Tag Archives: lesbian fashion

Hunting for Valentines: Interview with Kiyomi

 

Kiyomi is talented... and hot.

Kiyomi is talented… and hot.

 

I broke my interviewing cherry with Kiyomi McCloskey from Hunter Valentine. Now, don’t worry. I already know that I am not a journalist (surprise!), nor do I write for Rolling Stone, so I decided to just talk to Kiyomi — and, of course, ask questions that I thought people who read my blog would be interested in: things about beer, fashion, travel, dating, and being butch. If you want more of the “who’s your musical influence”-type questions, go check out Hunter Valentine’s website. Oh, and Google them, as many journalists do. Read the rest of this interview on the Huffington Post:

Hunting for Valentines: Interview with Kiyomi.

Let the Huffington Post know you like ButchOnTap

Let the Huffington Post know you like ButchOnTap

While you are there, would you please hit the “like” button next to my name at the top of the page? This is to like me as an author, rather than liking the particular article. Of course, you can do that too. ;o) Thank you!


Why I Love Butches

Recently, I asked all of you to share the reasons why you love butches. It was a really interesting list and some of you suggested that I needed to compile it and share. One note is that this was grammatically challenging. Most of these are tweets and so not full sentences, but I tried to edit as little as possible. I did make them readable outside of Twitter and Facebook, though, and even though they aren’t all complete sentences, I added periods. Also, I’ve never cursed in a post, but a few of these need the expletive, I think, so I have left them.  Well, here you go!

Oh, and if you are a baby butch, take note. It was mentioned on more than one occasion that some of you could use a few of these tips.

OUR HANDS & ARMS

  • Big, giant, strong hands to pick me up and fuck me. Number one reason.
  • Looking at her strong hands and knowing where they can take me…
  • Strong hands on the small of my back guiding me through a crowded room.
  • She runs her fingers through my hair, gently pulling my head back, and kisses my neck.
  • The contrast of her big rough hands on my smooth skin.
  • The way she holds me and the way she takes my hand in hers.
  • Butch hands, butch style, butch lips!
  • Arms strong enough to carry me to her bed, hands strong enough to pin my wrists even when I arch my back.
  • Strong hands that silently promise to always keep me safe.
  • The safety that can always be found in their big strong arms.

Butches: Femmes are loving how strong we are. Also, they notice our hands, so maybe keep them clean?

OUR FASHION

  • How amazing she looks in a 3 piece suit with a bow tie and how that bow tie comes in handy after dark.
  • How she looks in a made-to-measure three piece suit.
  • She’s not into suits, but she knows that you have a thing for them and so she wears them for you.
  • Suits and boobs!
  • A surprise trashy bra under her suit.
  • Purple dress shirts and vests.
  • Three words. Ties. Cufflinks. Vests.
  • Bow ties that I can untie…
  • French cuff dress shirts & cuff links.
  • Ties, button down shirts, blazers, belts, shoes, watches.
  • Ass kicking boots!
  • Short, well maintained hair.
  • Nothing quite as appealing as a dapper butch.

Butches: Get the picture here? There is major action to be gotten by dressing up, buttoning down, and tying that bow tie.

GENERAL

  • I like how how attentive she is when I make her breakfast.
  • When she let’s you ramble on and on about your day…and actually listens.
  • They use the word asshats to make sad femmes laugh out loud.
  • How intently she listens to me when I speak.
  • Her patience while I get ready.
  • When a straight man says, “why not date a real man?” I can say, anything you can do, she can do better!
  • They’re so smile-inducing to consider that I’d rather stay here typing why I love them, than finish getting ready &going to work this morning!
  • The softer side only shown in the safety and confidence of a loved one.
  • The dynamic that can only be shared between a butch and a femme.
  • Attentive, appreciative and creative..
  • The way she embraces the butch-femme dance in a way that respects us both.
  • The way butches interact with children when they think no one is watching: let go, act silly and carefree! *swoon*
  • Strong facial features with a hint of softness.

Butches: Listen, be patient, and let those lovely femmes see your softer side. Apparently, they like it. What a relief! It’s hard to be tough all the time.

PUPPIES (Yes, really.)

  • They get puppies for their little girls..
  • They give a puppy-less femme a late nite puppy fix.
  • She selflessly offers to share adorable puppy to serve as mascot.

Butches: If you can pull it off responsibly, there are points to be scored here.

