the time.  This was the era of the lipstick lesbians and the fashionistas.  Very superficial and cliquish.  Very judgmental.  Very stuck up.  I didn’t have confidence enough to survive those shark filled waters – yet.

I loved being one of the guys and was privi to a world that few women knew.  As my involvement increased, I found myself more and more comfortable with being a butch and discovering who that butch was.  Bar runs were the most fun.  The freedom of sexual expression and the opportunity to observe and participate to whatever degree I’d like was empowering.  Pinning was a big deal.  Especially if you found some beauty that you wanted to break the ice with.  For those not familiar with “pinning,” it’s a motorcycle club tradition.  Each club has friendship pins.  They are made sturdy enough to go through thick material like jeans or leather.  Anyway, you get down on your knees in front of your intended’s crotch, unzip their pants, and reach in with one hand while you push the pin through their pants with the other hand.  The hand in the pants has the clasp to secure the pin.  Often “while your down there” finger or oral play would commence – for a few moments.  Although, there were occasions that drew crowds, and I liked to be part of the crowd rather than part of the performance. If you have a voyeur in you, these were wonderful opportunities to indulge.

Why do I wax sentimental this evening about such things?  Well, another gay bar is under the wrecking ball in Houston.  Another one of those delightfully dark, sexually charged places that you used to read about in forbidden books and magazines or get a peep of in movies like “Cruising.”  A place where stereotypes were the norm, and we weren’t ashamed of them or of being them.  It was like being a part of a secret society, and we truly felt special with our secret, as we were able to walk in two worlds.  Be a part of the “straight world” by day and then don our costumes by night.  It was a different place and a different time, a time now making way for “progress.”

Butch Evolution

We tend to look at life in linear points.  Like some cosmic “life line,” we connect the dots from birth to death. Unfortunately, we miss so much when we view our lives this way.  Instead of isolated points we would benefit much more from looking at our lives as evolutionary.  We exist not in moments but in motion and are constantly churning our existence into new beings.  Some part of us adapt to change and continue to evolve with our existence.  Other parts become extinct, no longer needed in the current period of “you.”

There are as many definitions of ‘butch” as there are butches.  Trying to reduce being butch to a singular finite collection of words is like to trying to reduce the galaxy into one shining star.  You lose the glory for the sake of simplicity.  Some things in life aren’t mean to “simplified.”

Butch then is a result of evolution.  The evolution of the butch that is you.  I don’t think you ever really complete your butch.  It’s not surprising, then, that you will go through many looks, styles, lifestyles, and life choices.  From the vehicle you drive to the women that you find attractive, you will be in transition, and there’s nothing wrong with that.

I mention this because of the long-time debate over what is “butch.”  There are no rules, no matter what the so-called experts like to claim.  There are stereotypes, trends, and socially marketed images, but there is no mold where one can simply add water and get an instant butch.  I know some women for whom this would be a dream come true…. sorry ladies.  It’s an urban legend.

There are times when I am so close to a stone butch that I would make diesel dyke look like a femme.  There are times when I’ve walked that fine line between the hetero-tomboy look and the baby butch.  a lot depended on my mood, comfort, employment, and just what felt good at the time.  The joys about evolution is that you are never bound to one “butch type,”  The only thing that binds you is the extent of your imagination…. and pocket book, on occasion.  And on even more frequent occasions, the woman that you are with or want to be with.

We transition for various reasons.  We have this power of choice because we are creatures of evolution.  There is tremendous power in this realization.  Enjoy it.  Take pleasure in it and explore.  Become the butch you always wanted to be and don’t be surprised if the butch you are today is not the butch you will be tomorrow.

Always, JT

LGBT, ETC, ETC PRIDE

Well, here we are again…. Annual celebration of who and what we want to be and who and what we want to be with.  There’s something fascinating that comes with age – getting a historical perspective on life around you.

