Good Vibrations Magazine

After living in San Francisco for seven years, I’ve developed an attitude of been there, done that when it comes to sex, drugs, and fucking. I’ve been the daddy, the uncle, the plumber, the little brother, the older brother, and the priest — you get the picture. But now I’m starting to get the picture as well.

The overwhelming theme in my sexual adventures has been role-playing as a guy. I mean it makes sense, right? I’m a butch dyke who dates high femmes, and who has a huge history of sexual abuse shit. It makes sense that I would turn out to be the daddy. But I gotta tell ya, I’m bored. There was a time when role-playing saved my sexual being; it made me feel hot and in control. Lovers are critics and the reviews worked in my favor. I’ve never really had a hard time laying out a story. I’m a poet, a performer, a dreamer, an actor, a big fuckin’ daddy.

To say I’m bored with it isn’t really giving you the whole story. Saying I’m bored is a way to sound OK about where I’ve been recently — I’m not really. It’s to say that I’m looking for the next role. I’m not really. What I am is this: I’m fuckin’ tired of being everyone but ME in bed. But the thing is, I’m not sure I remember what it’s like to be me — to be a girl. That’s what I am, a girl. And contrary to San Francisco’s popular belief, there are still butch girls out here who want to be girls. So then why does it seem so impossible to be one in bed? I feel like I need to go back to Lesbian 101, to figure out how to be a womyn-lovin’-womin again. It almost feels like the most radical thing I can do at this point in my life — and the queerest.

I do remember a time when it didn’t feel strange to be naked with another girl; in fact I couldn’t really keep my clothes on. I have fond memories of that time in my life. Oh, those first few seconds of being a lesbian, before I moved to sunny, I’m-so-fucking-OK California and became a very happy leather wearin’, play party goin’, big butch dyke — some of “the best days of my life,” to quote the Bryan Adams song.

I’m not a shrink, but I do have a “nice lady” who, thank God, I see on a weekly basis when I can afford it. I spend a large amount of my time in the nice lady’s office talking about being sexually lost. I no longer feel empowered by identifying male in bed; in fact, it feels like the most oppressive, mind fucking, and saddest thing I can do to myself at this point. Yet, I’m having such a hard time coming out of it.

Lucky for me, I have a hot, high femme, porn star girlfriend who is up for the change — that is, me tryin’ to be a girl in the sack. In fact, she is more than willing to fuck me like the girl I am. It would be easier for me to say that the roles we play are solely for her, than to say it’s the only way I know to have sex right now. It would be easier for me to think that if these roles aren’t working for me right now and that’s all she wants from me anyway, then it must be time to move on, right? Wrong. It’s not the case. She’s willing to stick around.

The sexual abuse shit that I thought was dead and gone when I took my sex back 10 years ago and became a dyke is more present now than ever. When I started to break down my favorite roles in the sack, I realized that they’re not working for me anymore. These are the roles that I don’t have a hard time pulling off — the ones that make me, and my girl, come in the hardest, fastest, and finest way. They’re always attached to my huge cock and my little girl who wants it, but shouldn’t be doing it. They’re always there to say, “You’re little and you want your big fucking daddy to put a pillow over your face (conveniently avoiding eye contact) and fuck you hard. Yeah!” Hell, I’m getting a hard-on just writing about it.

But I’ve been there; I’ve done that. I feel like I could stay stuck there forever with my eternally hard dick, replaying the past and tweaking the future so I’m forever on top and all-powerful. Oh, the joy of taking something back with your consenting, willing, and hot girlfriend. The thing is, I’m not in my body, and I don’t know what that feels like anymore. It seems like a radical idea to be just that, in my body, eye contact and all. I feel like I’m stuck in the ’80s, with my tired roles of the intruder, playing my Cure tapes over and over, just waiting for the next tour announcement that’s never going to happen. If I truly wanted to be a guy, I could do it. I live in a community that would support me in that decision, I live in a time where I could find the recourses I need to help me though the really rough process. If I felt like that’s where I needed and wanted to be, I could find a way.

What I’m going for here is droppin’ the roles, droppin’ the pillows, droppin’ the pants (mine that is), and figuring out how to be a girl, feeling fucking hot, and trying something that’s become new to me again. Just so I can say that I’ve been there, that I’ve done that. And really believe it.