SWAGGER

  • Confidence, because she’s out every moment & has to deal with things I never will.
  • Her unapologetic presence and self confidence.
  • Outward self confidence and undeniable presence.

I have to say that first one almost makes me cry. It’s true, and it’s exhausting. So nice to be appreciated for it.

CHIVALRY

  • Having a butch find out no one has ever bought you flowers before & them being more pissed off than you.
  • She is gallant enough to allow an inattentive femme to save face.
  • Old-school butch style, old-school butch manners.
  • The way she makes me feel like the only woman in the world worth noticing.
  • The silent possessiveness of her presence when we’re on a date.
  • Gentlebutch manners. Attentive. Femmes first.
  • How she opens the door for me, closes my car door, all those little things.
  • How she guides me with a hand on the small of my back as we walk.
  • I love butch gentlemanly attention, tenderness, tough demeanor, lovely manners to start…
  • The effort she makes to ensure I don’t get wet from puddles and the way she walks.
  • Chivalry in the most genuine and loving display.
  • The way she bravely kills the spiders while pretending they don’t terrify her.

I am so glad the femmes notice! Young butches: Open the doors for your femme – unless she tells you not to.

SEXY

  • Making her growl.
  • How your special butch knows just how to please you.
  • Knowing that submission is strength, not weakness.
  • How they blush when teased playfully by a femme.
  • Walking out in heels, corset, suspenders, stockings with red lips and her being left speechless.
  • Because they know how to put the biggest grin on your face, right before bed. *swoon*
  • The way she undresses me with her eyes.
  • Unexpected romantic streaks.
  • Her absolute need for me there and then…
  • How I can make her distracted by being girly & flirty.
  • Role playing :o)
  • When she pretends like we have never met and find that connection all over again every time.
  • How they always give a femme what she wants and needs.
  • They are super attentive and giving.
  • How I can get her cool facade to slip by being provocative. 
  • The way she makes me melt with a demanding kiss. 
  • The way she treats me with respect & charm, until we’re in the bedroom.
  • The look on their face when they realizing I’m packing under my skirt.
  • The way she bends down to gently remove my stilettos before giving me a massage. 
  • The way they please their lover!

Butches: Well done! We are sexy beasts! Keep up the good work, and the growling.

POWER

  • Big and strong to pin me down while she fucks me. 
  • When she ties me up with her bow tie.
  • The look on her face when she says “I may hurt you, but I’ll never harm you.” 
  • Obedience… *fanning myself* and the look in her eyes when she does submit.

Gulp. No comment.

SMELL

  • Butches are so intoxicating.
  • The way she reacts to my perfume.
  • The way their skin smells, even without cologne or body spray.

Butches: This doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t shower. Keep it fresh.

And, my favorite comment was from JaJaButton: “Someone bring me ButchOnTap. Please? Yum. Butch is best.” Thanks JaJa! You made me blush.

Coming soon, the same inventory for Why I love Femmes. Given this list, it is obvious the femmes and sometimes butches love us for all that makes us butch. So, I guess that means that it’s Butch to Be Butch. Be Butch.


12 Steps to Being Butch, from the Huffington Post

12 Steps to Being Butch

Butch’s note: This blog post is meant to be tongue-in-cheek. Suffice it to say that I want to make you laugh. I do not mean to pass judgment on whoever you are, whatever your style may be (except for you over there in the ratty T-shirt and cargo shorts) or however you live your life. Now, that said, let me tell you how to be butch.

I know that you may be so delighted, so intrigued with my life experiences that you want to know how you, too, can be butch. You’re thinking, “You must have the secrets — and stat! If only there were an instruction manual.” Wait just a tick! I have found such a manual — which I have written! Read on for a step-by-step guide to being a proper butch.

1. Clothing

Go to your closet. Find every piece of women’s clothing. Throw it out. Well, OK, donate it, but it has got to go. You can’t look butch in a blouse, for chrissake. Shoes, too. Straps are out. Heels are OK if stacked or on a cowboy boot; otherwise, not so much. OK, jeans are good, always. Buy some vests; that will get you started. There are lots of more advanced rules, but I could write blog posts and blog posts about lesbian fashion alone. (Actually, I already have: See “Tipping the Velvet,” “Out of Pocket” and “Tie One On.” And there will be more. Fashion is fun to write about.)