I remember when the Pride Parade began where I live.  It was just pure joy to have somewhere to finally shout out “I’m gay and I’m proud!”  Stand hand in hand with your girlfriend.  Kiss your girlfriend in public.  Ride atop the float of your favorite organization or walk with members of your favorite cause.  At the time, that cause was AIDS.  We joined together not only to celebrate the fact that we were attracted to the same sex but to say we were important, we counted as human beings, and we deserved respect, support, concern and help for a major health crisis effecting HUMAN BEINGS.  Who we slept with was a mute point compared with who we were losing to a disease that damned so many as “being punished for their sin” by the so-called righteous population.

Underneath the politics we spout as justification for our annual gathering is the big draw  – parties and people.  Mix and mingle.  Get tipsy or washed out drunk.  Meet someone new for the night, maybe for life.  Whatever that means.

I guess I’m sitting here thinking about why I want to go to the parade.  Do I need a parade to be proud at this point in my life? Do I need to go out and get drunk, stumble up and down the streets, seeking old friends who are equally festive?  Do I need to be in this throng of thousands to feel like my life is worth living?  If we are celebrating the beginning of the gay political movement (aka Stonewall Riots) then what is the connection?

On July 4th we barbecue, drink, party, watch fireworks and ball games…. is there any mention of what the day means, really?  Do we understand what was done then so that we can have now?  I ask these same questions about the Pride Parade today.  I ask them of myself.  So, what do I feel is what I need to celebrate “pride”?  Is it getting sweaty in the heat with thousands of people or being at home with my wife, enjoying the fact that because of those who stood up in the past, we can share a home today and a life together.

It may not be legal here yet, but we can call each other “wife” and it’s understood that this is not some role play or sexual position designation.  We really mean it.  That because of those who continue to fight for “us,” we can have holy unions, marriage equality protests, be married in the eyes of God, and have the freedom to continue to fight for the benefits of marriage afforded to all persons who willingly make this kind of commitment to each other.  Maybe instead of spending $65-85 a ticket for an open-bar event, should donate that money to one of our local LGBT organizations or one that is fighting for equal marriage rights. And then celebrate with family and friends at home….

God knows I don’t mean to sound like some fuddy duddy who’s forgotten how to have fun.  Nor do I want to sound like those who take their history and existence for granted and now thinks we should all pack it up and go back to being seen but not heard.  I guess what I’m trying to do is find my motivation and the meaning in my decisions.  What is it that I need from today? What is it I need to spend my money on?  It’s not what I used to need, that much I have figured out.

I’m not sure whether we will go to the parade yet.  When I figure it out, I guess I’ll let you know…. JT

Daddy’s Day

Happy Father’s Day all you Daddy’s out there – be you male or female!

We arrive at the day when all good femmes shower their butches with all kinds of wonderful delights. Okay, I know you take care of us all year long, but this weekend why not remind your butch just how much you love your “daddi”?

What’s your butch’s favorite fantasy – not yet realized? I have never been to a strip club. I’ve never had a lap dance. Yes, I’ve seen the go-go girls at the bars. I’ve tipped ‘em and tipped quite well. Just trying to make a living like the rest of us. Anyway, my wife is quite aware of this fact and that I don’t want a stranger doing lap dances on me. I prefer my wife, thank you.

The woman in my life is gorgeous, so much so that back in the day she posed in a Texas based “playboy-esque” magazine. So, of course, I want my wife when it comes to these things. When I told her that I didn’t want to have the stripper experience unless it was with her, she gave it to me – as a VERY pleasant surprise…. That’s the key, ladies. Surprise us when we least expect it. You will be rewarded!

We were listening to music in the kitchen (very large kitchen/dance floor). During a cleverly orchestrated moment, Nina Simone’s “Do I Move You” began to play. And so did my wife. She told me to close my eyes and imagine myself in a strip club and her as my personal stripper. She put all the moves on me, and let me tell you, this was one of those cases where reality was way better than fantasy. My lady knows what she is doing, honest to god. And she keeps the surprises “coming”…. hee hee.

