What I am looking for
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Posted:Jul 23, 2018 5:43 am
Last Updated:Jul 24, 2018 5:21 am
3623 Views
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It is not kinks
Sex is but a part of it. Not even a huge part
It is not hierarchical as in master/slave, or sub/dom
It is connection oriented
It is between two people, not three or more
I want love
I want to adore someone
I want to devote myself to her well being.
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Concert Night
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Posted:Jun 24, 2018 12:26 pm
Last Updated:Apr 16, 2024 1:2 am
3571 Views
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Since I have been alone without my parter who kept me happy, sane, modest, and simple, I have been left to my own sensibilities. It has been more than a month, and as a sexual woman I have been quite on the edge of needing sexual gratification. Masturbation has been less than gratifying for someone who needs human contact. As a lesbian who has been left behind, After repeated rejections from the woman I love and have loved for 5 years, and little attention from the lesbian of Ottawa and online, I began to think I might get some attention without strings from men (isn't that what they all want anyway?). So after so much chatting online with no offers, I got dressed in this little micro-mini dress with lace panties, and headed out toward the music coming through my window.
Being 5'7" tall with long legs, I was showing a lot of leg in this outfit. I got to the beach area where the concert was being held. The hill was covered with people and there was a crowd of people gathered in front of the stage. I worked my way through the stage and found a spot where there was a group of dancing. So I started dancing too, and one of the girls began dancing to me. We carried that around in circles a couple times before she returned to dancing to the to the other girls. I moved off to another spot and dance with some girls there. This has been a pattern for me for a long time. The girls like to dance with me. I am a dancer with dance training in my background. So I danced quite a bit of a couple of hours then I walked home alone. That is part of the pattern.
Back in New years 2012/2013 I was doing the same thing when I found a woman who danced with me for two and a half hours. We loved each other for five years before she needed to break up with me.
But this concert night was comforting in the small intimacies of dances shared with girls.
I slept alone
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My first Lesbian Lover
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Posted:Jun 19, 2018 10:24 am
Last Updated:Apr 16, 2024 1:2 am
3588 Views
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I knew when I realized that I never could make a relationship last with a men that I was a lesbian. I decided to love everything, everyone, and myself. I got involved with female groups, I began going out dancing a lot. I am a dancer with dance training in my background.
After about a year and a half I danced with a woman for an hour and a half on New Years evening in 2012. We became lovers 21 days after that dance. Me? I was convinced that she was the one during the dance.
Our relationship lasted for five years and did not break up over lack of love.
We had had a crisis during summer of 2014 and I became a Shambhala Buddhist in response. We moved to Ottawa when she entered Graduate School at Carleton University during 2015. She asked me if I wanted to be her Grad School bitch.
We moved to Ottawa in the summer of 2015. She made it most of the way to a Masters degree when she became disabled. I served her through all of it. I adored her and shopped, cooked, cleaned and touched her where she wanted to be touched.
She did not achieve orgasm easily, but I learned how to touch her, how to listen to her breath and feel the way she moved and I touched her in response. We had orgasms most of the time.
When we broke up it was because she had no energy left to take care of me in the ways that she had been doing. She loved me during the breakup period and after. She loves me still.
And I need to find a new woman who can receive adoration, who can accept my devotion.
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A Barefoot Ecstatic Dance, a Queer Dance, and Missing N.
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Posted:Feb 24, 2013 4:02 pm
Last Updated:Apr 16, 2024 1:2 am
11239 Views
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It is past noon, and I've not yet finished my coffee, and am only just now having breakfast. At least I am washed and dressed - mostly.
Last night I went to the Barefoot Ecstatic Dance. I arrived at the location on Grafton St. a little after 8 PM. Admission was based on the honor system; a box sat on the table at the entrance to the large dance space. Multicolored Christmas lights snaked along all four walls, filling the air with the same ambiance as any living room gets at Christmastime with the lights on the tree lit, and all other lights off. A handful of people, mostly women, some , and sprinkling of men sat, lay upon, or walked around the floor, most stretching in anticipation of the dance. Soft aimless pseudo-natural music filled the space.
