How to Get Laid By a Girl in High Heels
Being a certain kind of girl (no not that kind), I realize that I’m treated like a wandering and confused straight girl at even the gayest of events. A gaggle of butches try to help me: “Ma’am, are you lost? Do you know where your fag is?”
The only recourse is to throw the cutest one up against the wall and show them how it’s done. Of course, by “it” I mean a Taekwondo takedown. I show them where their kata is. What did you think I meant? We already covered that I’m not that kind of girl. Keep up.
See my issue, Lover Pants, isn’t the term “femme invisibility.” It’s the fact that we queers have a visual “Is she or isn’t she?” inspection that rivals the U.S Army. Without the haircut, no one knows you’re a soldier. And Sweetcheeks, I tried the haircut. I looked like a quasi-butch reject from Miami Vice. I just couldn’t stay away from pastels. Don’t judge me.
What we need, my little tattletale, is a kick in the gaydar. Just because I wear a dress and more make-up than Hedda Lettuce doesn’t mean I can’t throw you around and make you call me Daddy. I have references. The question becomes: “Is she looking you up and down because she likes your shoes, or is she checking your credit to make sure you can afford her goods?”
Now, my dykeness, the inclination is to assume if she’s in a gay bar or at a gay event then she’s probably, at the least, looking to expand her horizons – or at the best, she’s about to expand yours. I’ve had many people say that they don’t want to approach the devastatingly beautiful siren (DBS) in the corner because they don’t want to offend. Well, it’s better to ask forgiveness than permission, I always say. Plus, your DBS probably spent an hour to look like that and her feet are killing her. If you don’t approach her, she’s going to try the haircut. You don’t want that kind of guilt on your conscious.
But you say, “I don’t go to gay bars, Momma, I’m a Buddhist monk.” Well, even if you are trying to let your DBS know that she’s the love of your life at an AA meeting, or a bookstore, if you’re into that sort of thing; there are certain clues you can look for to reduce the chances of a restraining order.
We queers are like snowflakes, no two are exactly alike. Well, unless they are on the same softball team, but let’s not muddy the waters. But just as all snowflakes are white when they fall, there are things that we do carry in common. The ability to mate for life on the second date, you say? Well yes, that is a commonality. Now stop interrupting Twinkletoes.
When looking for your very own DBS, I suggest you begin at the skin. No don’t touch her without permission, although I do admire your go-get-her attitude. Does she have any tell-tale signs; a rainbow flag pin, a pink triangle patch, a tattoo that says “I (heart) sex with femaled bodied people, and sometimes male bodied people if they identify as female’? That last one was a little long perhaps, but you get the point.
For example, Yours Truly has two women signs joined on her upper arm to let people know what team I’m batting for. Who could have foreseen in the early 90’s that my sex life was going to get so convoluted that my pickup line was to become “What pronoun do you prefer, Kumquat?” Now, I just keep it as a Queer Warning Signal. Thank God I didn’t get something horrifying, like a labrys or an homage to Melissa Etheridge.
If she’s missing the oh-so-subtle clues that a carving of Sappho on her forehead would provide, you could do something revolutionary by not assuming and simply talk to her. Even if she’s as straight as Donna Reed (although the validity of that theory is contested), she may appreciate the company. If she drops no hint as to her libidinous tendencies, take the plunge and ask. If she’s offended, then good. She needs the gay in her life. You may make her think, and there could be a toaster oven in it for you. Who doesn’t like door prizes?
So, my little perishable, please take a chance that the girl in the high-heels and eyeliner is queer. Even at the grocery store. She’s not only being friendly, she’s checking out your produce.
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“We queers are like snowflakes..”
“Do you know where your fag is…”
Too many perfect lines. Too effin’ funny.
Wish I had your gaydar, and just a little bit of your self confidence.
Belinda: I love it!!!!!!! Yes, great line:
There are certain clues you can look for to reduce the chances of a restraining order.
I looked like a quasi-butch reject from Miami Vice.
