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| [via hellogirls] |
Hiya quim-tiddlers!
It fucking snowed this morning.
It fucking snowed and Timothy Maxwell Thumperton bit me when I picked him up.
And I woke up at 5:30 a.m. and couldn't get back to sleep.
And my scooter won't start and I broke my favorite eyeliner and CJ ate the piece of cake I was saving and I owed the feds money for taxes for the first time ever and Timmy bit me and it snowed.
When Timmy bit me, I actually got tears in my eyes.
Not because my finger was hurt, but because my feelings were hurt.
You guys, a rabbit hurt my feelings.
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| [via switchteams] |
However! Other stuff makes up for the steaming mess that is today.
Working at Groupon makes me happy.
Apart from actually liking my job for the first time in my life, I also recently ended my Undying Quest:
I found another lesbian at work.
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| [via hellogirls] |
Christ on a bike, it only took six months.
Now, when I first started my job, I thought there were shit tons of lesbians working there.
Everyone was my age, there was no dress code, and every single girl treated each morning as a new opportunity to show off choppy, asymmetrical haircuts and obscure girlband t-shirts.
I thought the receptionist, who led me into the interview room, was a mo.
I thought half my seatmates were dykes.
Sock hats. Skinny jeans. Multi-colored hair. Facial piercings. Flat shoes. Sassiness.
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| [via hellofromwhereyouwanttobe] |
Women who made grammar puns at lunch, while everyone laughed appreciatively.
They looked - all of them - like this:
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| [via lesbianswholooklikeumlesbians] |
I was thrilled.
Delighted with my new co-workers, I confidently began my investigations.
Surely there was a core group of lesbians somewhere, organizing a queer dance party and plotting to protest the designer fur coat store up the street.
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| [via themostcake.co.uk] |
I would find them.
The weeks passed.
Nothing.
I made friends. Went out. Asked around.
I still had hope.
I mean, there were writers sitting not 10 feet away from me that looked exactly like Rachel Maddow.
There were girls in the image department who were channeling Hilary Swank in Boys Don't Cry.
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| [by katherine] |
There were just too many Brandi Carlile concert t-shirts on any given Tuesday for there not to be lesbians in my office.
But weeks turned into months, and months turned up a realization:
In my giant office building on Chicago's Miracle Mile, with hundreds of hipster kids working on my floor alone, with literally. hundreds. of girls my age all working on the same project, going to the same shows, and drinking together after work every night....
Marooned!
Surrounded by tales of what everyone's boyfriend said last night!
A cold wind whipped through the office cafeteria, cutting into my heart with icy fingers.
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| [via cuntology] |
I loved my job, but I really missed working with ladyfags.
The snow came down. The months went by.
I swallowed my pain, made friends with the kickass straight girls in my office, and learned to live with loss.
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| [via lesfemmes] |
BUT THEN!
One Sunday in March, while CJ and I were sitting in a coffeeshop, in walked...one of my bosses.
Her name was Alma.
She was one of the editors who used to tear my writing to pieces when I was just starting out.
A pretty girl was with her.
The cafe was really busy.
There was only one empty table....and it was next to me and CJ.
I waved back awkwardly, halfheartedly beckoning to the table next to us while praying she was getting coffee to go.
Alma, who is never awkward, sauntered over.
Alma: Hey Krista. What are you doing here? Do you live around here?
Me: Hiiiiii omigod weird! Do you, uh, live around here too? Um, it's so weird you're here! Oh! This is my girlfriend, CJ.
Alma: Cool. This is my girlfriend, Jordan.
Her girlfriend.
Alma's girlfriend.
OMG ALMA WAS A LESBIAN!!!
You guys, my jaw hit the floor.
I was the only gayelle at work!
Faggettes, I was so used to being the only lesbian at work that I was kind of shocked to have the title yanked out of my martyr hands.
Alma and I have been tight ever since.
Hanging around the office together.
And man, it is so. nice. to have another ladygay in the office.
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| [via girlswholikegirls] |
It just is.
One day, when Alma and I were having coffee in the break room, she made a lil' confession:
I was her first dyke friend.
