Pleading the 5th

So over this weekend I had the unfortunate responsibility of interacting with some police officers. No worries, Sapphists, I'm not in trouble, nor is anyone I love. However, there were police, in my suite, asking my questions. One of the things they asked was how many people lived in my suite, and where my suitemate was. She was with her girlfriend. I, completely without thinking, told the officer that she was with "her friend."

When I was thinking about this later, I was reminded of an event earlier in the year, at the now-infamous Stiles-Morse screw. While we were waiting to be processed by the officers coming around to check people's IDs, my (female) date and I were holding hands since we were so frightened. However, when the officer got within eyeshot, we both let go of each other without even making eye contact.

I'm out'n'proud with 95% of the people I interact with. Why is it that when around police, I (and I don't think I'm alone in this) tend to hide my sexuality? I've never personally been harassed by police officers for being queer, nor have any of my friends, that I'm aware of, and yet I've come to implicitly distrust them. Have any of y'all been in situations with police, positive or negative, where your sexuality has come into play? Is it unjust of me to mistrust them? Let me know in the comments!

Epiphany

Last night, I had an epiphany. While it wasn’t the most pivotal moment of my life thus far by any degree (that happened today when I watched Ke$ha’s new video and heard the exclamation “Muenster is like edible lactose gold!” but I digress), it was something that had always been in the back of my mind. You see, last night being Saturday and of course being filled with all the expectations of a stereotypical college weekend, I went out… hard. Naturally, the chemicals in my body caused my philosophical side to come out, which means I talk and think a lot, usually in that order and usually about deep and meaningful subjects like hooking up.

“Guys,” I said to my suitemates, “Guys, really, listen. I love women!”

“We know,” they said laughing.

“No, really,” I protested, grabbing them by their shoulders and then throwing my own head in my hands, “They’re just… so beautiful!” (I feel it worthy of note to mention that when I am under the influence of anything, my voice gets about 4 octaves higher, which means all of this was said in a Minnie Mouse-like voice.)

Actually, this is an apt depiction of what I act like...

They, as always, laughed at my shenanigans, and we went on our merry way.

We arrived at our destination and stumbled onto the dance floor, shaking our things to Katy Perry’s “Firework.” We danced, we laughed, we bonded, all that good stuff, but we were a group of women at a frat party, so outsiders occasionally interrupted our fun times.

Greek Symposiums: Original Frat Parties

Here is where my epiphany took place. As I was deftly negotiating myself out of a potentially sticky (haha) situation, I realized something: I have no way to tell when to hit on a woman at a party. Parties here are so hetero-inclined that I wouldn’t know the first thing to do to see if a girl might be interested in dancing, let alone anything else.

So, what do you do, ladies of Sappho? Is it an awkward let’s-make-eye-contact-and-maybe-she’ll-take-the-hint-and-come-over kind of deal? Is it acceptable to be aggressive and risk offending someone? Or should we invent some kind of internationally accepted signal in order to communicate, “Yes, I’m single. Yes, I like women. Yes, I would love to share a dance with you,” or even “Yes, I’m single. Yes, I like women, but hell no, I’m not touching that!” because then, at least, I could accept my sheer lack of game without question.

"Yes!"

"Ah, hell no!"

Irrational fears?

So i just found out that i get to (have to?) meet my girlfriend's dad tomorrow! And somehow I'm kind of panic stricken about it! I think it might be that she isn't out to him and so I'll be meeting him as her "best friend". Although this takes some of the pressure that comes from meeting the parents of someone when they know your dating, at the same time Im really scared of messing that up!

Will he know I'm gay? do I pretend to be straight? what if he can tell from the way I look at her/talk to her etc that we are dating?

So much pressure! and so much potential for disaster!

Swoon for Shane McCutcheon

I always like to have a project over vacation. I don’t mean a project like a research project, or a school project, or a redecorate/clean my room project. I don’t mean a project that requires any mental or physical work. I mean a project that makes me sit in my bed, on my laptop, and watch TV until my brains fall out.

Last winter it was Buffy the Vampire Slayer. The winter before that, it was Scrubs. And this winter break, it was that quintessential lesbian icon of television: The L Word. All six seasons. That’s right. I watched seventy 50-minute episodes in 3 weeks. That’s what I mean by a project.

Side note: yes, I did spend time with people. I’m not a recluse. I just didn’t sleep. No big deal.

