Lesbian Singles

It's true that not all widows consider themselves single, and certainly lesbian widows are no exception. I've read posts on widow bulletin board or websites that say (in essence) “I am not single. I am partnered with someone who is no longer alive.” I am a widow myself (two times as a matter of fact) and I understand this point of view, but it seems like too much pressure for me. How can I be in a relationship with someone who I can't see, hear, taste, or smell? That's like the worst long distance relationship in the world. And even people who do consider themselves “still partnered” have some of the difficulties (and I suppose) joys that come with being seen as a single. You can't take your dead partner to a wedding with you, is what I'm saying.At any rate, In Lesbian Widows: Invisible Grief, Vicky Whipple weaves together direct quotes from interviews she did with lesbian widows over a short period of time. I'm pleased and happy this book exists, and that Harrington Press saw fit to publish it. It was helpful to read some of the stories and it was helpful to have Whipple weave together the threads and commonalities. The book is not a series of stories, but arranged thematically. It's definitely more of an academic comment on lesbian widowhood than anything resembling a memoir anthology. It is worth reading for anyone who has lost a partner or loves someone who has. One caution: a large percentage of the women Whipple spoke with reported being closeted and not out to their families about their relationships. Considering the book was published in 2008 and many of the stories included did come from younger people, it's not clear why this is but it clearly influences their experiences of discrimination and ant their internal experiences as well.

Like most single people I hate Valentine's Day.

Although come to think of it, I think most people in relationships hate Valentine's Day as well, since it seems like it offers up so much obligation with so little hope of any kind of return. Only Hallmark executives like Valentine's Day I bet, and even amoungst those, I bet it's only the folks with stock options who really want to see the tradition continue.Anyway, not that -ahem-bitter or anything, but last Valentine's Day my nerdy girlfriend and I held a special event called Nerd Love, which we hoped would be used to introduce our nerdy friends to one another so they could hook up and find their own special someone. She had been diagnosed with cancer at that time, but seemed like she would be totally cured, and so we held the event almost as a gratitude gift. We felt so lucky to have found each other, we wanted the people we loved to find their own “special someone” to love too. Or maybe several special someones. But I digress.

Anyway, five months later my girlfriend was dead from fatal pulmonary side effect of the chemo she was given to cure her cancer. So much for gratitude. So I'm pretty disgruntled this Valentine's Day. Here's my plan to keep myself sane, I'm sharing here in case the tips help you.

Tip number one: No teevee watching. None. Well, that's not true. I like teevee a lot, to be honest. But from February 1 until February 14 I only watch on demand and I mute at the commercials. Every sitcom has a Valentine's Day themed episode, even the most un-romantic ones. And the commercials are always trying to sell you jewelry for your special someone.

Tip number two: Either avoid going out in public entirely on Valentine's Day or go out and stay out way past the major getting off work time. The reason for this is that it's especially depressing to watch people scurrying home after work with their flowers in hand. My plan is to spend 13 bucks going to a movie at a mutiplex and sneak into all the different theaters afterward. I'll see one entire movie and lots and bits of pieces of other movies and then I'll go home when the movie theater closes for the night, when all the smooching hoards have made their way home.

When I first started mostly dating femmes, sometime after I figured out I'm butch (my love of men's underwear at age seven should have been a clue, but I guess I'm a slow learner) I had an amazing weekend with a lover who was a burlesque dancer. I was covered with glitter from head to toe in places you couldn't even imagine glitter could go. After this fabulous, fabulous femme-intensive weekend I found that I'd learned some new things.For example, I learned the names of different parts of clothing (mostly extremely complicated lingerie)   and I also learned  how to hang them up. Did you know you can hang a bra that goes to an outfit over the hanger of the outfit by putting the hole where you put your arm through over the curly part of the hanger? I know, sounds almost impossible, but it's quite true.

Even more importantly, did you know (listen carefully, non-femme identified women, because you may not believe this) that some femmes match their bra to their underwear? Like, for example, red underwear with a red bra, or something even more complicated, like patterns, or a complementary pattern or even specifically contrasting materials. I swear to all that is queer and holy that this is true, I am NOT making this up.

On the other hand, If I remember to wear both socks AND shoes on the same day, I feel I'm totally styling. And if I wear a shirt with buttons AND manage to button it correctly, I feel like I deserve a prize.  My appreciation for femmes reached new heights.

It was just your regular lesbian barbecue. I was being just your regular dutiful queerboi, helping out at the grill to honor the goddess within, because women hold up half the sky, because sisters were doin' it for themselves and because sisterhood feels good.Being my serious respectful lesbian self I was very careful to keep the veggie-burgers on their own little separatist spot on the grill, away from the bloody, rapidly burning animal flesh I was also attempting to cook. I was flipping dutifully away until—without thinking-- I used the very edge of the spatula I had been using to turn the meat to pry up a corner of a vegan burger so I could assess for fire damage. My zen-like cooking state was interrupted by a bloodcurdling scream. My first thought was that my shorts were on fire and or that we were about to be attacked by a herd of roving Tasmanian three toed wildebeest that are so common in West Philadelphia this time of year.

After a long moment I ascertained that I was neither on fire not being attacked by any variety of wildebeest. It was then that I realized what I had done. Alas, it was too late. A vegetarian sister had been so horrified by my admittedly careless treatment of the animal flesh versus non animal flesh diving line that she had to be left away and immediately enrolled in a womb-like support group for womyn recovering from post traumatic meat disorder. The mood of the barbecue became somber all around.

I didn't dispute that my screaming vegetarian sister had every right to object to my contaminating act. I respect that some folks have moral, religious, political and philosophical reasons to abstain from meat and using animal products.

However I'm not convinced that creaming in someone's ear while they are tending a somewhat open fire is actually a safe (never mind polite) practice. I'm not trying to silence anyone, merely suggesting that the handy volume control we all possess for our voices be judiciously used in this type of case.

Carnivores I'm beginning to think are the barebackers of the lesbian world with parallel hassles, rationalizations and excuses.

Yeah I know eating animals is risky but I'm so tired of being careful.
Veggie burgers just don't feel the same.
Tofu dogs taste like plastic.
Animals have to die sometime anyway.
Why do you think they spent all that money developed anti-cholesterol drugs?

It's not that I'm proud that I eat the flesh of defenseless animals but I do get annoyed with vegetarian rhetoric and antics. Yeah, I admit that being a carnivore isn't the best thing for the earth or great for my health and it's definitely not awesome for the animals.

I guess somewhere deep inside (deeper than my stomach) I think vegetarians are right.

This annoys me a great deal.

So I guess I'll become a vegetarian.

Maybe right after I finish this veal.