A woman approached me as I entered. She was shorter than me, perhaps 5' 5"-ish. She had the presence of a dancer, and she appeared to be in her late thirties or early forties. She asked me if I had ever attended a barefoot ecstatic dance before. I told her that I had been wanting to for months, but other commitments had prevented me from coming.
I headed to the left where there was a bank of chairs. I chose an empty one, and sat, shedding my coat, and white sweatshirt hoodie, took off my boots and socks, and looked around, taking in the space, feeling it. Another woman sat next to me. She also asked me if I'd been there before. I gave her the same answer, and effused to her - I had also to the first woman. My penchant for effusing was constant throughout the night. Everyone who heard offered their congratulations.
I traversed the periphery of the space before sitting and stretching along with the others. As I walked, I felt each step connect, and root with the floor. I imagined drawing the power generated by previous dances and stored in the wood of the floor. I felt strong, I felt sexy. I do not have the flexibility the other women displayed, but I certainly had more than the men. After 15 minutes or so of this, one of the lead dancers called us all into a circle. She explained the rules: no talking during the event/experience, voicing in animal noises or other noises is permitted. She went on to explain that the music would start slow, rise in intensity, and then fall again at the end. Then we started.
People swayed, some floating their arms as though on the surface of waves, all interpretations of the music individual and connected. Over the passage of two or three pieces of music people rose from the floor. The music rose in energy and vigor. Some rhythms reminded me of my dance classes, some reflected rhythms from around the world, pervasive, seeping into the bones, motivating the flesh. Some of the music was contemporary, jazzy, richly textured. I began to circulate. Moving amongst the people here was different than it is at other places. Here, people spread out, individual islands on the sea of the floor, evenly spaced. Sometimes I had to time my movements with the dance of another in order to move to another region of the floor. most people stay rooted at first, but I was not the only one circulating. We were like currents in the sea.
Here, as with other dance venues, I encountered some who resonated with me. I also connected with some of the floaters. As always there are one or two who keep me a little longer, who smile broadly when I return, and connect with me as I dance their way. Almost always these people are very young, once in a while they are older, maybe in their thirties. But this dance for all of its similarities in the responses I received from people, had a different dynamic. No alcohol, as a matter of face no drinking or eating of anything, everyone dance, though some sat quietly on the edges for a time. Somewhere in the middle of the event, a chain of dancers circulated around the floor, gathering people as they circulated. I placed my hands on the hips of one of the dancers [when I refer to dancers I mean women who have spent their lives in dance]. This chain endured for a song, or two before it fragmented into individuals. Later a tiny train constituted only with made the rounds. I gravitated back to my purse for a kleenex regularly. I sent N. a terse response during one of those trips.
Eventually the music began to cool. People got closer and closer to the floor, and the music returned to its aimless state for a while. As we all lay in various poses of quiescence, people emitted animal noises; there was frequent laughter. I was a raven. Somewhere in the middle of the dance I had lost my glasses; earlier I had hung them from the V in my dress at the bottom of my cleavage. Someone had found them and placed them on the table by the music system.
I redressed for my journey to the next party in the chilly night air. My hands got cold as I responded to one of N's emails.
When I arrived at the Queer party, there were two people standing on the landing. I did not know them. I said hello, and entered. There was a long flight of stairs leading to the upper apartment. The facebook page that had advertised this event referred to the place as The Labyrinth.
One of the first people I saw was Laura, a transgender woman who is just four years younger than me. She looks older. And she suffers a lot from ridicule because she is so obviously trans; it is sad. I told her that I was thirsty and wanted water. She suggested the home-made beer.The paper by the crate with the beer said, "By ". I dropped a twoonie into the jar. It was the only beer I drank while there. In the picture I sent you, there was water in the bottle; I used the bottle all night. I retreated down the hallway for a little privacy while I fixed my dress. The halter had slipped at the other dance. No one was dancing when I first arrived. Shay was cutting [Morgan's] hair in the bathroom - I don't know what Morgan's male name is. Shay is also a trans-male. There was a girl at the kitchen table applying makeup to another girl. Jacqueline, chair of the board at South House, was setting up the music in the living room; the room had been cleared to maximize the available space for dancing. Rianne arrived and said hello. There were a couple other transmen that I knew from Hot Times that were there too.