Anyway.

I was rewatching the first episode of The L Word with one of my closest (and lesbian) friends the other night, and was of course obsessing about Shane. This led to a very interesting discussion, the question being:

Why does everyone love Shane?

This love falls into two categories, of course. (Or maybe three. You decide.) First, there is the incredibly-turned-on-oh-my-GOD lust-love (into which category I fall). And there is of course the oh-my-God-JEALOUS-I-want-to-be-her (into which category my friend falls). Of course, by the end of the pilot episode, my friend wasn’t sure about the strict categorization of her love. It seemed to cross boundaries, and maybe be an even combination of the two types.

So why do we love Shane? Is it her effortless charm, her “nipple-confidence” (as Tina points out in the pilot), or her amazingly adorable smile? Is it her body? Is it her shameless attitude towards sleeping around? Her sweet, damaged, loyal inner nature? Or is it quite simply the knowledge that she could easily get us in bed with a single word, and make it the best night of our lives? Every queer girl I’ve ever talked to about The L Word has something to say about Shane, even if she’s not their favorite character.

At my last count, I had ten pictures of Katherine Moennig saved to my computer. This has to mean something.

So I have a question for YOU, Sapphists. Why do YOU like Shane?

always check your dildo

Airports. Sure, yeah they smell weird, and there are too many people. The smoking lounge is in only one terminal of Atlanta's huge-ass airport, and my plane is never departing from C. So I'm usually a little high-strung. The line at Starbucks is always WAY too long and they never get my drink right. You can't take your water past security. You have to take off your watch and your socks, and my boots are always impossible to put back on unless I sit down somewhere to balance. There are a million reasons why being trapped between point A and B in an airport with a million other people being trapped between point A and B...sucks.

But that's not even why.

(Lindsay, here you go, I'm posting about it).

It's also really hard to travel with toys! Unless you're checking them, but sometimes I only have a carry-on, thus...the problem begins.

The first time I had an (ahem) incident was flying from SF to LA with only a carry-on. One of our dildos were in my bag and I didn't think about it until I just chuckled about it as I passed through security and my bag was going under. SURELY they wouldn't stop me for it.

I hear an older man lean over the guy at the screen, "I'll take this one. Pete, I'll take this one. Yeah. Lemme take it."

He looks right at me, "Ma'am, is this yours?"

I don't know what kind of coffee I drank this morning but I decided it wasn't worth being mortified, and it was better to just play my cool, not care. I mean really, when is the next time I'm going to see beerbellymanwithglassespinchinghistemples again. It DOESN'T MATTER. BREATHE.

"Yep."

"Do you know why you're over here?" He asks as he pats my bag.

"Uh...the dildo?" I say while cocking my head to the side. I kid you not.

He stutters, "Uh.." (awkward laugh) "Yeah...I mean, you see, ma'am, anything with dense material like this is going to set off the security system because there is no way to tell what it is, the computer can't read it, and it kind of looks gun-shaped, you see, I knew what it was right away..."

I stare, nodding. Smiling. My guyfriend Kelsey is waiting ahead for me wondering what the fuck is going on. I forgot to tell him I packed my dildo.

"And ma'am, you see, I wanted to save you any further embarrassment, so that's why I said I would take this bag..."

I looked straight into his eyes and replied, "Aww, thank you so much! But it's totally okay, I'm proud of my cock."

Again, I kid you not.

He straightened up and then laughed. Looked to the side at the line of people marching in through security, and then back at me. Laughed again. Luckily he said,

"Young lady, you just made my day."

Even though it was funny, I will never put a dildo in a carry-on again. What if he had taken it out and waved it around and inspected it, with gloves and everything?! ohmigod.

I'll never do that again, but now I have to worry about something else that I have not yet flown with: nipple piercings. Please god tell me someone knows they don't set off alarms. Apparently Nicole Richie's set off security a couple months ago. I'm flying with my parents and I swear if they take that probe thing and it starts beeping at my tits...

Study Abroad Warning

While looking for a public health internship for the summer (and I'm still looking, so feel free to leave tips in the comments), I was scanning through a list of internships offered by a U.S. Government office that has operations internationally.  All the placements were either in Washington D.C. or Uganda.

Uganda, I thought.  Isn't that the place where homosexuality is about to be punishable by death?