She had never had one before!
Had never been a part of the gay scene.
Was almost my age, had been out for seven years, and had never had a lesbian friend before.
How was that even possible?
When I came out, I was lost.
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| (via grayskymorning) |
I had just left the only community I'd ever been a part of - the Mormon community.
My sister was incredibly supportive, but my parents wouldn't talk to me.
My straight friends didn't understand.
As I understood it, the God I knew had, apparently, only been listening when I was planning on marrying a returned missionary.
Gay people saved me.
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| [Tawnya] |
My college queer student union.
Gay bars.
My new friends at the burlesque show.
Queers swooped me up in their gorgeous arms and hugged me tight and told me it was ok to be happy and like women and look like a freak and be really, really angry.
Apart from being fun as hell and throwing great parties, the gays also split my white, privileged, uptight brain open.
Through homos, and my driving need to be accepted by my new family, I met people I would never have reached out to, even a year earlier.
I met my first girlfriend, Justine, who was dancing at a bar called the Gay 90's, when Tawnya literally shoved me at her.
Y'allfags, here's how sheltered I was:
The first thing I thought, upon seeing Justine dancing, was, "Woah, an Asian lesbian."
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| [via dapperQ] |
It had never even crossed my mind that there could be Asian lesbians.
I began to meet amazing people.
Transgender folk. Old dykes. Delicate boys and bears. Baby dykes. Burlesque dancers. Bike punks. Leather daddies, queer Christians, strippers, drag queens, rollergirls.
Gays with babies.
Women who laughed a lot and never wore high heels and women who were over 50 and said "fuck" whenever they fuckin' felt like it.
They took me into the community when I needed friends and love the most - as is, no questions asked, no to-do list of improvements demanded.
Now that's Christ-like love, sluts.
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| [via tomboyfemme] |
I learned from my new family.
What drama meant. What being a friend meant.
What addiction was.
What acceptance meant.
The queers fucking raised me into adulthood.
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| [via heykyle] |
Not to get too sappy on you sluts, but when Alma told me I was her first lesbian friend, my heart exploded.
How had she survived this long???
Amazed, I asked Alma who she talked about girlproblems with.
She shrugged and said, "I don't, really."
I tried to wrap my head around it.
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| [via fuckyeahdangerouscurves] |
Tried to picture my life without having spent the last eight years so fully ensconced in queer culture that at one point, I realized I knew exactly four straight girls, and three of them had definitely "dallied."
I couldn't even imagine life without homos.
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| [via lezbhonest] |
All this time, Alma had been a card-carrying member to an awesome club she'd never even gone to.
She'd never seen a drag show! She'd never gone to a dyke party! She'd never read Hothead Paisan!
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| (by Diane DiMassa) |
OH MY GOD.
We had some serious catching up to do.
But...why does having gay friends matter, anyway?
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| [via tinytot] |
Well. It doesn't matter.
To some people.
Some gays are totally fine being the only one in their friend group.
In fact, I know a couple mo's who really just don't give a shit.
"Friends are friends," they snort, batting away my "ohmigodyou'regay?let'sbebestfriends" overtures.
And that's so. Friends are friends.
Friends love you for who you are, not who you sleep with.
But I need other dykes, too.
It's not an exclusionist thing.
It's a physical need.
Even though I have wonderful straight friends .
It's just such a comfort to have dyke-minded individuals (heh) around you sometimes.
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| (by leelolesbo) |
Just as Mormons go to BYU to be surrounded at college with other Mormons, and classic car people get together so they can talk about '67 Mustang engines ad nauseum without fear of boring anyone, I need to be around lesbians so we can talk about dykey stuff and understand one another instantly.
Faggettes, I get so many letters from y'all.
So many of us are lonely.
There are so many dykes who think they're the only lesbian at their school.
The only lezzer at work.
The only lesbian with kids, the only dyke over 40, the only mo in the whole damn town.
The only lesbian in the world.
But it's not true! It's just fucking not.
You can find a community of your own.
You will find your family.
Even if all you've got is the internet right now.
