Doncha Wanna Dance

I'm currently packing for my trip to Florida (we leave the house sometime around 5 am to get to the airport for a flight at around 8 am, should be to Florida/DISNEY somewhere around noon if all goes to plan), and by packing I mean watching my clothes lie motionless all around me. At least they're a little organized.

I decided not to go to work this morning, because I woke up at quarter to 6, coughed up a lung, took a shower, coughed up the other lung, and passed out on my bed again. My mom, the saint that she is, called my boss and told her that she "won't let me go in to work." I love her dearly.

We've been getting into little skirmishes lately, maybe it's because I've been home from school for about 3 weeks now and the magic has finally worn off. Maybe it's because we're both hormonal women. Maybe it's just everything catching up with us. I'm not sure what it is, and neither is she, but we'll work it out regardless of the cause of our issues. She thinks I'm awesome and I think she's the bees knees, so we'll be fine.

So with my free day today I:

• went to the doctor. She told me I don't have strep (after giving me a throat culture, bleh) and it's probably just allergies (waitta make me feel like a hypochondriac)
• went to Target and got some new clothes for the trip, along with burt's bees lip gloss (A MUST) and goldfish crackers
• started packing, have since stopped packing, but continue to think about packing
• picked out some wine for the trip (we likes us some wine)
• played with the dawg and the cat (they have no idea I'm leaving for a week, but when they realize it they will be migh-tee pissed)

That's basically my life in a nut shell, and I feel so much more productive than had I gone to work today. Soo soo much more.

I also rediscovered this gem of music nostalgia.

And have since not stopped dancing around in my new clothes, with my dog, being generally awesome.

Oh man I just saw a commercial for Lake Compounce (in CT) and it totally reminded me of my 10th birthday (I think it was my tenth... best ask the madre later). We piled a whole bunch of kids into our car and my sister's car (my sister is 17 years older than me, married when I was 7, and now has two kids who are the LIGHT of my life, literally) and drove down to Lake Compounce, which if you don't know is an "amusement park." We had a great day of riding the water rides and being too short for the roller coasters and things like that (I hate rollercoasters anyway) UNTIL we decided to ride the swings. Me about about, oh 10 I would say, of my friends all on the swings, the ones that spins around and around and go so high you can see for miles. Used to be my favorite ride. On this particular ride I sat behind a group of boys. I was on the outside swing, my feet all dangling in the air, the wind all rushing through my unkempt red hair, the sounds of laughter and happiness all echoing in my ears. Then the ride began its descent, and just as my feet touched the ground, the boy in front of me THREW UP allll over the ground. The ride slowed down so much that the barf went right under him and right in front of ME! Best. Birthday. Ever.

Since then I've never really experienced much joy on the swings, except for the time my friends and I were at Hershey Park (PA) and we saw a woman in the middle of hitting her son get hit in the head with a shoe that sailed off the foot of a passenger on the swings. That'll learn her to hit her kid.

That reminds me. I turn nineteen next Thursday. Nine years since the barf incident. WOOP WOOP!

I Spy With My Little Eye

You know you're having a fantastic day when all you keep saying to yourself (in your head of course... because only crazy people TALK to themselves... geesh) is "I can't wait to blog about this." That's a bit o' sarcasm for ya, not because I don't love blogging about this that and the other thing, cause I really do, but because my day SUCKED and all I kept saying in my wee, exhausted brain was "soon we will be near a computer... then we will have revenge..."

If I could count on hands how many times I was on the verge of tears today, I would probably need four or five sets of hands. I'd only need one hand to count the number of times I actually did cry. That's a big deal for me, because I do not cry about little things. I remember each time in my life where I actually broke down and sobbed, and at this point I believe the count is five. Sure I've cried, a tear dribbles down my cheek.

Like the time when my friend had to physically remove me from my dorm building and take me for a walk while I explained to him, in the toughest way possible of course, that I needed to come out of the closet and that's why I was having a meltdown. Someone was doing a survey for a sociology class and one of the questions on the survey was "Would you consider yourself: Heterosexual, Homosexual, Bisexual, Unsure." I knew the person giving out the survey so I immediately checked off hetero. Right after I smilingly handed back the survey I started hitting walls, prompting my very good friend to bring me outside. We went for a walk around campus, it must have been 11 or 12 at night, not something terribly unusual for us. He asked me what was wrong and I got all sniffly and he said "Are you crying?" and I said "No!" and he said "Dude you're crying... weird." When I explained to him the situation he was understanding (I had told him several months prior) and told me to just get it over with. And here I am.