Jacqueline got the music playing, and I danced alone for a little while; she plays a really danceable mix!. When I saw Lee-Ann Poole walk in. She approached me and wrapped me in a great big hug, and asked me if I've been doing any writing lately. I told her about the books that I have read that you gave me. She knew them both. I effused to her about you, and as I told her about how we met, she observed that my story was prescient. I told her that you were better than that woman; you are real, and I could not possibly write you. She laughed. Lee-Ann wrote Short Skirt Butch, a play in one voice that was opened to the fringe festival here two years ago, and played again last year. She had given me some sage and simple advice in adapting my story to a play.
I refilled my beer bottle with water, and then returned to the living room that now had some people dancing in it. There was a young pair dancing. A tall girl, taller than me by a little who appeared very strong, was thin, and had exquisite rhythm, her partner was a shorter transgirl who hopelessly tried to match her partner's rhythm. As I danced near them, the tall girl focussed on me. We then danced together for a fair bit of time. I couldn't match her exactly but was able to do something close to what she was doing, and she adapter hers to me. She was the first to bump up against me. The room continued filling and I danced with others too. The smell of sweating, dancing young women was intoxicating.
After a while, I had to return to the kitchen to refill my bottle. Standing by the sink was a group of young women. I chatted with them for a while, again returning to my constant refrain about you. . I also talked to them about dance. They followed me to the dance floor. I danced a bit with each of them, and dance a little more with the tall girl. Jordan entered the dance floor area and connected with about six other people before she saw me. She is another Hot Times person. She danced over to me an looped a long red christmas streamer over my neck. I danced, using the streamer to some effect for a while before finally dumping it onto one of the two chairs in the room.
At some indeterminate time later, a short girl with chin level dark hair came in and began dancing with me. She got up close and intimate right quickly. The grind is fun, but I am beginning to think it takes a very special connection between any two people to sustain the mutual rhythm. My solution has been to roll from behind, maintaining contact while I dance to her front. It always seems to get smile. There was a black girl, a big girl, with very nice rhythm also gravitated toward me. My simile of her rhythm drew adaptation from her.
Much as I have always loved dancing in this way, and still do, my heart now lies in N's hands. I would always rather be with her. And I recognize that the complexity of this polyamorous relationship will alway bias our choices in ways that will often be heart-rending to both of us.
I did not stay till the end of the party. I wanted not to be in bed all day today because I have to get up especially early to open the lab by 8 tomorrow.
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A Boundary Encounter, and another Job Interview
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Posted:Feb 21, 2013 12:45 pm
Last Updated:Feb 24, 2013 1:31 pm
11100 Views
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We had an email exchange that resulted in a misunderstanding of intent. She thought it was a blatant sexual invitation, reacted, and sent an email that felt like an ending. I thought about how to respond to her all the next day, yesterday. Finally I realized what she was reacting to, and told her what my intent really was: ambiance. She replied during my interview with Home Instead Senior Care. When I managed to read it later, I was flabbergasted. She had written in new levels of intimacy indicating a depth of feeling for me that was surprising. She had another appointment scheduled for today, and said we could meet in the interstices (my word) between another meeting she had scheduled.
This morning she said she was really looking forward to seeing me.
So when she rang the bell, surprising me because I was not expecting her for another 20 minutes, I let her walk in the door before I regaled her, "We have encountered our first boundary." Then I kissed her. I had hoped she would let me hold that kiss for, say, thirty seconds, but she never let it go. For a whole hour and a half we made out. She eventually told me she wanted me to touch her breasts. I had to undo my bra so that she could touch mine. We pressed against each other, skin to skin, breast to breast for a long time. We explored each other's mouths. I told her later, during a brief lull, that this was the first time a woman had ever touched my breasts. She said, "likewise". We agreed, that we were going to have talk about this, but now was not the time for talking. We did not talk very much, and we spent an entire hour and a half together!
She was likely late meeting her friend.
Tomorrow morning at 11, I have an interview at IWK Research for a job as Assistant Web Developer. The IWK Research department is a container for all the clinical studies at the IWK. I will be drawing on all that I learned at Halifax Biomedical in the interview. Everything I learned about clinical studies applies here. I am going to take over the interview just like I did for Halifax Biomedical. I really really want this job!
