I wish you were gay.

Ugh, I know this is wrong, but:

 

Betty White.

 

Don’t judge me either. Because, you know you want her too, well maybe 60 years ago.

 

She has something a lot of my other celebrity women do not have: wit. I am a sucker for a smart lady with a quick timing.

 

It is kind of my weakness.

 

Plus I am not a new Betty White fan, I like Betty White pre- Golden Girls.

 

I am talking about her stints on Match Game and other really old game shows.

 

I don’t care what you say; I love Betty White.

 

 

Gay marriage, oh wait, no, divorce.

Texas is in a pickle, and I mean that in the gayest way possible.

 

Now faced with the second attempt by a married same-sex couple to have a divorce, things are getting confusing, after all how do you end a marriage that clearly was outside the definition of marriage.

 

As an American, I think that rather than pushing Gay Marriage, I should be pushing Gay Divorce.

 

I think we can all agree that the most cherished gift that we have as citizens is the right to leave our partners, married or otherwise.

 

I am putting my advocacy for Gay marriage.

 

That’s right. As a gay-American I want a divorce, and I want it now.

Happy Valentine’s Day.

Why men don’t always get the girl, and I do.

After browsing the internet for something that I could do nice for my girlfriend on Valentine’s Day, I found something that proved that being a lesbian was the only way to go.

 

This.

 

Somehow, I do not think that learning how to train your girlfriend will help any of the men that read the article.

 

Especially if said man forgets to clear out his browsing history and his girlfriend reads all the ways he plans to deal with her “whining” and “disobedience.”

 

It just won’t end well.

 

It really won’t go well if she gets to the part about begging:

 

Begging

 

She always “begs” with her hands on her hips — never on all fours. All you hear from her is, “I want this,” “Give me that” (on your credit card, of course) and “My girlfriend’s boyfriend bought her a car — why are you so cheap?”. Not to mention that she expects to be regularly taken out for expensive dinners.

 

I’m not saying that we don’t all in someways “train” our partners to have certain reactions–(just kidding sweetheart). But there are subtle things that we all do to elicit a certain response from our partner.

 

However, it is most important to not equate a girlfriend, or I guess boyfriend (to be fair) with an animal. Even if all you want is for them to get on all fours.

 

The danger zone.

No, not that one.

 

I am talking about the danger zone that occurs between two people that have dated, broken up, and then not moved to different states.

 

 

 

It happens with everyone. The it’s over-maybe we can be friends-I wish you would die-look at me ignoring you-why are you ignoring me-shit-fest that is the end of a relationship.

 

It always happens, no matter how mature we all think we are.

 

However, my problem does not come from my ex. No she and I have pretty much gotten past all of those stages and moved into the even though we live right by each other we never magically see each other phase, which I have to say, I don’t mind.

 

There is a whole other realm of danger zone that does not even include people you have dated.

 

This I would like to call, Flirting with the Devil.

 

The devil, in this case, to be fair, is Me. And we have been over this several times, I still am not sure if I am a good or bad lesbian.

 

I will openly admit that I am a bad person to be around. I have my life pretty well together, with the occasional mega-meltdown.

 

I am not a saint (but I am a lesbian).

 

Back to my point:

 

In the lesbian kingdom, it is not always easy finding other prey. If you are not too into the lesbian or gay club scene, it is not always easy to pin the rainbow flag on the lesbian.

 

It comes down to asking questions, sometimes even the dreaded question: So, um, are you gay?

 

However, as the danger zone implies, there are worse things to say than the “are you gay” question. And that is the overzealous assumption.

 

I would much rather you ask if I am a lesbian than look at me, when I am not out with my girlfriend, and assume I am one.

 

However, sometimes this thing called the internet gets in the way of everything.

 

Instead of forming human connections, finding out about people, learning what they are really like. You just have to look on facebook and see if they hide their “interested in” section and go “BINGO- she is a lesbian.”

 

Thus rather than learning anything about the person you make the fatal math error of:

 

one lesbian + one lesbian = lesbian couple.

 

Not good.

 

It is not that I do not like dating other lesbians. Or that I don’t think people should be together. It is just I like to kick it a little old school when it comes to courting women. Ladies.

 

My point is, I don’t like it when people assume I am their new love because I too am a lesbian.

