Most-Est Kisses

February 14, 2013

Firstest: French party, in bed with two girls and two more boys. One of the girls kissed me, then the other. Then they kissed each other. I was the most confused 17-year-old.

Longest: Tiny Danish gay bar, pink shots, long pretty hair, leather jackets (hers and mine). Several hours non-stop.

Most anticipated: Cold winter of American North, her couch. I kissed her eyes, she bit my neck. We closed the blinds.

Most redeeming: Don’t remember: why I was pissed off. Remember: who slammed whom against which wall when, Spanish DJ playing Mr. Saxobeat, making out/smoking in the windowsill.

Image

That windowsill, oversaturated.

Most dramatic: Warm fall of American South, gay men’s bar, yelling and crying, holding hands in the morning. Beautiful/agonizing.

Most comforting: Married, friend of a friend. “Never have I ever kissed [you]”. She tucked me into bed and stroked my hair and told me everything would be okay.

The Bookshelf

October 13, 2011

Whenever I go over to a new girl’s house, there are two places that I check out.

The first one is the kitchen. Alcohol facilitates new… friendships, and the type of alcohol stored in the pantry (hard vs wine vs beer, vodka vs tequila) says a lot about the owner of the kitchen. The gay girl’s kitchen deserves its own separate entry.

The second one is the bookshelf. What you read is what you are. That doesn’t mean that a Harvard-educated woman can’t read a Cosmopolitan or that a shelf full of Nietzche implies an IQ of 180. But in my personal experience, the summary of the reading material reflects quite a bit.

Actually, I’m a bit of a book thief.

My Philosophy

I look through the books, I pick out something I haven’t seen before, look at the girl, bat my eyelashes, and say, “I’d like to read this”.

In the morning, I take the book with me in my purse. Sometimes I return them. If they ask for them back.

From The Ex’s house, I took Chuck Palahniuk’s Choke. She had certain family issues, was very thoughtful and attentive, and began her sex life early. When we were dating, she was in a strange place in her life and unsure of where she was going. She hasn’t actually read Choke.

From The Bartender’s house, I took Milan Kundera’s Slowness and Ernest Hemingway’s The Sun Also Rises, among many others. She had the best book collection of anyone I’ve met so far (to my taste). She had a nihilist philosophy on life and a jealous loser faux-philosopher sort-of-boyfriend. We understood each other without talking much. In fact, we almost never talked.

In BlondeGirl’s house, I found Vita Sackville-West’s Challenge. She has the fastest mind of anyone I know, overthinks, overplans, overcalculates, and is a master at running away from herself.

From The Architect’s house, I took John Boyne’s The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas. She’s idealistic and needs to get a girlfriend. Someone sweet, young, and supportive.

From La Azafata’s house, I took a manual by Walter Riso, Amar o Depender, on dependency issues in love. We have really good physical chemistry. She is in the process of sorting herself out, which is good. Unfortunately, it took her a move to another country to start doing so.

My latest acquisition is Eduardo Mendoza’s Sin Noticias de Gurb. Sarcastically intellectual and easy to read. We’ll see what that means, if anything.

Roles and Eye Make-Up

October 1, 2011

I think sometimes we subconsciously decide to play out a certain scenario and then fit certain people into the prescribed roles. I see that in my friends who suddenly decide they need to get married rightthisminute and get hitched to the first guy who fits the explicit requirements (for example, tall/dark/a doctor). They want to star in the show “perfect housewife”, and that’s totally fine if that’s what makes them happy.

However, playing out past scenarios can happen in the most innocuous situations, too.

Several years ago, I had just met The Ex. We were going out for Halloween with a large group of people, we were just getting to know each other, I felt a little awkward. I wasn’t sure if she was interested.

We were both standing in front of the big mirror in the bathroom. I was supposed to be a sexy zebra (don’t ask), so I was wearing a striped zebra nightie. I was screwing up the make-up, though. So she turned to me, dipped her finger in the white paint, and started outlining my eye. I closed my eyes. She traced the contours of my face. I remember exactly how I felt in that moment: vulnerable, emotional. Connected. Letting go.

Eye Shadow Lesbians

This June, it was gay pride. I went out with La Azafata, with a large group of people. We had just started getting to know each other. It was a little awkward. I wasn’t sure if she was interested. We were standing in front of a big mirror in the bathroom in a gay bar. I was trying to fix my rainbow make-up. She turned to me, dipped her finger in the blue paint, and ran her fingers from the bridge of my nose to the edge of my forehead. And I had that similar rush of feelings.

Funnily enough, she reminds me a lot of The Ex.

Pride Continues

July 3, 2011

I looooove pride! Love love love. Too bad I cannot go out tonight (school early tomorrow). Too bad pride can’t be every day. Why can’t pride be every day?

I was here!

I think I got a taste of what it must be like for straight people. You go anywhere – streets, restaurants, shops – and you can just assume everyone is gay. Every girl you see at any bar is a potential mate. Hundreds of lesbians, everywhere. Lesbian couples, lesbian families with kids, lesbian girls with their parents waving flags. So awesome! Where were we all hiding prior to pride?

Not to mention, pretty girls in my favorite bars. Who give me tickets to cool lesbian events. And hickeys 😉

And here!

Last night was very interesting.

First of all, I didn’t meet any of the three friends I was planning on meeting. Various reasons: one was sick, another one had to sort out her thoughts, and the third one I just happened to miss.

On the other hand, I got to see the start of gay pride in this city and meet plenty of new people. Wow. I will summarize my feelings on pride in the next post, but in this one I just want to cover the usual me being young and crazy stuff.

So, first of all, my gay guy friend has the best friends. They are really fun and thoughtful and cool to go out with. One of his friends is getting married soon! So happy for him. He’s been with his boyfriend for years, and clearly in love. We were just walking around the district to see what was going on, and met two random girls on a porch of their apartment smoking and drinking wine. They shared with us, and so we made new friends.

Then we ended up in Les Bar. So lipsticky! Perfect. Flirting starts at the door.

This one girl was trying to hit on me but ended up saying that her English is better than my Spanish. Pass Go, do not collect points. Instead, slept with the Architect. Got La Azafata’s number for next time.

The Slayers