Somebody's Husband

Yay - apparently I'm somebody's husband now! Well, at least the emcee at The Pageant's "Brew and View" night thought so!

Tonight, I went to see "Pink Flamingos" and "Hairspray" with my friend Alice (the gal I went to see BNL with last August - also someone that saw a pic of Kellie and I from Toronto, and told me, "If I didn't know any different, I'd think you two were a couple") at a local venue - The Pageant.

We'd gotten there early, and before the movies started, they were showing music videos. We were discussing the fact that Britney Spears seems to be wearing less and less in her videos - that she's apparently transitioning into porn. That spurred a conversation about having a Porno Pet. Basically, your own personal Rocky Horror (I'm temporarily obsessed with "Rocky Horror Picture Show"), someone you can have around to relieve tension - without any commitment involved. Alice was interested in having a Porno Pet around, if nothing else than to see him get an erection on demand. (Keep in mind that Alice is a "good Mormon girl" - really she is)

Then we got to discussing a variety of things - bondage, rimming, slashfic, plaster-casting boy parts ... just a couple of Mormon perverts. Yeah ... that's it. ;) It was just funny as hell, because we both keep up the image of being "good girls" but when we're around people we can trust, we let loose.



Anyways - about my being mistaken for her husband. In between "Pink Flamingos" and "Hairspray", they were having drawings for movie passes and mugs. The emcee asked if anyone in the venue was a virgin to "Pink Flamingos" - and a lot of us raised our hands. During the drawings, Alice yelled out "go deeper!" and the emcee said something about "and you said you were a virgin - that must be your husband you're sitting with!" Alice and I died laughing over that - and post-intermission, I found the emcee and told him that I may look butch, but I definitely wasn't anyone's husband. He laughed and apologized - but I can understand the confusion. It was kind of dark, I have short hair ... and with my arms crossed, it's hard to tell if I have boobs.

It was a fun night - and hopefully I can do it again with a friend. I'd go alone if nothing else - but it's more fun to travel with others.

sex, sex, sex (what else is new?)

Not everyone knows about my sexuality. My family doesn't know, co-workers don't know, people I go to church with don't know. It's probably better that way.

My family would disown me. My employer would fire me - as it's still possible to discriminate against people for their sexual orientation. My church would have me excommunicated immediately. Those are things I don't want to deal with, and thankfully, people around me understand, and don't pressure me about coming out to the world.


Church and employer you can understand severing ties with me - but family you don't understand, you say? I'll explain it:

( Here's How )

Slow Motion Sickness

I feel like I'm comitting suicide - the very slow way. I'm working myself to death. And despite Kellie's well-intended worrying, I have to cancel my doctor's appointment for tomorrow, since my department is short-staffed until Wednesday. (Yes, that means another few days of Zantac & Tums for me.)

I'm one of those people that's very Type-A, All-Or-Nothing, full-on when it comes to work, life, relationships, whatever. And it's going to be the bane of my existence if I'm not careful. My biggest problem? I don't have the heart, guts, or nerve to tell someone that I can't do something. I don't know how to say no to people. I feel like if I do say no, I'd only serve to disappoint them, and therefore destroy my personal reputation (whatever that would be) by being falliable.

Now, I'm not going to sit here and say it's someone else's fault that I'm like this. It's entirely my fault. It's how I processed whatever messages I was given from whatever sources. People around me never saw it as a bad thing, they just saw it as my being determined and wanting to be good, to be acceptable and accepted. So, I kept at it, dealing with the simultaneous drive to be damn-near perfect and this side of me that reminds me that I'm not what I may have myself deluded into thinking I am.

When it all comes down, I wouldn't die from some long, drawn-out malady or in a sudden flash of light. I would end up dying by my own hand and mind - my own perverse drives and fucked-up mindset will do it for me, if I'm not careful.


Sometimes I scare the hell out of myself, and I don't know how to tell anyone this....