 

It is a little to cliche for me but, my heart will not and has never been for sale to the nearest lesbian.

 

No one likes being trapped in a situation of a Why don’t you like me? Because really, we are all adults. Well at least we should be, because I am surely not going to rob the cradle for anyone.

 

Anyway.

 

 

The final end all is this:

 

Fellow Lesbians,

 

There are enough people out there that can put us down and judge our lifestyle choices.
So perhaps we can, just on the basis of common ground, realize that there are more important things that dueling over other women.

 

Like maybe being able to marry them.

Grown-up lesbian.

I am getting to the point in my life where sitting on my parents couch for long periods of time crosses the line from just spending time at home to 20-something creeper mooching off her parents.

 

[Please note: I only just turned twenty so I still have an acceptable mooching period left.]

 

But it is my senior year of college, and at some point after graduation I need to grow up.

 

That scares the shit out of me. And yes, that is the only way to classify it.

 

I have just finished off the grad-school applications and now get to wait to see if I get in anywhere. Depending on how that all turns out, I may actually have to get a real job.

 

Which, again, scares the crap out of me. Since I am fairly certain I have no real skills, besides my overwhelming like-ability factor. [Please see post A wonderful, charming lesbian.]

 

My point is: I don’t know how to be a grown-up, let alone a lesbian grown-up.

 

Although I am pretty sure they are the exact same.

 

Still, I don’t see why someone won’t just give me a job for the wonderful lesbian that I am.

 

Ten reasons not to call my girlfriend a slut.

1. She is not a slut. That should be a given, but just in case.

 

2. She has bigger muscles than you probably do. Seriously, she has some guns.

 

3. She has better grammar than you, by far. No-no, really so don’t think you are winning any favors when you write “their sluts” because she realizes that you meant to say “they’re sluts” because clearly she and I do not own any sluts.

 

4. You have red hair. Well you reading this post right now may not have red hair, but it only makes matters worse when Chuckie Finster calls your girlfriend a slut, which she is not.

 

5. She scares me when she gets angry, which in turn will scare you. And trust me, it is scary.

 

6. She says things like “I will put —-’s head through a wall.” And trust me she is the feminine-lady-type, so outbursts like this are not common.

 

7. She buys me breakfast. Fine, so that does not prove she is not a slut, which she is not, but it is very nice of her to do so. My ex never bought me breakfast and if you make my new-wonderful girlfriend upset to the point that she no longer wants to go to breakfast–I will hunt you down.

 

8. She is pretty.

 

9. Even if she was a slut, which she is not, she would not sleep with you.

 

10. You wish you were a slut.

I feel like a…

 

A really big duie pyle for not posting in forever.

 

But it is so hard to be a lesbian during finals week.

 

Okay maybe it is not hard to be a lesbian, so much as it is hard to be a lesbian blogger during finals week.

 

But I swear, no more being a duie pyle.

 

I am back.

Not a fag.

Sometimes I get touchy about word choice.

 

 

It is sometimes a little overwhelming to hear people say fag, homo, queer or whatever is the new word of the day.

 

 

But I know I use those words too. So I won’t pretend I am somehow opposed to people using them in general.

 

A few weeks ago on South Park, they did an episode on redefining the word fag.

 

I must admit I actually watched the episode. And I laughed.

 

Some people did not see the humor in it. I can understand how the term is a touchy subject. I would not like to be called a fag.

 

Yet, having watched the whole episode of South Park, I know that the term fag was not directed at me. Or really any of my fellow homosexuals.

 

The point of episode was to mock the use of the word fag and how it has changed over time to really not be directed at gays in general.

 

I actually enjoyed the episode. And I feel sort of bad now. As one blogger put it: “Unlike the way I wrote this post, South Park used an offensive word often and unapologetically, and it is easy to see how the satire might be lost on viewers.“

 

I know he has a point. I know it should never be funny to call someone a fag. Sometimes it is hard to find humor in something that has caused so many people pain for so long.

 

But sometimes we all put too much pressure on the words we use. Sometimes we need to let the old definitions go in order to make progress. Like this word.

 

More importantly: Who killed Kenny?

Ay dios mio: Gay marriage south of the boarder.

In the land of my forefathers something amazing has happened:

 

 

A Judge Allowed First Gay Marriage in Argentina – NYTimes.com.

 

 

I know, exciting.