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2 Calls for Job Interviews, and a visit
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Posted:Feb 18, 2013 5:35 pm
Last Updated:Feb 21, 2013 6:32 am
11119 Views
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This morning I received a call from Home Instead Senior Care with an invitation for an interview on Wednesday. The pay is scarcely above minimum wage. I'll be spending time on their website tomorrow. The other call came while I was walking home from the bank. I had taken a cash advance from my credit card so that I could put money in the bank to cover an auto-deduction. This call was for a rather better job.
I had applied for a job as assistant web developer at the IWK. I was definitely not expecting to hear from them! But Friday morning at 11 I am to go to one of the IWK buildings, and find the door labelled, "Research". There I will be interviewed for a position that will pay a middle class salary.
In the afternoon, I received an email from the Multicultural Association. I had applied for a couple of jobs there. One was Event Coordinator, and the email was asking confirmation that I had been a recipient of EI funding within the last three years.
Not long after that, Nerissa came by. She had another physio appointment, and we had a good hour and a half together this time. We had tea, and I got to tell her something that has been on my mind, and I have written about that here. I talked about my dance experiences since I became a lesbian, and how my dance with her was crucially different. She is the only one to have stayed with me for that long. I reminded her of the story I'd written about New Years Eve. I told her that I had not seen THAT look until I danced with her. I also told her that I was not going to ask her about how she had felt. She said, "Really?". I think I surprised her with that statement.
We talked about her academic stuff. We talked about Buddhism, and she told me about some things that happened to her in the past. She even observed that we were both wearing pink.
While we were talking she heard my phone ding, and asked what the noise was. I told her it was just my phone announcing the receipt of mail.
When it was time for her to go, we hugged. We kissed, a little longer this time than last. Our hug was long, and close. And as she went out the door, I reiterated that I wanted all things between us to be like our dance; continuous consent.
The email that had arrived was, amongst others, again from the MultiCultural Association, this one about the Festival Coordinator position.
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Print Books, E-Books, and N.
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Posted:Feb 16, 2013 5:38 pm
Last Updated:Feb 17, 2013 8:52 am
11038 Views
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Today, I finished reading cunt, and while I was in the bath I read another chapter in The Ethical Slut, and I fielded another email from N. While I was responding to it, she sent another.
It is not lost on me, the amount of time she puts into writing to me. She is a mother, a wife, a student, and a volunteer, and she works part-time. The time she gives to me is a gift, and I appreciate that.
Every day, at least one of her emails is tagged with love, but it is the stuff within the emails that really communicates the feelings she has, the kind of things one is tempted to think of as signs of love. And she agrees with me, the books she recommended are essentially about freedom. Freedom of Choice for women, and for a sexual or gender variant people
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Another Email From N.
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Posted:Feb 14, 2013 6:34 pm
Last Updated:Feb 19, 2013 6:24 pm
11455 Views
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Now this one was a real surprise! She told me that her husband had suggested an open relationship some time ago. Of the people she had considered, one was a woman. But in sum, no one ever quite lived up to the promise. Even for her husband, he was left re-evaluating it.
She told me she was going to send me a copy of The Ethical Slut. Toward the end of the email she said she felt 'liberated' by the idea of polamory, even if she never pursues it, She went on to say that whatever else, she has more room to form her own identity.
I wonder, and hope, that there is room for me somewhere in her Land of Its Complicated.
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My 3rd visit with N.
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Posted:Feb 12, 2013 12:33 pm
Last Updated:Feb 14, 2013 8:13 am
11229 Views
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We only had a half an hour this time. She arrived at my place and loaned me two books. Metaphors We Live By, and Cunt. We had chai, and talked for the little time we had. She had given me a long warm hug. Our talk was about her midterm, her honors thesis, statistics. She is such a smart and lovely woman. Again she did not hesitate to give me a kiss and a hug goodbye.