Please go read the next 11 steps at the Huffington Post Gay Voices Blog. Don’t forget to like it, share it, and comment if you are so moved. Thank you for your support of me over there. Every time a fan likes and shares a piece at the HuffPo, an angel gets her wings – or, rather, a butch gets her magical bow tie. Of course, please feel free to comment here, too!


A Spotless Bowtie

Can you spot the bow tie?

Can you spot the bow tie?

When I was in Tokyo last month I had the privilege of visiting one of our factories. This is where my company makes some ridiculously sophisticated stuff. I mean, seriously. I could not possibly explain it. So, I was delighted to fly to a distant island in Japan and zip on into a special place where no lawyer has been able to go before. One small step for Butch Jaxon, One giant step for Butches everywhere.

This is one of those places where you cannot leave dirt, hair, sweat, or DNA. I had to wear a special suit to visit this “clean room” environment. This means that two women helped me into a hair net (which is bad for the hawk), face mask, special suit (with double cuffs at the arms and ankles), a ski mask like hood, and special booties. Oh so sexy. After getting into my E.T. or Monsters Inc. like outfit, I walked down a corridor filled with air hoses to blow off any remaining filth and into an air-locked chamber before entering the clean room. Wow. What a neat experience.

After the visit (I could tell you what I saw and learned but I’d have to kill you), as the same women were helping us out of our special sterile gear, our guide offered to take our picture. I knew I had to do it. I donned the gear again, and of course, added my special touch. Can you see it?

It’s butch to accessorize, even in the toughest environments, and with the ugliest outfits imaginable. Be Butch.


Three Lesbians Walk Into a Strip Club

Vegas' OG strip club

Vegas’ OG strip club

So, in my last post I left off with the statement, “Umm, how about a strip club?” Well…

Yes! We had a winner. Into a cab we piled and headed way off the strip to Olympic Gardens. I’ve never been here before, but it’s a bit of a Vegas institution. The bottom floor is women strippers, and the top is men. Something for everyone. As we got into cab, the bellman said, “OG.” I took it as a compliment. Yeah, we are original gangsters because – you know – we were rolling like that. LOL. I mean, really. Three white lesbians cocked and ready to go.  Oh yea.

No, Butch, you lame ass. That’s what they call the club. So, off to OG we “rolled.”

Now, I have been to plenty of strip clubs in my day. Enough to relax about it. But, being single. Being in Vegas. With good friends. I got excited. Like when you are about-to-board-a-roller-coaster excited. In we went, slightly (fairly?) intoxicated.

I imagine that a few of you reading this might never have been to a strip club – perish the thought! As I have written before, I am available to be your wingman or tour guide for such an outing. Or, better yet, take your girlfriend – that’s hot. In the meantime, allow me to set the stage – so to speak. I mean, you won’t find Butch dancing on any poles – at least not in public!

All the strip clubs I have been to are laid out the same. There is a long dark hallway leading up to the entrance. Some have a cover charge you’ll pay when you show your ID and others do not. If they do not, they might have a two drink minimum, or maybe not. OG has a cover. Once paid and our IDs were checked, we moved into the club proper, also dark, though lighter than the hallway. Usually near the door is a bar, and a cashier. Past that is the main body of the club. A stage in the center of the room, with a varying number of poles for dancers. Flanking the stage will be front row seats. Further back from the stage, you will find tables and chairs, and still further back in the shadows, you will find booths. Sometimes, there are also back rooms and curtained off areas. I would avoid those for sure – no matter how nice the club is. But of course, to each her own.

Our first stop was for singles from the cashier – I got a lot. Second, my friend has found the perfect spot by the stage. At OG, there are 4 poles on the stage, but it looks like at any given time on this evening, only one will be in use. I kid you not, that within one dancer (a set of three songs) of us being there, every stripper used the pole right in front of us. And, do you know why? Because we were a group of lesbians. Respectful, well-behaved lesbians. And we were all tipping. So politely, too. The strippers must have sent up a flare. “OVER HERE! Kind Lesbians who won’t grope you. Dance over here, Ladies!”

A lovely, hard-working woman on a pole. Do you know how hard this is to do?

A lovely, hard-working woman on a pole. Do you know how hard this is to do?