AND
You could do something revolutionary by not assuming and simply talk to her.
Awesome humor that works so well b/c of the message. Nicely done!
Wow, that’s a great and fun read! Well done! Thanks!
Thanks Y’all!
Peg- Sometimes all it takes to be self confident is to realize: No one else knows what the F**k they’re doing either.
jamie- I’m glad you got the message
Annette- I love fun! Thanks!
Heckuva attitude you have goin’ there, Belinda! Superb.
You nailed the issues!!! As a femme who came out in my 30s, attracting women was difficult: I just didn’t scream “Queer.” I actually attracted more butches when I identified straight: they were all going for those toasters.
Hey ! I just looooooove this post ! You’re completely right !!
I really enjoyed reading this. Spunky as hell. I just left a comment elsewhere on this site in which I speak ill of strict gender roles in lesbian couples, and by and large I don’t care for the role-playing because I think it makes it harder to foster relationships in which power is shared equally. I wonder what you think about that hypothesis? Or perhaps you don’t want equal power and control? This is not a criticism at all. I find this subject fascinating.
This was fan-flippin-tastic!
Leslie,
I can understand where you are coming from as butch-femme, or any permutation thereof, is seen as aping heterosexuality in parts of our (and by ‘our’ I mean, GLBT) communities. By your comment that “I don’t care much for role-playing as I think it makes it harder to foster relationships in which power is shared equally”, I assume that you think that my being femme and dating butches is ‘role-playing’. However, can assure you that the power dynamics of MY relationships (as I cannot speak for all) are equal. I also assure you that butch-femme, or at least MY relationships are not role-playing (well, sometimes, but that’s a different blog). I have always been a feminine woman, who is attracted to masculine female bodied people. I think that some people largely assume that as a feminine appearing person that I somehow have traded power and control for high-heels and eyeliner, as if one negates the other. I have had many conversations about this over the years, as I have been out 20 years (eep!) and have been femme id’d for 17 of them (besides the 3 years that I had the ‘haircut’). I find it is hard to foster relationships and intimacy if any person in that relationship is hiding parts of themselves or trying to fit what the other person wants. For me, to present as less femme in an attempt to make other people view my relationships as equally powered would be misleading. I would imagine if we were all to sit down and have coffee, we would find that even those that dress alike have similar relationships. We are all people looking to have relationships with people, no matter how we choose to show our colors.
Belinda Carroll
Margo, Lynn, Agatha and Tara
Thanks so much for the feedback and for reading!
LOVE this! Honey, were we possibly separated at birth? Not only do I completely identify with your post, but I also heartily concur with the reply you wrote concerning butch-femme “role-playing” (insert a very large “Huh?” here). During the four months that I was single after my wife and I divorced (yes, four months…I’m not big into being alone much), I would get dressed up and go to THE gay/lesbian bar. I don’t even go to the gym without foundation and mascara at a minimum so you can imagine what I look like for a night on the town. Particularly when trying to attract a hot butch. Imagine how disconcerting it was for me to sit there alone, night after night, while my fellow dykes avoided me as though I had the Bubonic plague. One night I asked the bartender what she thought the deal was and she said I come across as “intimidating and unapproachable.” Me? Are ya kiddin’? I’m the most laid-back, easy-going high femme I know! But, it seems, therein lies the problem. I’m either stepping out to test the Sapphic waters or I’m trolling for my boyfriend who is waiting in the limo outside. Poor women never realized that I’ve probably been out longer than some of those baby dykes have been alive. And guess what? I DO have the haircut! Good thing those single days are gone.
Looking forward to your next piece, by the way!
Thanks Diana,
I am firmly convinced that all femmes are separated at birth and someday we will meet in a Femmetopia where there will be glitter and gowns for everyone and a small cadre of butches will wait on us hand and foot while remodeling our castle in the sky. A girl can dream, right?
Belinda
I’m straight and quite frankly, I don’t care who hits on me. Sure I would tell a woman checking me out I like boys, it’s still flattering.