The email I got from the career services people made no mention of the danger, and neither did the website of the program.  If I didn't keep up with gay rights news, I might have applied to intern in a country where my bisexuality made me guilty of a capital crime.  When applying to study or work abroad as a queer person, I am the only one responsible for guaranteeing my safety.  Although Yale restricts travel according to State Department guidelines, there are no additional warnings for students who may belong to groups in acute and specific danger in certain regions.

Yale certainly can't cover every contingency -- I doubt they should warn everyone that students with albinism should stay out of Burundi and Tanzania -- but it would be great if the careers office had a one-sheet handout of known dangerous countries for out students and some links to reliable, frequently updated gay travel guides.

Until Yale offers support, it's essential to do research and make sure queer friends working or studying abroad have done their homework.  A bisexual friend of mine was planning to spend this semester studying in a fairly progressive Middle Eastern country.  I asked her if she planned to closet herself on facebook, and she told me she had decided to leave her data up, and see how it went.

The country where she had planned to study was Egypt, so the point turned out to be moot, but it was important that someone bring up that danger to her early in the planning process.  It would be great if the warning came from Yale.

Choosing to be Straight

I come from a very conservative background. My parents are exceedingly religious and, to a point, homophobic. Needless to say, I have not come out to them as being bisexual; in my opinion, at this point in my life, it would cause far more harm than good.

This creates an interesting predicament for me: as bi, I could simply choose to be with men. Overall, making that decision would make my life a hell of a lot easier. I would never have to explain myself to my family, never have to worry about being disowned or abandoned by people I love, never have awkward moments with my mom in which I have to skirt my sexuality with very clever (not really) wordplay. While my sexuality is not a choice, my actions are, and my actions could fit into the heteronormative lifestyle my parents would prefer.

Mom and Dad Approved

The fact remains, however, that I won’t diminish or dismiss a part of me in order to make other people happy. I am aware of this. I am, actually, hyperaware of this, and a large part of me marvels at my selfishness for choosing to do this.

Why, though? Why take this path? Why not be self sacrificing, a “good daughter” of whom my parents can be proud? Pre-self acceptance, these questions circled around in my head every damn day, every time I saw a beautiful woman and wanted her, every time I kissed or held or fell asleep in the arms of a girl, I wondered what I was doing and who I was potentially hurting because of my actions.

Then I came out to myself. Or, really, I had a very liberating night and was forced to reevaluate my preconceptions about my sexuality (turns out, if you force yourself into the closet for 18 years, you emerge with a bang). I said out loud what I had always known, “I am bisexual,” and I found a community and a support group here that is better than any I could have imagined.

I no longer have those questions circling around in my head because I know who and what I am. Denying my attraction to women made me unhappy and incomplete; I was never able to be myself or to act on my emotions free of fear. Continuing on that path would be rejecting part of myself and cause me to be living a lie. I have come to the resolution that even if I did decide to be with only men, that would not make me any less attracted to women, and eventually I would have to face that. Yes, my sexuality may isolate me from people I love, but ultimately my life is my own, and I cannot and will not sacrifice my own mental and emotional well being in order to satisfy social norms.

Getting Over Your First _____

Ah, it's that wonderful time of year when the sun peeks out from that infinite expanse of grey, the green emerges from its thick white blanket, and couples go strolling to savor these glimpses of spring. Right...So while this may be the case for some (what can feel like MANY), I am not one of them. No, this February will mark the year anniversary for my first REAL break-up with a woman. This post isn't a painful rehashing of the details surrounding that day, but more of a reflection on what it means to say goodbye to your first.

Ok, that picture is a bit melodramatic, but hey, oftentimes so is breaking up. In my particular case, I was with my gf for a little over two years. No, she wasn't a fellow Yalie or a high school sweetheart. Actually, she was on the other side of things a.k.a the older woman. Ten years older, to be exact. Not only was there a decade between us, but almost 3,000 miles; it was the ultimate long distance relationship. For most people, long distance equals death...

But not for us. The distance actually enhanced our relationship. Seeing as we knew we only had limited amounts of time together, we were always sure to make the most of it. I would travel to L.A for the weekend, she'd come out here, and we'd plan all vacations together. It was great. We were able to maintain the excitement usually said to fade after the first few months of being together, while still developing a mature and deep connection. Since I had no real model to compare to, this arrangement seemed pretty ideal.

(Apparently this is the best image that captures my happiness).