I had planned, lying awake in the night last night, to tell her something, some of which she already knows. I wanted to say, that since I realized I was a lesbian, in all the thinking I had done, that was the time I had decided that a sexual hiatus was appropriate. I had further realized that I would know when the hiatus was over when I saw THAT look in some woman’s eyes. That was exactly what I saw on New Years Eve when I danced with her. I was slow to recognize the fact of what I saw, but I was totally enthralled while dancing with her; she saw that same look in my eyes. .
Sigh, that will have to wait for another time.
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My Meeting with N.
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Posted:Feb 11, 2013 5:41 pm
Last Updated:Apr 16, 2024 1:2 am
11418 Views
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The snowbanks along the street sides, and along sections of the sidewalk forced me to walk in the road on the way from home to Alter Egos for my meeting with N. No one had yet formed a passage across the bank in front of Alter Egos; the bank was waist high. I adopted that task for myself. The snow was light, powdery almost. I stepped on the snow close to the surface of the road first, stepping multiple times until a base was formed then repeated the task again and again until I had created steps to the top.
I entered the venue, and chose a spot close to the bookshelf, and the milk and creme shelf. I had not yet finished divesting myself of layers when she walked in. We hugged in greeting, a warm, close hug. I invited her to sit next to me on the bench. She replied that it would be easier to hear each other that way. We sat down. She said she had seen me blaze the trail across the bank, and waited for me to complete it.
Over the next couple of hours she talked sociology theory, and I chimed in when the constructs made sense to me, and I could add a critique, or comparison. For this stuff my philosophy background is adequate preparation. Somewhere in the middle of it she addressed a small part of the complexity of our relationship. I had sent her a copy of the story I had written for the Transgender Inclusion Committee. She had read it, and thought that I was attempting to slot her into the role of the other woman. She said that it had made her uneasy. I am not certain of what I wore on my face but she asked me what I thought of that. I paused, thinking. I do not now recall what I had said in response, but I did tell her that I now intended to take things as they came, moment to moment, day by day, that I intended not to engage preconceived notions of desirable outcomes. She said she had no intention of cutting things off. I told her that I intended to use our dance as guiding metaphor for all of my interactions with her, and touched her fingers as I talked. She permitted the touch, but did not extend it.
When our time came to an end she walked with me to my place so that I could give her a portion of the beans I had cooked a couple days ago. M, my roommate stayed in her bedroom while N. was there. I showed her around the place, then we walked back to her car. Standing next to her door, face to face, I asked her if our relationship will permit a kiss. She smiled, and did not hesitate for more than a breath. I don’t remember if she nodded her acknowledgement, said yes, or simply stepped forward and kissed me. It was brief, and warm, and I remember the sensation of the fullness of her lips on mine.
Later in the evening she sent emails, both of them signed off with love. Even today, she said she woke in the night with a crystal clear image of me in her mind, that she remained awake longer into the night. And when I responded by telling her that I too would lie awake in the night over such a comment, she said I should not, because she had intended no provocation, nor to be cryptic. She said further, and simply that I am now part of her life. Better and Better!
I think I know how to approach her now. I am thinking of Upadana, a sanskrit term that means clinging, or grasping, attachment. There are five kinds. I’ll not list the kinds here, but what I believe I must do is to rid myself of self, and all forms of attachment. I do know how; I’ve been living this way pretty much for a while now. Her husband used to be a hindu (he is a white north american), and now has a relationship with the Shambala Centre, and N has been involved, at least from the periphery, and maybe more. I am thinking that our dance was more significant that I had thought, I am thinking that my life has shaped me for this time, I am thinking that if I can be open to the multiplicities of possibilities free of expectation, that this could be a profoundly rich experience.
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So Looking Forward to My Meeting with N!
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Posted:Feb 9, 2013 12:24 pm
Last Updated:Apr 16, 2024 1:2 am
11402 Views
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Sitting at home today with a tickle in my nasal passages, and realizing I ought not go dancing till the wee hours tonight at the Hard Candy w/ Eviction at Michael's Bar and Grill tonight. Better if I got a good night's sleep, and let this bug finally exit my system tonight, so that I can be in good form to Meet Nerissa.
As I said in my previous post, she surprised me this week with her compliments of the way I present in my bathing suit, and how the picture of me cradling the OED in my arm made her week.
