Femme FATale


body deliberate.
August 19, 2008, 1:28 pm
Filed under: butches, chicago, crush, dynamic, femme, femme conference, lust, swooning | Tags: , , , , , , ,

“are you two going to kiss?” the man who stumbled before us asked. he was drunk and wobbling on his two long legs in a way that suggested too much alcohol had mixed with a heart too weighted to keep balanced, to keep the body stable.

but i barely noticed.

because when you started to walk across the sidewalk to me, before he showed up swaying and destroying lazy-to-arrive-but-so-glad-you-finally-fucking-got-here moments like this, my vision tunneled to you. a body deliberate. calculated, intent on reaching, on doing, you sidled up to me mumbling some words about how it had been some twenty minutes since we’d talked and hadn’t that been too long? i searched for a response from a brain too tired of producing witty banter for you all day. see, those past 24 hours, saw me in a contest with myself, racing to see how fast i could make those crevices in the skin around your mouth deepen and turn darker as your smile stretched further every time. found me delivering package after package to you of smartly wrapped snark and flirt all wound tightly and made ornate with knotted heart strings for bows.

so i just smiled. and for once in the whole day, despite the frenetic swirl of drunk, happy queers tapdancing on cigarette butts outside the barroom door, allowed a bit of quiet between us. maybe my body sensed what was about to happen, knew that if it didn’t curb the firing of my brain’s synapses, i’d make some joke and we’d erupt again in a series of guffaws that of course felt good, but that didn’t end with the mingling of each other’s sweat on our upper lips.

when your hand found the bend in my waist that gives way to my hips that roll strong but pliant when you pull them just right, i knew silence had been the right choice. knew it twice as hard when, in seconds, there i was three inches from your face staring into eyes that wouldn’t release my own unless to quickly survey the state of my mouth which was, on this night, stained scarlet and heavy with the anticipation of you.

did you feel the drop when we fell into the vacuum of each other? when things around us slowed almost to the point of nonexistent as we considered the idea of halving and then obliterating all together the slowly shrinking space between us?

i remember i was thinking about your glasses and about the angle at which i’d bend my neck to avoid any sort of minor calamity of frames smashed into browbones or lenses fogged to the point of visual impairity when his voice, loud and sluggish with booze, slammed our feet back down on the concrete. i swear now that there were tiny spider-like cracks around our shoes from the impact of so brutally being forced to once again find the ground.

“are you two going to kiss?” he slurred with whiskey breath.

but we barely noticed. we didn’t even speak. not even to each other.

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open letters to my crushes.
March 21, 2008, 7:10 pm
Filed under: butches, crush, dating, genderqueer, swooning, trans guys | Tags: , , , , ,

crush #1:

dear e,

you weren’t the response i expected when i posted that craig’s list ad about stupid lesbians hating on butches, genderqueers, and tranny boys in the w4w section. you are sweet, funny and seem to have good politics. judging from that one phone conversation we’ve had and the slew of text messages we’ve exchanged, you seem like just the kind of guy i’d like to meet. your response to my being frantically upfront, due to the nature of our meeting, about being fat was pricelessly endearing – “it ain’t no thang.” thanks. i think you’re a “severe hottie” too.

i’m excited that i get to have drinks with you on sunday. i hope your snowy travels between mpls and wisc. are, in the meantime, safe.

xo,
hussy red


crush #2:

dear j,

i was swoony over you the first time i met you, but after your attendance at the femme mafia meeting where you claimed a “femme ally” position and sat back and listened, consciously making femme space and questioning what you could do to be supportive, i melted into puddles.

i know you’re already seeing someone not so seriously, i know you already casually asked out my best friend (good taste, but ouch!), and i know you’re poly and all that noise, but if you might consider kicking it with me for one minute, i’d mend that broken heart of yours like florence nightingale on speed, son.

just sayin’.

yours,
hussy red

p.s. stop sending me so many text messages. i read too much into them because i like you so much. the end.


crush #3:

dear e (which is actually your name),

i saw you at the bar after pride in june 2007 when you sold me a beer and then didn’t see you again until a few weeks ago. this time, you seemed to notice me…at least a raised eyebrow, big smile, and a “hey there” would suggest such. i tried getting up the nerve to talk to you, but every time i approached, you were surrounded by friends. you are handsome as all get out. i get all hot thinking of being domestic and cooking you eggs and bacon on sunday mornings.

they say you’re single. they say you don’t approach women. they say you like femmes. i say i’ma talk to them and see about you.

xo,
hussy red