That's not to say we didn't experience awkward moments where we realized the limitations of our relationship. For example, after one particularly low key weekend spent almost entirely in her apartment, I began to notice that some of her habits were also some of my biggest pet peeves. They were little things, like biting her nails and constantly talking throughout movies that drove me crazy. And even though you're thinking, well, it's not like you had to deal with it that long, these discoveries always affirmed the undeniable: we really didn't know each other as well as we thought.

Despite knowing this, I did fall for her...or at least it felt like I did. It was only until a little over a year ago that the real problems arose. Long distance relationships pose all types of challenges- the constant missing one another, the inability to share special events together, or, maybe the worst, the possibility of meeting other people in your separate locations. Mmm hmm... that last one can get you when you least expect it.

Sure, when we first started dating we agreed to keep our relationship open, enabling us to explore without feeling so restricted. I hooked up with a few girls during this period, but eventually I realized I only wanted to be with her. We decided to move into the exclusive territory and, although there were potential interests along the way, we stayed committed. Then, as all long distance haters would have predicted, the inevitable happened: she met someone. Before I dive into the shit storm that followed, let me give you a bit more background on the gf. She's a surgical resident in L.A, in her 30s, and had previously never been with a woman until me. And from the title of this post you know she was my first too. We were able to experiment and make mistakes with total abandon. We were discovering what it meant to be lovers, friends, and gay women together.

And then it all came crashing down. I went to visit for Thanksgiving and realized, despite having closed the 3000 mile distance between us, she still felt extremely far away. This feeling only intensified throughout the trip, and even when having sex for the last time, it was all too aggressive and detached. The warmth and intimacy had vanished; I had lost her without even knowing it. That was the last time I saw her. I soon found out that there was another, someone we had actually talked about before (speculating on whether or not she was gay). Well, turns out she definitely was.

Some more drama has passed since then, but for the most part we no longer talk, and the memory of the relationship has grown dimmer. However, the process hasn't been easy. They always say that getting over your first is the worst as it's the only love you've ever known and the only one you think you'll ever have. True, but it's difficult for so many other reasons. Your first is usually the first person you bare all of yourself to. You pour out all of your fears, vulnerabilities, and dreams. You share everything you are because you want to reach the highest degree of closeness...in all respects. Once you've reached that closeness and suddenly had it stolen away, what follows is the unavoidable heartache.

(me after break up)

No, but after the end, everything does seem unbearable for awhile. Reminders of her spring up where you never knew they existed, e.g., the way you now butter your toast, or stop to watch the frolicking squirrels (an animal you previously viewed as an oversized fluffy cockroach). These aftereffects linger, reaffirming your newly unwanted aloneness...but also the fact you had such an impactful relationship.

(Details I could be missing)

What I've discovered in the course of this year is that while having your first love leave you hurts (and hurts and hurts), the experience, like any other, allows you to learn and grow. Ok, gag, I know how cliché-ish that sounds, but hear me out. As much pain that comes with a break up, you also have to figure out a way to get over that pain, and embrace the woman you are without that person. In my case, I finally decided to focus on what I had learned about myself in the relationship, and how that applied to my life in general. By examining how I changed and what good came out of the situation, I've been able to more fully accept the loss and rededicate my life to me. While break ups can motivate those to a point of self-empowerment, i.e., getting in great shape or starting a new creative project, this only typically comes after a long mourning period. I didn't want to be one of those that was depressed for soooo long that I had to do something positive to free myself from it. In that respect, I think allowing myself to feel whatever I was feeling and finding the positives in the relationship beforehand, really gave me the chance to come into my own much sooner than what could have been. It's not always easy and clearly it's something I still think about (otherwise I wouldn't be writing this post), but I think our firsts provide us with some of the greater lessons to guide us in the perilous world of love later on. We gain some maturity and endurance, and hopefully a bit more sense...when it comes to long distance. Or...

Uma Thurman" style="max-width: 660px; ">

We start kicking asses and taking names.

If any of you have thoughts/stories to share on your firsts, please comment!

Bring on the next,

A

Going through phases

I figured coming out to my mom as a bisexual wouldn't be a huge deal. I trust her a lot, and I know her to be a progressive woman; she's generally liberal, pro-choice, pro-gay marriage, she even played on a women's flag football team for twenty years where the vast majority of the members, her friends, were lesbians.