And they did. And we didn’t. Lesbians must be the most respectful audience at a strip club. Why? We love women, so we pay attention. We love women, so we are respectful and super appreciative of: 1) how hard it is to move like that, 2) how difficult it is to stay looking like that, and 3) how gross it must be to dance for straight men all day. Sorry, guys. You must admit that strip clubs are not your best environment. You kinda come here to let loose, right? And, drop those gentlemanly manners of yours. Well, I don’t think that’s true for lesbians. At least not for me, and not for my friends.

So, we had lots of dancers focused on us. Stopping by, dancing close, of course, to encourage us to tip. The first dancer who came up to me asks me if I am single, and I said yes. My friends aren’t, so guess who got the most attention? This lesbian right here. How much fun was this! Beautiful women dancing for me, expecting nothing other than I pay attention and keep slipping ones into the various strings that they are wearing solely for this purpose. I’m not leaving here with a stripper. I’m not heading into any back room. Right? So, all I have to do is enjoy the femme attention. Oh, and keep paying for it with that big stack of ones in front of me. Done.

Now, as butch as I am, and as much as I like to pretend that I am a player (did I say pretend?), I am quite embarrassed to actually deliver the ones. I want to tip because I appreciate their work, but I am afraid to touch them because that seems so disrespectful. Thus, I have to be told that it is indeed ok to slide the dollar bill into the dancers’ g-string, or even better, they explain, into the special snappy string that they are wearing underneath the g-string. Yikes. ["Umm, where should I put it?" "Wherever you like, honey!"] After a few tries, I got it down. One dancer actually said to me when I verbalized my hesitation, “Honey! We are strippers, grab away. If you’ve got a one for me, slide it wherever you like!” I’m pretty sure I blushed – because, you know, I am just (not) that cool.

IMG_0315

As long as I’ve got my suit and tie…

So, there I am. All dressed up (three piece navy blue suit, dress shirt, bow tie, cufflinks, etc.). With good friends. Drinking. And, having a procession of young, attractive women with lithe bodies doting on us and me. Sigh. Some of you will think me a pig, I realize, and that’s ok. I had fun and if you don’t like it, so be it.

I finally had the nerve to get a lap dance. First time in my life.  The dancer had come over almost as soon as we sat down and started chatting me up. As you do. Anyway, later in the evening, I decided to go for it. We headed over to one of those couches – remember the ones that are just past the tables and more in shadows?

There was a lot, a lot, of chatting at the start, something I’m sure is not normal with male patrons. The stripper told me all about her family and why she was dancing. Then she shifted to the main event and started to dance kind of around, in front, and over me. It lasted longer than I thought it would, even though I bought a second dance.

When I went back to my friends, they peppered me with questions. How was it? Was it worth it? How do you feel? Blushing, I am pretty sure, I answered that it was nice. Much more intimate than I expected, but not gross. I got roundly teased and then we all turned our attention back to the dancers on stage. Those ones won’t tip themselves!

As we left the club, that dancer ran up to me and gave me a hug. She was topless as she had just left the patron (male, natch) that she was with and came to say goodbye to us. I guess we left an impression on her and others. What with being polite, respectful, and good tippers. Plus, we stood out. A group of very tall lesbians, including a few Butches. Anyway, I was proud of our group, but I suspect that this would be the case with any posse of lesbos. We are just so different in this environment from our male counterparts, and these, dancers, erm, strippers (“Honey!”) appreciated us – or maybe just our ones. :o)

It’s very butch to hit a strip club, and even more butch to make sure you tip well and treat the dancers like angels (such a hard job…). Be Butch.


Just Another Lesbian

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This morning I was dropping my kids off at school when I realized something. While walking back to my car, I saw myself through another mom’s eyes. I inhaled sharply as I realized that this morning, I look like just another lesbian. Meaning, stereotypically boyish/sloppy/casual.

I spend a fair amount of time talking about style and fashion, and challenging us butches to step it up a notch. Accordingly, I must turn myself in when I break all those rules, err, guidelines that I normally advocate.

Let me break it down, bottom to top:

1. Brown leather flip flops, by Reef. Bottle openers in the soles, natch.

2. Blue cotton cargo shorts, by Old Navy.

3. Grey t-shirt, slightly too big, untucked, by Life Is Good. Shudder. The cartoon on this gem is a tailgating Jake with a Jeep and a football. Add a rainbow flag to the Jeep and the football, and it’s a trifecta of the dyke stereotype.

