Saturday, February 11, 2012

I'm a Statistic

That's the number of lesbians who are married to a partner of the opposite sex. Lesbians who are married to men.

I'm in a loving, affectionate, largely platonic heterosexual marriage. I say “largely platonic” because over the past year, our sexual activity has dwindled drastically and is more or less non-existent at this point (it is currently 9 Feb and we've had sex once this year). We love each other, and all of the other affection is there, but we just don't have sex. And I'm kind of okay with that. I jokingly said to someone last year that if Ark and I never had sex again and I never had a penis inside me again, I'd really be just fine with that. I said, I don't think I'll miss it much... if at all.

Maybe that's when I started to worry. But it's certainly not when I first started to see signs.

The first girl I loved was a friend in elementary school. She was beautiful, popular (at least in my eyes), and she was nice to me. Our friendship continued through middle school, even though I'd moved, and into high school, where we rarely saw one another but we'd had a class or two together. I remember when I was in elementary, I had my first (and as it turned out, my only) sleep-over birthday party, and though I'd invited all of my girl friends, she was the only one to attend. She's still my friend on social networking sites, and I will never, ever tell her I love her.

Even at a young age, I never really understood when my girl friends would say “Oh, he's so cute!” I'd look over at the boy in question and think, okay, this is what cute is. Maybe I thought I was just slow on the hormones (even though I started my period young, at the age of ten) and I would eventually think boys were cute and want a boyfriend as bad as all the other girls did. Even when I did eventually get a boyfriend, he was very feminine (he's quite gay now), and we started dating as kind of a “we've been friends” and he'd already dated literally everyone else in our class. I never sought out male companionship; I just fell into relationships with male friends, and even after break-ups, remained as good friends as I could with them. I genuinely cared about them and I suppose I always knew something was missing from my relationship with them, I just didn't know what.

In high school, I had a crush on a female transfer student. I came out as bisexual verbally to my sister first, then, and explained I was nervous and that I wanted to wear something to impress her. She suggested I talk to Mom about it, and I did... boy, was I terrified. Though Mom had always preached that she didn't care “what” we brought home “as long as they make you happy,” I was still afraid. What girl wouldn't be?

But my mom, bless every ounce of her soul, reacted in a TOTALLY unexpected way. She was ecstatic. She was so happy. She told me even she had some girlfriends over the years but she was afraid of what my sister and I would think. (Well, Mom, I wouldn't have given two shits and I bet my sister wouldn't have, either.)

After that, I breathed a little easier. My crush was straight and had a boyfriend back home, so my efforts to impress her were futile, but I tried anyway. (I still have a thing for accents from a certain country.)

I was never really enamoured with penises.

Let's just leave it at that.

That's not to say that I don't enjoy sex with Ark; I do, and though it just about never happens anymore, I told him tonight that I hope our sexual relationship is not over. I enjoy the closeness, and I genuinely do enjoy getting him off. I don't know why it's easier or more appealing for me to have sex with Ark than with any other man (the idea of it is repulsive, honestly). I explained to him, “I just like all the other stuff in the relationship more.”

Is it possible to be a lesbian and be married to a man?

Is it possible to have a working platonic relationship with your husband?

I should rephrase that. Is it possible for me to have a working, mostly platonic relationship with my husband? Yes, yes I think it is.

This brings me to a new problem: Will most lesbians, and the amazing lesbian/queer community here where I live, accept me as I am?

Probably not.

It is very hard for a marginalized person like me to get into the very cliquey and judgmental groups they live in.

Wait a minute, I just read that sentence over again. Did you? Cause if you see the same thing I see, you just might laugh out loud. If they're cliquey and judgmental, why do I want to be "accepted" by them? Is it because I want the kinship? I am certainly not judgmental—I accept people as they are. I'm often shocked by how racist, sexist and hateful queers can be. We are already the “Other.” We are all linked—we have common ground—in that we love differently. If the community as a whole (I'm not speaking for individuals, as I do have some lesbian friends who are just fine with my situation) shuns me because of the way I live and the way I love, I guess I should just let it go and not worry about it.