So I came out to her over Thanksgiving. The reaction was, while not the opposite of what I expected, still pretty surprising. It turns out my mom doesn't believe bisexuality exists. Its not that she is anti-bi, she just believes its a “phase” and that I'll “have to pick sides eventually.” She wasn't angry, and didn't treat me differently after I told her, but it was as though I had mentioned that I was having trouble deciding on a major; my bisexuality was something to work through, figure out, and decide.

The most frustrating part of the experience is how often I get similar reactions from people to the concept of bisexuality. Look, people: being bi isn't a stage in life that I'm going through. When I finally settle down with a guy or a girl, I won't suddenly be straight or lesbian. I'll have decided upon a person, not a gender. To me, that's why being bi is: having the ability to fall for people, regardless of their sex. Lyrics always say it best: “I just don't care whats under there.”

Sexy Fun Time

What can I update you on? Hmm.

I had my first threesome last week. (INDEPENDENCE, bitches). It was…interesting. Okay well it was a little awkward in the beginning. Okay, so it was sort of planned. I’ll back up.

Girl-I-like slept with this toppy Williams graduate a couple weeks ago but thought they were both a little too toppy for each other. However girl-I-like drunkenly said “Hey, girl-I’m-seeing (ME!) thinks you’re hot. You’re totally her type. We should hang out.”

We should hang out. Really?! Smooooth, Girl-I-Like.

However, it worked. Williams grad (WG) goes, “Hmm. I’m down. I’ve never been the odd man out. That’d be hot.”

Fast forward one week. Text from WG to Girl-I-Like.

WG: Wanna hang tonight

GIL: Well, girl-I’m-seeing will be here tonight. Wanna come over

WG: Am I interfering?

GIL: No. Not at all.

(I hope you read that last text as sketchily as possible).

WG: I’ll stop by around 9, then?

GIL: Perfect. We can play videogames and drink beer.

Make the situation non-awkward.

WG: K should I bring anything?

But come on, it IS awkward. At this point I steal the phone. Mind you, I have not met WG.

GIL (but really me): Naw, don’t worry about it. I have the video camera, and the girl-I’m-seeing has some rope

I could not stop laughing. Luckily WG laughed (via text) and offered to bring handcuffs.

Fast forward 6 hours. Girl-I-like and I are freaking out about the fucking lights in the apartment. I grabbed a beer to calm my fears of this going horribly wrong. What if she is really socially incompetent and can’t handle this? How is it going to start? Will it actually happen? If it does….what if I really don’t like watching Girl-I-Like and WG hook up? What if…I really like hooking up with WG….

I grab a beer while cleaning up the apartment.

“THIS IS SO AWKWARD.”

“Keep the lights off. It’s scary bright.”

“But it looks like we are mood-setting with just the little Christmas lights on. We said come over for VIDEOGAMES.”

“But we need to see the screen better, we need the lights off!”

“IT LOOKS LIKE WE ARE MOOD-SETTING. She’s going to walk in and be like…what the fuck.”

“Fine. Get me a beer.”

An hour later.

She walks in. Yeah, she’s hot. Kind of andro. Butchy, but wears eyeliner. Dimples. She’s a biker…so her body is…ahem…you know, alright. (I try not to squirm obviously on the couch with excitement in front of Girl-I-Like and who I want to continue liking me. BUT SHE’S GORGEOUS. )

We play videogames for an hour. AN HOUR. Apparently some lesbians are really into X-box.





I am not one of these lesbians.

We continue drinking. Somehow and some point we even watch “Hitler in the Springtime” clips on YouTube. Girl-I-Like is Jewish (so it’s ok she put it on) and found it hilarious. Hitler prancing flamboyantly and very homosexually around on stage was much less funny when WG said her grandfather is a holocaust survivor.

Cue crickets.

Pour more whiskey.

Lots of laughter and shifting (oh so accidentally) to where I am closer to WG with each casual laugh on the couch. WG puts hand on my shoulder. Plays with my hair. WG kisses girl-I-like. Girl-I-like kisses me. WG kisses me. It was actually going to happen.

Enter bedroom.

Fast forward 8 hours.

Next morning:

This note was put on the apartment door the next morning. (If you needed something to prompt your imagination about how the night went).

Things to discuss about threesomes at a later point.

1) How to avoid the cuddle slumber-party post sex. Three spoons is cool but not when I wanted to only cuddle with Girl-I-like.

2) How to control jealousy when hearing girl-I-like’s moans causally related to third-party’s touch. I may or may not have moved a hand so that I could be the one to…ahem. That is my job.