4. Grey baseball cap covering up the morning flat mohawk, by Black Clover (albeit a strong hat worn stylishly askew).

5. No jewelry. No belt. No flair of any kind to tie it all together.

Yuck! Everything basically matches, of course, but the overall look? Not good. This is the lesbian equivalent of the straight mom dropping her kids off at school in her PJs. If you’ve ever dropped kids off, you have seen her. No makeup (or smeared eyeliner from the night before), hair in a scrunchy, PJ bottoms, tank top (probably pink), Uggs, and a Starbucks. Right?

For me, today’s outfit equals sweatpants, which I never leave the house in. Comfy, easy, practical, lazy. The furthest thing from stylish. Yes, sadly, today I contributed to the lesbian stereotype. I guess it happens sometimes.

But don’t worry – when I go out for drinks tonight, I will represent!

It’s butch to hold yourself accountable for how you look – even early in the morning. Be butch.


The Femme Faux Pas

Let’s talk about something light and fluffy on this Tuesday. The femme faux pas. What I am referring to here are things that our femmes do that are similar to our own butch fails (Butch Fails). But, since they are femmes, we would never call them that. They are femmes, after all, the kinder and gentler of our species. Dare I say that they never fail at anything? Femme faux pas seems better, though it’s hard to know what the plural is. So let’s just use “FFP.”

  1. Shy Cleavage: Not all femmes have cleavage in spades, but if you do and you don’t ever show it, that is a FFP. We need to see it sometimes. Actually, we probably want to see it all the time, but we don’t necessarily want you to show other people – so some discretion is required. It’s a tough balance. We get that.

    Wear this…

  2. Overlooking Quick Bow Tie Tying: Some of us butches take special pride in our bow ties, and for those of us who tie them ourselves (ahem), if we tie that perfect tie in a matter of seconds, you must notice. Not every time, of course, but often enough that we know you appreciate just how very butch we are.
  3. No Smokey Eye Makeup: We need you to wear that makeup proudly and generally try to keep up with the latest trends. The smokey eye is particularly sexy, I would go so far as to say, on every femme. Please learn how to do it, and please do it sometimes. It is super hot. No need to wear this or any make up every day, of course, but sometimes break out the special dark and stormy sexy look. But Butch, I don’t know how to do smokey eyes! You can find lots of instructional videos on YouTube; here’s one for beginners, for example: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n_aqWD_9gH8. Or, go to Sephora. They will show you how. Butches, you are welcome.

    …Not this

  4. Granny Panties: Really? Nothing more needed here. FFP
  5. No Purse: We are happy to carry your stuff most of the time, in our ample pockets, but on special occasions, please carry a purse. Then, you can carry our stuff! There is a special exception here for Sporty Spice Femmes. We know that you will never or rarely carry a purse, and we will adjust. Can we at least borrow your chap stick sometimes?
  6. No Pre-Lipstick Kiss: Right, butches? She is getting ready in the morning, or before going out, and once the lipstick is applied, there is no chance in hell of getting a good kiss. “Butch, you’ll ruin my lipstick!”  So, the procedure should be, your femme gets ready, and then the last thing she does is apply that lovely lip lacquer. Just before doing so, she calls out to you (you are on the bed fully dressed, waiting for her, and killing time on Facebook or Twitter) to come and get a “pre-lipstick kiss.” You come bounding over like a giant Sheep Dog. If this does not happen and the lipstick is already on, it will be a while before you get a good kiss. Please don’t forget, femmes.

    No way you are getting anywhere near these lips until the end of the evening.

  7. Wrong Bra: This could really be anything related to the bra – ill fitting, old, sports bra, etc. We butches care a great deal about this particular part of your bodies, and so we also care a lot about the piece of magical clothing that protects this part of you. Please make sure that it fits you well, is flattering, is not old and gray, and is perhaps a sexy, lacy/satiny/cute cottony type number. You know, not something we would wear.
  8. Never Wearing Heels: Now, I am not a Neanderthal. No, I am an evolved butch, so I am not stupid, and I know that heels are torture devices. They hurt and are not easy to walk in. I get that heels are to be saved for special occasions for many femmes. No problem. But when those special occasions come around, will you please think about wearing them? If not, please wear them at home for us – even just for a short while…

    Image

    How about these?

  9. Too Many Pants: Pants are lovely. Pants are great for evolved women. Pants are practical. Pants can be flattering. Pants are perfect for every day wear. But, we butches would love to see you in a dress or skirt every now and then. Would that be alright?