A hint about keeping love alive, ladies…. Don’t unwrap all your candy at one time. If you know how to do every sexual act imagined and yet to be imagined by ordinary human beings, don’t reveal it all in a few days, weeks or even months. Try years. Always keep something in your bag of tricks. That goes for femme and butch alike. That’s what makes everyday a potentially sexual holiday.

Skip the tie. Choose the surprise. Happy Father’s Day, Ya’ll!

Before ‘Born This Way’: Gay Anthems Before Gaga

Before ‘Born This Way’: Gay Anthems Before Gaga.

The Graduate Blog: Gay 101 for Straight Folks

The Graduate Blog: Gay 101 for Straight Folks.

How to Handle Your Intended Butch

What does it mean to love a butch? To answer that question, you have to figure out what it is you find attractive about butches. Is it because they’re “handsome”? Is it because they’re the closest thing to a boyfriend without having a “boy” friend? Is it the way she kicks ass, works on the car, takes out the garbage, brings you flowers and opens the doors for you? Is it the way she feels on top of you or beneath you as you straddle her body? Is it the excitement of role play?

Phew… enough questions. I started feeling like a worn-out knock-knock joke.

I have to remind all you butch fans, too, that a butch is not a butch is not a butch. You can identify butch qualities that you find attractive, but you must take every butch on her own merits. Don’t try to pigeon hole your intended butch. Get to know her and find out what makes the butch-in-her tick.

Now, the butch-in-me takes a long time to “talk.” I can seduce. I can romance. I can whisper sweet nothings and dirty somethings. I can bullshit. I can sell the Devil a share of hell, but it takes a while for me to open up about certain things – like I don’t just like “to top.” I like the feeling and psychosexual excitement of a woman beneath me, wrapping her legs around me, dirty dancing against my crotch with her ass, etc, etc, etc. I like to pack. I like the thought of packing. I like to close my eyes, lean back and enjoy a mock-blow job. Okay, if my wife didn’t know this already, I might not be writing this…. or I’d have an alter ego in some RP site.

But you can get to know these things if you are a mindful and clever femme. Pay attention to what your butch watches, makes comments on, has for pinups or wallpaper on her comptuer/laptop/phone. Pay attention to where her eyes wander…. not to get into some jealous scene but to learn what gets her attention. Pay attention to how she touches you, seduces you, tries to set you up into certain potential positions or situations.

And if you’ve got an open door, ask. Don’t hound. Don’t pester. Have a good conversation – share what you like. Let your intended butch get to know your femme. Slowly. Seductively. We love to chase. There’s nothing more attractive than a woman who’s available but not desperate. A woman who can play it cool, even if she’s burning inside. Note – cool does not mean frigid. Remember, a first kiss does not have to involve mutual tonsil examinations. And butches have to keep their lust in check, too. The women I’ve dated did not appreciate being treated like the last pork chop on the dinner table. Seduction has a great power and involves finesse and class. It gets the juices flowing and ignites that wonderful feeling of desire.

Allow time to miss each other. Don’t text your butch to death and don’t guilt your butch into texting you. Don’t smother. The worst mistake is smothering. Beyond the just met U-Haul effect…. I mean you already are making wedding plans, designing your house, and saying “the rest of our lives” after less than a month. Or you’re talking about weddings and you don’t even have enough money to put you under one roof. Of course we get excited when we meet someone, and we do have that socialized dream of meeting that “one” who will be love at first site and the end-all to our search, but it takes time to really determine if this is just a short-term blast or something you are willing to invest in and turn into a prosperous partnership.