Be Chary with Your Charity

Reading the Friendly Atheist blog, I found Hermant Mehta's endorsement of the Human Rights Campaign's Valentine's Day fundraiser.  Here's HRC's pitch:

Instead of wasting that money on one day’s worth of superficial gestures, we are pledging to donate the amount we would have spent to achieving lasting equality for everyone.

We are choosing to donate to the Human Rights Campaign. From their website: “HRC seeks to improve the lives of LGBT Americans by advocating for equal rights and benefits in the workplace, ensuring families are treated equally under the law and increasing public support among all Americans through innovative advocacy, education and outreach programs.”

Sounds good? It gets better!

"For $35, your special someone will receive a cuddly, Rainbow Equality Bear."

I'm going to assume those bears are bought cheaper wholesale, but that's still a non-negligible portion of my donation that's being spent not on activism and advocacy, but on the chintzy, superficial gestures I was trying to avoid.  And that's on top of any normal overhead costs.

A lot of charities and advocacy groups get slammed for the small proportion of donations that go to support the cause.  According to leaked internal documents, HRC spent only five percent of its budget on lobbying efforts, and, in the eyes of gay Atlantic blogger Andrew Sullivan, that lobbying left a lot to be desired.

Supporting the movement is great, but it's important to make sure the money you give goes as far as possible. We have to do due diligence on the priorities and practices of the advocacy groups we support.  HRC gets a lot of coverage, but their 'activism' tends towards merchandising and parties for Democrats who aren't really scared they're going to lose the gay vote any time soon.  If you want your money to do good, give it to state campaigns for referenda get out the vote in the style of Maine's No on Prop 1 or help fund the groups funding gay rights lawsuits (and don't forget that that includes the ACLU!)

So next time you reach for your wallet. skip HRC and donate to Lambda Legal.

An Unconventional Valentine's Day Celebration

Happy Belated Valentine’s day! Despite the many relationships I’ve been through, I’ve always managed to be single on February 14th. This year was sure to be a huge disappointment, as the New Year started with an epic(ally bad) end to my new relationship.

But, surprise surpise, it wasn’t. In fact, Valentine’s day weekend was probably the best weekend of the entire school year. It was also the first weekend I ever had sex with a girl.

I’m a queer girl who loves making out with girls, sometimes goes on dates with girls, and occasionally falls for them, but gets exceedingly nervous about doing anything beyond that. I'm far more experienced with guys, and at this point men are simple and easy to please, while girls have always seemed more complicated. That perception changed this weekend, rather unexpectedly, when I had a threesome.

Okay, yeah, I understand that threesomes aren’t exactly the usual way to have sex with a girl for the first time (or to have sex, period). But from what I can tell you, they’re a damn good form of initiation. Being with two people (another girl and a guy) who I felt comfortable with, being able to see what turned her on, knowing what she did and he did that turned me on, everything was a learning experience. Going into it already being self-assured about my heterosexuality gave me a self-confidence with my homosexuality that I'd never felt before. And now that I have finally had lesbian sex, well, wow. My rating on the Kinsey scale has definitely slipped up a notch.

Valentines Day, and Rainbow Roses

So sometime at 1 am yesterday as I struggled icing cookies, my best friend pointed out that I have the romantic abilities of a 15 year old guy. Not only was I (19 year old college sophomore, waaaay to old for this kind of thing..) baking heart shaped cookies for my girlfriend, I was obsessing over getting the icing exactly perfect and arranging the plate just right.

I think because I (like many queer girls) started dating a lot later than most straight girls, many college bi/gay girls are just learning how to navigate dating and relationships. We never had the middle school “practice” dating, and come to college wondering how we are supposed to flirt with, ask out or even date other girls. And that makes Valentines day that much more stressful.

That being said, whats not to love about a holiday that is all about chocolate and candy and love? Also, flowers! Like these- which are totally amazing and I wish they existed outside of photoshop:

Thats all,

Happy Valentines day!

Celebrating All the Different Possibilities of Love

and buffering against any looming loneliness...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DAdxyE-PmYg

Let's live vicariously :)

Happy V Day!

A case for love

I love Valentine's Day. I'm probably one of five single people in the world who feels this way, but it's true nonetheless.