So, even in pointing out – in a light and fluffy way – some of the shortcomings of a femme, I am left singing their praises. Ahh, the femme.  How about you, dear readers, can you think of any FFPs?

It is very butch to love your femme. Be butch.


Butchscaping among the Gorillas

Dian Fossey, courtesy of Dian Fossey Gorilla Fund International

I am Dian Fossey, sneaking up to a circle of gorillas. The gorillas are foreign to me, and I seem alien to them, not of their kind. These gorillas are straights, and I’m observing them in their natural habitat, in the midst of where they perform their beauty rituals. A nail salon. Will I be accepted as one of them? Will they share their customs and nail polish with me? Or will they hiss at me from their comfortable, reclined, vibrating chairs, sending me running for my life, without my much-needed pedicure?

Before you get all “But Butch, men and butches do get pedicures,” let me remind you that while of course it is allowed, we aren’t exactly welcomed with open arms. The gorillas were okay with Dian Fossey watching from a distance (i.e., us butches and men waiting by the door to pick up our girls after their nails are done), but they weren’t exactly waving her over to pick nits off of her – not at first anyway. It took them months to let her into their circle and share nail polish. I don’t have that kind of time. My feet and toenails look like crap and I need a pedicure stat.

When I walk in, odd silence. From the ladies who work there: Is he in the wrong place? Looking for his wife? Ohhh, he’s here for a pedicure. Hmmm. Wait, I think that’s a woman (all in Vietnamese, of course). The women in the chairs look up from their magazines and iPhones, the same thoughts going through their minds. But no hissing. No bearing of teeth. Maybe they won’t attack if I stand still by the door for a while and let them acclimate to my presence. Which is exactly what I do until the salon owner says, “What do you want, honey?” I answer boldly – trying not to show fear to the gorillas – “I want a mani/pedi.” I figure, why not? Might as well have my hands done, too. Buff, of course (meaning no polish, just shiny, clean nails). Sometimes, I get my finger nails painted black for a slightly edgy rock star butch look (albeit an older, more  has-been rock star). Not today, though, just buff for the fingers. “Sit down, honey. Tina will be right with you.”

I sit down, wait my turn, and avoid eye contact with the other women waiting. There’s the young hipster who is neither surprised nor interested in me. Excellent. There is the older grandmother who looks at me oddly, but not meanly. Then there is the woman with huge boobs and a Gerber baby. I dig babies and like to make faces at them and make them smile. Make friends with the baby gorilla, and the mom will accept you, right? Straight women don’t expect this from a dude, or from me, so they think I’m cute. Now the grandmother thinks I’m the cat’s pajamas because I’m a dude who likes babies. She has no idea I’m a butch. So far, so good.

After waiting for a few minutes, Tina takes me to my seat. The gorillas are calm and seem unphased, so I make it to my station unscathed, except for a few quick glances. I sit down and because I am so tall I have to move my seat all the way back. I look like a professional basketball player stuffed into a tiny Fiat; my feet are in the water and my knees almost hit me in the face. Very graceful. I’m not exactly blending in.

I spaced like a rookie and forgot to “pick a color” for my toes, so I jump up to grab one. I startle the gorillas with my jerky movement, but I’m still allowed to move freely. I feel confident, so decide to branch out from my comfort zone of butch colors (black and navy) and go all street-walker with “Romeo & Juliet,” a deep, and no doubt tragic, maroon polish. So young. So sad.

See the gross CVS carpet in the background? This is where we fled for new flip-flops.

Here is a picture of my Romeo & Juliet toes. I’m Romeo, of course.

Butches, if you think that manicures and pedicures are for girls, generally you’re right, but get over that. You can’t walk around with huge calluses on your feet and gnarly, long toenails. You can have clean, buffed fingernails and still have outrageously strong, (and in my case, big) hands. Nothing wrong with a pedicure, and a manicure doesn’t take away your butchness.  It makes you more appealing. Think about all the things you do that involve your hands… You don’t actually want to sand your femme’s face, do you?

Clean yourself up. Keep it together. Manscaping isn’t right for us, but how about Butchscaping?  Don’t you want to be the well-groomed butch?  Don’t you want your femme to stare at your hands and imagine you touching her? Femmes, which do you prefer, well-groomed or beastly?