Lastly, don’t make yourself out to be a “debit” or money-pit-mate. Butches will work their assess off to have what’s important to them and to give their femme the most they can, but if you become a money pit and all your butch is doing is working to spend and have nothing but a few good times, memories, tweets, and some new pics on Facebook, then when the excitement wears off, your butch is going to be pissed, and they’re going to build up resentments. Even great sex loses its appeal if I’ve got to borrow gas money the next morning. If you want more than a good time, be more than a good time. Show your butch you will be an asset and a good helpmate to accumulate wealth. While money doesn’t buy love, it sure can make being in love a lot more enjoyable.

Well, that’s my ramble for the night, and happy butch hunting!

JT

Relationships – Asset or Debit

Having a relationship is a lot more than physical or sexual attraction, although most times these attractions are the genesis of our relationships. Too many times we find out later that being with that good looking person or having hot sex isn’t enough. The dream cloud clears and the world can be seen you have to deal with it. All of a sudden you discover the humanity of each other. You wake up with bad breath. You burp. You fart. You sneeze. You get sick. You have a belly. You sweat. You stink. You have to scratch in places that normally remain hidden and unknown unless sex is involved. You don’t always wake up with naturally pink lips, mascara, hair combed, and clean-shaven. Ugh…. did the prince/princess turn back into a frog???

Well, we don’t turn into frogs. We become real people beneath the robes. What kind of people we are is what makes the difference, and it’s usually not what we get to until it’s almost or definitely too late. Bring the U-Haul back around and pack it up again! But could the break up have been avoided?

There are important aspects of life that we skip in the dating process, perhaps because these topics simply are not sexy. Talking about financial behaviors, relationships, the truth about why our past relationships ended (not just the sanitized make-sure-we-look-good version), and what we want to the point of being willing to lose this potential mate is not the usual part of dating. And even when we do, we don’t usually tell the whole truth.

And when we get to the truth, then what? Well, that’s when you decide whether to re-negotiate or evacuate. The process might not just be a one time deal. It might require several “meetings” but it can be done, especially if essentially you share a common foundation for your relationship. If you don’t, and that will become more and more apparent as you try to fit square pegs into round holes, then you do the hard but most loving thing and let go.

Relationships are wonderful things. You might go through one or one hundred. What makes the difference is being honest about the differences (the commonalities are the easy part) and then determining how to work with those differences so they work in your favor and for the prosperity of your relationship together.

Just Whisper Daddy

Well, I’ve written about what I’ve termed the “butch brain,” and I recently had confirmation that I do possess such a critter. The weekend was incredible. We had a great time. We cooked together, danced in the kitchen, worked on the lawn, and took a long shower together afterwards. It had been a long time since we took the time to share a shower. The hot water bounced off our skin as we lathered each other up. Vanilla infused the steam, and I closed my eyes as my soapy hands glided over her skin. Gently, she pushed me back and went down on her knees. I propped up a leg and….

We managed to get out of the shower and into the bed without making the floor too wet. I quickly lit candles while she dried off and got under the covers. she watched me as i dried off, smiling as the candle light danced off her golden blond hair. When I got into bed, she lay back as I lean over her and we kissed. We kissed deeply, lips and tongues exploring, seducing, and dancing in rhythms that soon our bodies began to imitate.

I ran my hand over her long, soft legs as she slowly opened them wide enough for me to slide my hand across her thigh and downward. She was hot, and with every minute, my body followed suit. When the time was right, she pulled my hand hard into her. I pressed my body against her, touching her, my mouth against her lips, cheek, neck and ear. She pulled me hard as our bodies found a united rhythm from our mouths down to the parts of ourselves beneath the soft sheet. “Oh, Daddy,” she whispered. And at once my whole body shuddered. With each play of words combined with her calling me Daddy, my mind swirled, my body ached, and I began to fly.

And as she grabbed my arm, pressing her nails into my shoulder, I collapsed with her in a psychosexual orgasm that shook me almost to the point of physical orgasm. “Just whisper Daddy” I told her as she helped me join her in “eXstacy”.