Originally Posted by Bleu
Thank you, spritzerJ for including this comment in your experience as it describes my state regularly these days.
I come from a long line of low-level military enlisted and garbage men. I relate to the men in my family much more than to the women. I was taught to survive in this world by a hand-to hand combat specialist. He was a Marine who was parceled out to Navy Seals and Army Rangers and Air Force pilots. He taught people how to kill face-to-face once all other options had been depleted. My body was raised by my mother, a sporty tennis player type, however, my spirit was raised by my father.
6’2” and chiseled he was man who could not embrace his own sexuality. He was remarkably strong yet simultaneously excruciatingly weak. As I look back on growing up and examine how I got to who/where I am today, I see that my father was the one who had the most impact on my psyche thus, I absorbed many of his traits. This sponging of my father was both good and bad. Mostly bad. I have fought his effects on me and ultimately had to find my true self on my own, as we all do. Still searching, by the way.
Okay, so sometimes I do curse like a longshoreman. I have found that this trait is usually a turn-off for many a butch and some of my femme sisters too. I love butches but I feel that butches are not attracted to me. Oh yeah, they are on the surface. I’m curvy, I look nice in a dress, wear heels on occasion (the right occasions) and wear make-up, blah blah blah. I like to do these things as I feel more comfortable in my own skin when I do. But, when it comes down to my need for intellectual conversation, or someone who likes my mind for what it is, someone who just “gets” me…nope. The butches run. Every single relationship I have ever had with a butch has failed miserably. This is not easy for me to reveal here on this website half-populated with butches, some who I think are attractive and whom I look forward to meeting in September or whenever. What I find ends up happening is that I sometimes clam up around people, butches and femmes alike, as when I allow myself to be just me, I feel I am rejected. I am so sick of feeling rejected by my members of my own culture. (I use the word feeling in the previous sentence because being may not actually be accurate and I can accept, and do recognize, that I am living in a world of my own perception.)
On the topic of the outside world and those who think I am straight by the way I look. I could give a f... (there I go again.) I don’t even feel accepted by my own culture, and I am way more concerned about that than whether or not some het at the grocery store sees me for who/what I am. What I don’t like at the grocery store is when I see a butch and try to catch their eye. They turn away and purposefully do not make eye contact with me…and this is a direct result of how I look. I am a femme stuck inside a soccer mom’s body and I am invisible to the people to whom I want to most be visible. I had one butch tell me it’s because I look so straight that I am shunned by the public butch. That too many butches-at-large have succumbed to a het woman’s experimental desires and melted at their deadly charms. Then they get hurt or feel duped and so they shy away from a public femme smile. Just a warm “I see you” smile. Holy hen shit, I don’t want to jump in your pants just because I smiled at you. But that is what it feels like to me, that I am shunned because I am femme. I am so presently, in my mind, femme that I find it hard to step outside myself at every moment and see myself the way the world might be seeing me at any given time. Sheesh, it’s exhausting. So, I feel rejected every time. Wah wah, f’in wah…right? Shut up, Bleu, no one wants to hear your whiney shit…
I have lived 43 years mentally beaten about how I look. As a small girl, up to 12ish, I was androgynous. Most people thought my brother and I were brothers. Then by junior high school I was the girl who blossomed WAY too quickly, having to go with my mother to the ladies section of the department stores to purchase expensive foundation to “reign” them in. Coming out...an OMG! 27 year journey in a few sentences...I tried butch for a while as I somehow equated being a strong lesbian as presenting to the world as a “don’t f... with me” butch. Honestly, I liked how I was treated by folks in the het world as a butch, then realized I was not attracting to me the butches whom I wanted so much to like me. I slowly morphed into a femme and here I am today. I mostly like being femme. But I really just want to be liked and loved for who I am on the inside. Some friends on here have laughed with me about what percentage butch I am…2.5% is the consensus. One certain femme friend called me a futch…cute! On my profile I use the phrase, reluctant femme. I am asked about that on occasion and I have a fairly standard answer stemming around labels, but in writing this, I find I might be more accurate to just state that I acquiesce to myself.
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