For me, Valentine's Day has never been about romantics. Every year, I'm taken back to elementary school days when we all had little paper bags and everyone had themed valentines to hand out to their friends. It was a time to celebrate innocence, a day in which we all told our friends, parents and siblings that we loved them. We weren't concerned with being single or not having a date; love was love.

I still hand out those little themed cards (this year: Batman and other DC comic heroes). Yes, I'm technically a grown up now and by worldly standards should have probably given that up, but, quite frankly, I don't see why. Whether we have significant others or not, we can still celebrate the love we have for the people in our lives- be it our roommates, parents, or that random kid in bio lab on whom you've been crushing. February 14th is one day out of the year that we can all take time to say, "I love you" and not have people look at us weirdly (ok, maybe if you do a very public confession to bio lab kid. Maybe rethink that one).

If we're single and happy, playing the field, in the midst of a budding romance, or married 59 years, love should and does surround us. Love is, and will forever remain, love.

So celebrate it.

Visibility on VDay

Well hey errbody. So we all know what today is, and, love it or hate it, Valentine's Day is hard to ignore. But even more than the romance/angst/lust/despair that VDay brings to our hetero brethren/sistren, we queer folks have to deal with some extra issues.

• If you're closeted, all the focus on romance around this time can lead to some awkward questions/comments ("So when are you getting a boyfriend?" etc etc).
• If you're out, the ridiculous amount of heterosexuality all over the place can be suffocating.
• If you're out and are with someone of the same sex, then being super lovey-dovey with that lucky individual carries more risks than it might for straight couples.
• If you're bi and with someone of the opposite sex, being super lovey-dovey with that lucky individual can feel like buying into straight privelege.
• If you're involved in a poly relationship...well that deserves a whole post of its own.

So how do you lovely queermos deal with VDay? Whether single, attached, or "It's Complicated" on Facebook, February 14th opens up a different can of worms for all of us. Share your survival strategies in the comments!

Valentine's Day Blues

Generally, I have a policy to indiscriminately hate Valentine's Day.

I don't like bad chocolates, I don't like fuzzy teddy bears with high-pitched voices warbling cutesy messages every time you press their paws, and I absolutely detest those chalky little candy hearts. I mean, come on. Valentine's Day is just a day for cheesy slogans and bad puns. "BEE MINE" with a little bumblebee? Aren't we past that yet?

Valentine's Day fills me with ire and resentment about being single, year after year, and watching my friends get gooey about each other and exchange flowers and candy with increasing enthusiasm. No matter how many Anti-Valentine's parties I attend, I always end up feeling depressingly lonely.

This year, all that negativity got me thinking.

Valentine's Day, from the outside, can be seen as a consumerist excuse to sell chocolate and cheap trinkets to couples who can't keep their eyes, hands, or apparently wallets off of each other. Even from the inside of love, perhaps Hallmark cards are cheesy excuses for emotion, and those candy hearts still taste like ground-up sidewalk chalk.

But everything in our culture is consumerist. Even originally "religious" holidays like Christmas, the mother of all consumer holidays, are represented in the media as excuses to buy happiness at strip malls and in online catalogs. Does this take all meaning away from Christmas for those who celebrate it? Clearly not.

I realized this: Valentine's Day is a pretty great idea at its heart. It's a time of year when people who are in relationships, queer or straight, can remind themselves - whether through a handmade valentine or through a box of store-bought candy - of why they're a couple in the first place. It's a time of year when those of us who are single aren't in the foreground, and when staying in and watching a movie with your significant other isn't considered antisocial.

What's wrong with Valentine's Day? Sure, it makes me feel like crap once a year. But it makes my couple friends feel great. Maybe, just sometimes, love should be the main event, even if it is a little consumerist.

Vibrators Don't Buy You Roses for Valentine's Day

But hot damn, they are good.

And what better day to focus on the little purple sparkly things than Valentine’s? Vibrators are wonderful, cool friends who I am sure many of you lady queers have met before (although there are probs some babygay novices out there, too, Google=mass of info babygays).

Anyway, ladies, this is my question: Whether tied down, polyamorous, ridin’ solo (and gahh, this day tries to divide us into those categories – FIGHT IT QUEERS, WE HATE LABELS) …

How do you “love yourself”?

What’s your favorite music to blast in the background, covering that bzzz noise? Do you bring out your friend multiple times a day, once a month? Where’s the craziest place you’ve ever masturbated?