As for my trip today among the gorillas and their beauty rituals, it turns out the gorillas are okay. They accept me into their circle, and my feet look tight. One note on pedicures. Don’t wear your tennis shoes into the salon. If you do, you will be forced to walk out with these stupid little throw away flip-flops that they have for you. This could be ok, or you could end up being given a pink pair, as happened to me today.  Ugh.

Beware the dreaded pink flip-flops & bring your own!

Because we were going out to lunch, we had to fix this. We went straight to CVS to buy a different pair of crappy flip-flops that were more to my butch liking. No self-respecting butch can walk into an establishment, let alone one in the Gayborhood, wearing the shoes in this picture. Plan ahead and this won’t be a problem.

It’s butch to get manicures and pedicures. Be butch.


Hit On Someone Your Own Size

Alright, so I gotta vent. WTF is wrong with straight men? Now, boys, before you get all puffy-chested and start grabbing yourselves, let me say that I know that I am generalizing. But some of you, WTF? Allow me to explain.

You all know about me – big butch lesbian, and you all know about the gorgeous fiancé – petite, pretty, curvy, abfab femme. Right? So we are a couple. And everybody knows it. And, if someone doesn’t know right away, I introduce her as “my partner.” So, then they know. Cool?

We recently went to an event that was mostly straight people, with lots of alcohol. I looked very butch – surprise! She looked very femme (sexy blouse and heels, etc.). I expected to have fun, and we did for the most part. I did not expect to have to cockblock some of the straight guys.

First, there was a guy we knew who says to her “You are really cute.” So far, ok. She says, “Thanks.” But then he continues, “If you were straight, I would not stop hitting on you. What the hell. I’m just going to hit on you anyway.” Umm, what? The GF replies (a bit uncomfortable now). “Have you met, Butch?” He says, “Oh, I can take Butch.” Really? Had I heard him, I would have been the one puffing up my chest, getting in his face, with a stern NO YOU CAN’T. But I didn’t hear any of this.

I was upset when she told me a little bit later. She didn’t want me to do anything, and so I didn’t. Now, for those of you who’ve read my blog, you know that the gorgeous fiancé can take care of herself. She is a badass. But still, she’s tiny and pretty. Isn’t it my job to protect her? Isn’t this what a butch does?

Later, another guy we knew took a Guinness bar swag button (think the Easy button) and stuck it to one of her breasts. Yes, really. She was so shocked, she didn’t know what to do. She walked away and again told me shortly after. I was not to do anything. She didn’t want to cause a scene during an important event for me, and anyway, was this simply normal behavior in the straight world and were we overreacting?

There was also a lot of general lascivious staring and ogling. That’s fairly normal, as she definitely gets checked out. I notice it. The normal check out is alright, of course. What am I, a Neanderthal? An ape? No, I’m an evolved Butch. I know that this stuff is flattering to me. Sometimes I make eye contact with the ogling male and give him a good, “Yes, all that loveliness that you are appreciating? That’s for me. Not you. So suck it.”  But there’s definitely a line, and I don’t think that either of us really knows where to draw it.

We talked about it later that night and she reiterated that she really didn’t want to cause a scene or ruin the fun. So I listened to her and respected her wishes. It’s about her, after all, not me. But still, I can’t help but think that these guys would not have treated her in the same way if I were a guy standing next to her, as big as I am. Would they have?

Even if she was able to be Zen with it all, it got me thinking. Straight girls, how do you do it? This must happen a lot, right? You go out, you look good, and you get hit on. Straight guys, how do you do it?  Your wives and girlfriends must get hit on. What do you do?

If I were a straight guy, I would know what to do, right? I would be able to do the chuck-on-the-shoulder, dude-knock-it-off-move and the guy would get it. Do they teach you guys this early on? “Ok, dude, here is the protocol when your friend hits on your girlfriend…” I certainly didn’t get that training. If my gorgeous fiancé were straight, this would happen to her all the time and she would have developed a flawless approach to smoothly handling advances, complete with varying responses dependent on the severity of the sitch and the douchiness of the guy.

Neither of us has been given the playbook.