Ark and I are doing great. We're treading carefully, but the playfulness, the joy, the laughter, has returned. I'm happier... and so is he, if I may be so bold as to say so. So what if other people look at our relationship, as it is, and think it can't be done? So what if they look at us and think we're crazy? We're doing it. And damn it, we might be crazy, but we're also lovin' it.

Thursday, February 2, 2012

My Carefully Scheduled Life

My week starts on Friday. I get up early for work, take a shower, don chef uniform, and go make breakfast for the masses. After a long day of cooking and prepping for the weekend, I clock out and usually I'll go be with Gabriel for a couple hours until Ark gets off work. I'm always hopeful we'll have sex—especially lately, especially with her new toy, which I suspect she enjoys just as much as I do, if not more. But if we don't, that's okay too. It's just nice to get a Gabriel refresher before the long weekend, my work-week, during which I don't usually see her.

On Saturday, I wake up and go to work and work my butt off again. Ark gets off a couple hours earlier on Saturdays, so I'll head home and usually catch a nap before he gets home. Saturdays are Quiet Time At Home With Arkanum.

Sunday: wash, rinse & repeat. The place where Ark works is closed on Sunday and he has designated chores to do on this day. Sometimes I'll clean a bit when I get home, too. Lately, we've been watching Once Upon a Time on ABC—it's right up our alley, plus we really like Ginnifer Goodwin.

Monday's a bit different. If I didn't pack Sunday night before going to sleep, I pack a bag with a fresh set of clothes and the essentials—deodorant, allergy meds, etc. Monday night is my Night With Gabriel.

Tuesday, I try to sleep in as late as possible, which usually ends up being somewhere between 7 and 9 in the morning. Gabriel doesn't like to linger in bed in the morning very long. We go to a local café for breakfast, then sometimes I head home if I have things to do, or I'll spend the rest of the day with her. The evening is spent with Arkanum, watching Glee and New Girl and Raising Hope, and usually having pizza, but we really need to cut back on that delicious, delicious food.

Wednesday it's back to work. I never really know what I'm doing on Wednesday—I'm supposed to see Sir, but I haven't been seeing him regularly for months. As a safe bet, I just don't make plans, and I assume I have the afternoon to myself unless he tells me otherwise. If it's nice out, I'll ride my bike. Or I'll stay in, and take a nap, or read. Or maybe I'll visit a friend. I don't get a lot of time to myself, so the days where I do, I really treasure it.

Then, Thursday is Errand And Chore Day with Arkanum. We get paid, pay bills, and go shopping. Then we come home and are usually exhausted. Then, more TV shows, cuddling, and bed.

Friday, it starts over again.

Every week is the same—or close enough to where the difference doesn't really matter. I crave change. I need it. So, every once in a while, I say, “I'm taking the week off.” And I do what I want. Next week is such a week. It's My Week and I'll do What I Damn Well Feel Like Doing. Last time, I gutted the back part of my apartment and threw out/gave away tons of stuff. Maybe this time, it'll be the front half.

I particularly enjoy having all the extra time with my husband. While we live together, we don't really spend Quality Time together as often as we should or as often as we'd like to. So taking a week off means I'll be home a lot more, and can focus some extra energy on him. A week off also recharges me, and not seeing Gabriel for a week makes me really look forward to seeing her again on Monday. Sometimes I feel like everyone is in demand of my energy, and I never have any for myself—someone's feeling sad, or sick, or needy in some way and eventually I run out of resources and that's all I see them as—needy. And that's not a good way to see someone you love.

So a break—a vacation—from my poly schedule, is good for everyone.

Times Are a'Changin

Hey, TBC readers.

This blog's gonna be changing. The focus, the info, everything. Not too much (I'm still with everyone I was with, and we're poly and happy) but because I've gone through a lot of Big Deal changes lately, I feel that the blog should change with me, especially so I still have something to write about.

That said, I'm very sorry about the long absence. It was never my intention to fall off the face of the planet, as it were, but things happen and I've been a very busy kitten. Changes will come, and it will be good.