Have a Happy Valentine’s Day, all! And if your answers to my previous questions are lame, what day is better to change them? ;) I hope that you go out and find love queers, whether with that beautiful significant other or your similarly beautiful self!

Happy Valentine's Day from Sappho!

Happy Valentine's Day everyone! I hope you're having a great day filled with love of all kinds!

Personally, I just love to watch all the cute things that happen around campus. For example, I found it absolutely adorable when I saw a good friend standing outside my class this morning with a rose behind his back, looking extremely nervous, just waiting for a particularly charming boy of interest to come out... no pun intended. It was really the cutest thing I've seen in a while!

Want to tell your VDay stories? Want to rant about how commercialized and consumerist today is? Want to send a shout-out to someone? Write on the Sappho Blog for this special day only (or sign up for a regular commitment to write)! Email sappho.blog@gmail.com to get set up as an author! Posts can be completely anonymous... or not.

For a special Valentine's Day e-card, to you from Sappho, go here: http://www.rattlebox.com/pickup/1538828/rb0af28b5259b.html

Wish GoodCrush was what it used to be? Wish it were more queer?

If so, you're in luck!  Sappho has just created "Sappho BetterCrush" like goodcrush... only better.

Check it out and start anonymously posting your creeper-ness for everyone to see!

http://www.a-free-guestbook.com/gb/sapphobettercrush/

Coming (out) at Yale

Yale has blown my mind. I never imagined there could be not only such a gay place, but such a gay-friendly place. I've had my fair share of less-than-fortunate experiences with homophobia, and I must say, coming to Yale was so much more than merely a refreshing change of pace, it was exactly what I needed.

I continue to find myself in complete and utter awe by what a non-issue my sexuality is with my roommate and with my suite mates and with my friends, by the way (a good portion of) people are genuinely concerned about the marginalizing effects of heteronormativity (and why that matters), and by the way it is just okay to be myself. I've never felt as safe and comfortable as I do here at Yale, and the sad part is, I know once I leave, it will most likely never be this way again. I've had the wonderful privilege to be able to truly find myself here, and as I settle in on my identity, I couldn't be happier with who I am.

So thank you Yale, and all you Yalies, for allowing me to find, and to be, who I am.

How to Flirt with Women

I knew I was bi long before I got to college, but I vehemently denied it until, say, three weeks into freshman year. I don’t know why the prospect of being queer scared me so much: my aunt has been in relationships with women for as long as I can remember, and my parents told me from a very early age that they didn’t care who I loved as long as they loved me back. I honestly have no idea what it was. But I’m not here to psychoanalyze myself. I’m here to talk about a less-expected consequence of my late-blooming bisexuality: my complete and utter ignorance of how to flirt with women.

I know how to flirt with men. I’ve been taught how, subconsciously and consciously, ever since I was a little kid and first read the titles on the cover of Cosmo. I know how to play hard to get, how to make eye contact, and how to drop those subtle hints. BUT OH MY HEAVENS do I clam up when there are sexy women around. Maybe it’s a result of denying my own attractions for so long, but attractive women make me so much more nervous than men! I get clumsy, I get giggly… I honestly think I just missed my pre-teen awkward phase with women, and now I’m entirely entrenched. I can’t stop playing with my hair, and I think I even batted my eyelashes once or twice. Pathetic.

I don’t know how to attract a woman’s attention. Admittedly, I present on the femme side of bi, and I suppose my interest in women is hard to pick up from a once-over. But I just want to know: how do I let women know that I like them too? I want to take advantage of being at Yale. I know so many wonderful queer women here, and the LGBT Co-Op parties are undeniably the most fun on campus. But I don’t know how to kick the quivering, nervous queer girl out of my chest and replace her with a woman who won’t trip over her own feet when a pretty girl looks her way.

Is that REALLY so much to ask?! Come on, ladies, notice me. I’m right here. You’ll recognize me as the awkward one giggling in the corner and staring at all the lovely faces in the crowd.

Interested in writing for Sappho?

Hello beautiful ladies of Yale!  We need you to post about your life, your thoughts, your rants, whatever you'd like.  The blog as been a huge hit in the past and Claire and I would like to get it going again.  This means, WE NEED WRITERS!! If you're interested in writing, please sappho.blog@gmail.com.  Posting commitments will either be weekly or bi-weekly (whichever you prefer) on a set day of the week that you sign up for.  Let's get the amazing queer-ness going again!