So, now that I have vented, I have some questions for you:

1.         Guys, do you behave like this?

2.         Guys, how do you handle it when someone hits on your girl?

3.         Do you think these guys would have treated my gorgeous fiancé in the same way if I were a dude?

4.         Butches, what do you do when a dude hits on your femme? How does your femme want you to react?

5.         Femmes, what do you do when someone hits on you? Do you want your butch to step in?

I must add, almost as a footnote, that I did tell the “if you were straight” that he needed to stop hitting on my fiancé. I said it very matter-of-factly. He tried to tell me that it was all in good fun (yes, we had loads of fun), he didn’t mean anything by it (unless of course she had indicated any interest), and it isn’t like he’s going to take her from me (that is certainly true). But, I stood my ground.

But was that the right thing to do? Too much, not enough? This butch needs guidance. It’s butch to have a hot femme fiancé who others find attractive. It’s also butch to keep from punching those who cross the line, wherever that line may be. Be Butch.


Tiny Dogs, Gentle Giants

As we know, butches relate to the world slightly differently than femmes. For example, my male friends routinely slap or punch me on the shoulder. Fist bumps are routine. “What’s up, man?” I’m asked regularly. This NEVER happens to my gorgeous fiancé. It got me thinking about other things that I hear – either from her or from others – that she would not hear. Here are a handful that I have experienced.

1. “Sir.”

Maybe an obvious one, but I can’t really skip over it. Say it with any inflection you like: “Sir!” “Sir?” “Sir…” Femmes do not hear this. Straight women – for the most part – do not hear this, but I would wager a bet that most butches hear this – frequently. It happens to me at least once a week. I have written about this a decent amount. You get the picture by now.

2. “Baby you have to be more secure in your butchness so we can have a small dog.”

This was a very funny one and it went like this. I love big dogs, the bigger and fluffier, the better. My gorgeous fiancé likes little dogs – tiny ones even. I prefer big dogs for lots of reasons. One of those, a minor one, is how silly I think a butch looks walking a tiny dog. Obviously, that’s dumb and not a reason to choose or not choose a dog to rescue. I have hesitated, however, to agree to a small dog, and my hesitation generated the statement above. We will be getting a tiny dog…and a big dog, too. Hey, compromises make the world go round. Woof.

3. “When your muscles actually start showing, you are going to be such a pain.”

So, I have been on a serious mission to slim down and bulk up. I want less fat and more muscle. Little hints of muscle are starting to show – at least I think so. The other day, I put my arms around my girl and flexed my bicep. She looked slightly exasperated, because she has caught me flexing in the mirror when I thought she wasn’t looking, and made the above statement. I’ll need to be more subtle in my flexing from now on.

4. “Your Butchness”

My friend Jason called me this the other day, and I freakin loved it. I felt honored to have earned this name. It’s like the butch equivalent of “your honor” or “your highness.” I may have to print some business cards with this title.

5. “That’s where you draw the line? An undershirt?”

I bought some men’s dress shirts from Banana Republic and they were very, very thin. I tried the yellow shirt on (purchased to go with my cool blue and white pelican bow tie) and you could see through it. My gorgeous fiancé suggested that I wear an undershirt, to which I responded negatively.

An undershirt? YUCK. Why would I want to wear a men’s undershirt? I mean, when I think of a men’s undershirt, I think about this guy. Eeew. Why would I want to look like this guy?

She looked at me – standing there in my men’s jeans, men’s shirt, men’s shoes, men’s jewelry, and a bow tie – and said, “That’s where you draw the line, an undershirt?” I guess it is an odd place to draw the line. I have since gotten some nice, high quality undershirts, and I love them. They look nothing like the ones that Homer Simpson passes out in, dreaming of donuts and Duff Beer. Mmmm, donuts.

6. “This is the ladies room.”

Yes, I know, annoying stranger in the mall, restaurant or airport. Thank you for stating the absolutely and unnecessarily obvious. I am in the right place. Are you? Next.

7. “You really are a gentle giant.”

This is my favorite, from my gorgeous fiancé. Think of all that it conveys. I am big and strong like a giant. Plus, I am gentle as a lamb – actually, like a huge dog. When is the last time you saw a hyper Newfoundland, Great Dane, or Norwegian Wolfhound? I am the great protector. Heh.

Butches, what other things have you heard that you would add to this list?

I love it when people find a way to reference my butchness, good or bad. It reminds me that butches are a special breed who get to experience and hear things that very few other women experience and hear. This is part of what makes us special. Hey – it’s butch to wear an undershirt into the ladies’ room while walking a tiny dog. Be butch.


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