Since then she has signed most of her emails with love. The first time caused me a delightful sleepless night.
I am awaiting our chance to talk about our possibilities within the context of her 20 year old marriage. I have some ideas, and I have already written to her about how she and her husband have woven a tapestry of life and love over the last 20 years, and it is a beautiful thing that should not be torn, mangled, or damaged in any way.
The complications here are profound, and deep. At first face there would seem no options, for secrecy, hiding our relationship from her husband and , are hurtful not only to them, but also to her.
I can think of only one answer: polyamory
It would require that her husband, and , and all accept and welcome me into the family. It would have to be on the understanding that her husband would not have sexual access to me.
Its a longshot. But hey! She's the only woman who has expressed an interest in me in the last two years. Before that I had not yet come to understand that I am a lesbian.
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An opening door with N.
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Posted:Feb 8, 2013 7:28 am
Last Updated:Apr 16, 2024 1:2 am
11412 Views
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A couple days ago she surprised me. That surprise followed an exchange where she had told me about a research project she was starting that involved gathering data from the Plenty of Fish website. I responded by telling her that I had an account on that site.
In her next email she told me she couldn’t find my profile, so I responded that one by sending my profile name. Then came the surprising email. She called me brave, she lauded me for my bathing suit picture, saying she would never be able to pull off such a picture with such aplomb. What followed was an enumerated list of good things that had happened that day. One was a reference to her husband. Another was about a dinner date she had with one of the professors from The Mount. But the third, the last point was different in character from anything she had sent me previously.
She referred to ‘us’, saying, well here, I'll show you
" And, I was very happy to hear from you. Felt a little over-exposed after all this talk of evolving/emerging/ambiguous sexual identity and group therapy and everything; I would not expect you to judge me harshly, but there is always the possibility that my many, many inconvenient mis-matches with the substance of your dreams and longings could add up to you deciding that your energies are best exerted elsewhere [“This woman is a ball of snakes!” as Bob said about a former lover from his youth; o dear…] I do understand that that point may still come, where you feel – well, shit, Daphne, I think we have ourselves firmly in the land of It’s Complicated, and we should probably Talk About It, you know? Eeek!"
We will be meeting again this Sunday, which is also Shambala New Year. She observed that we have a “New Year thing going”. She has continued her descriptions of her daily minutia, always with her own delightful wry spin on it.
And just last night she sent an email. It confirmed the location choice: Alter Egos Cafe and Hostel. Up till now she has always signed off simply with –N, but this time she added “Love”
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Party at Bedtime
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Posted:Feb 2, 2013 6:25 pm
Last Updated:Feb 5, 2013 10:10 am
11674 Views
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Last night, just after I answered your email, I went to get ready for bed, but downstairs the noise of a party was floating up through the floor. This time, unlike the previous times I heard the party down there, I did not have any work scheduled for the next day. So I decided to walk down, knock on the door, and see if they had room for another party-goer. The fellow who opened the door recognized me, invited me in, and escorted me to the corner of the living room where there the kegs were. The birthday girl was the cousin of one of the guys who lives in the apartment. She told me that she had met me at the Company House.
I met some of the girls standing around talking, and a couple of them said they recognized me.
A little later a woman came in who was closer to my age, and it turned out that she was the aunt of the guy in the apartment, and of the birthday girl. I had a long conversation with her. Later a couple of women came in, separately, that I knew.
Later still some more people came in. Some people started playing guitar in the bedroom. I listened for a while until one put down his guitar, and I got a chance to play. A pretty girl sang blackbird while I played it on the guitar. She had a lovely voice.
A bit later on, I finally got to meet one of the women that had come in earlier. She told me that she recognized me from the Wetspot photos. She has been involved in organizing the Wetspot for years. We had a really nice conversation, and she admitted to me that she has found it difficult to find a meet a woman who could be a mate. I told her my tale of how I came out, and told her I had the same difficulty. Amongst the other things we talked about, we discussed hair. She told me that my hair was distinctive, that I stand out in a crowd.
All in all, I had a good time. Its about time I got chance to join the party instead of suffering through it because I had to work the next morning.
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To link to this blog (LaurelTreeGal) use [blog LaurelTreeGal] in your messages.
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