Back to the present, though. I went in to work at 10 am, ready to get my hands dirty and make some monehhh. My manager told me to stay on until 6... 6 pm... as in 6 at night, as in 1 hour before 7, 4 before 10, 13 before I would soon find out that I was required to go BACK into work. It was just me and the assistant manager working all day, me driving her COMPLETELY insane because today was literally my second day on the job and I'm still learning. I don't handle hostility very well at all. If someone yells at me, I shut down and the job won't get done. For example, if someone told me to rewrite a paper cause it was completely incorrect, I would stare blankly into space until they provided constructive criticism or until my brain rewired the motherboard and I was able to blink again.

The woman I was working with soon caught on to the fact that it really was my second day, I really never have worked in fast food before, my only previous job was with small children, and that I am sensitive and quiet. I'll do whatever you want me to do, just please first tell me how to do it in a constructive and positive way. By the end of the day we were getting along fine, but for a while I was afraid she was going to beat me, and I could tell she was afraid she was going to make me cry. I'm sure it's odd for people who see me to find out that yes, I really do have a heart and yes, I do very often wear it on my sleeve (on the inside of the sleeve, apparently).

At one point I had to go out and scrub the outside of the drive thru because someone clearly ran over a ketchup packet. As I was standing there, bucket of suds in hand, visor tipped upward and slightly to the right, baggy kahki pants smeared with various condiments and rouge beverage spills I watched as the cars drove past, one by one, each stopping at the window where my coworker took their orders. I had to wait until I had a good opened so I could get in and scrub. Then... oh then... and my heart skips a beat here... I saw her. She was in a white pick up truck, with silver trim, I'm thinking it was a Ford. She had cute brown hair cut dykishly short. It's how I knew, besides the fact that she drove a pickup truck, and besides the fact that she could tell I was a fellow dyke. Why else would she give me the stare down for the whole 2:00 that she was in the drive thru? I grinned and blushed a little and looked down at my feet and then back up at her. She smiled and continued staring at me (how awkward, I know, but I was very flattered) and I walked inside to go help my coworker do orders. I made sure she got a good look at my swagger as I walked in. Oh yeah, I swagger all right. I kept chuckling to myself, thinking "I spy with my little eye something... gay." Make your own entertainment. I sure hope mizz pick up truck comes back for another iced coffee sometime soon, I'll be sure to put a little extra sugar in her order.

That reminds me of the time, earlier this semester, that my roommate and I got up early on a Sunday morning to go out for coffees. We had been to this particular dunkin donuts (happens to be in Burlington, MA) a few weeks previously when we went to see a movie out there. There are probably about 30 dunkin donuts between our school and Burlington, but we had to go back there. There was this girl there, so cute, so nice, greatest smile ever, who was really nice to us and yeah, I had to hotts for her (welcome to my life), and my roommate, in her never ending quest to get me laid, decided that I should pursue her. So we went on this particular Sunday, hoping that she was working. And lo!! She was working.

I held the door for an older gentlemen who, upon entering the store, said "I knew a nice young Irish girl would hold the door for me!" I smiled, and he looked at my roommate and said "Two Irish sisters!" (because she does look Irish, and we could probably pass for sisters if you didn't look too hard) to which my roommate said "No no no, we're not sisters and I'm not Irish," and sh proceeded to give him the run down of her ancestry. He was clearly very impressed with our social skills, because he offered to buy our breakfasts. My roomate was quick to ask for a medium iced coffee, I got a small (after much protest). He then asked that I order my breakfast and I absolutely refused, so he went on his merry way, and we were ecstatic to have made a new friend. I order my toasted cinnamin raisin bagel with cream cheese on the side and had a seat by the window the consume said bagel, after making oogly eyes at the girl behind the counter who took my order. My roommate was sitting across from me, staring at me, with her head resting on both of her hands in loose fists. "What?" I said, a little nervous that she was going to turn on the laser beams in her eyes or something. And then it hit me. The girl behind the counter didn't ask for any money!! I said this outload, quietly, to my roommate, who simply nodded and said "I was waiting for you to realize it." Oh I was SOOO happy. It literally was one of the best days of my life. The girl came out from behind the counter and talked to us for a while, told us her hours, and asked us to come back and visit her again soon. I couldn't even wait to visit her. She became known as "muffin lady" to all my friends who heard this legendary story. Unfortunately, I haven't seen muffin lady since that day, after several attempts to catch her on the hours she told us to visit. Someday I'll find her, and whisk her away, and we can eat bagels and drink iced coffees forever and ever.

So that was my day (and a recap of several days in the not too distant past). I have to be in to work at 7 am tomorrow morning (soooooooo painful for me...) but I am leaving at noon and then packing and then going to DISNEY WORLD bright and early Saturday morning, where I'm sure I'll fall in love with more women (I fall in love everywhere I go, I think of it as a gift more than a curse) take some pictures with some lifesized mice, see some fireworks, drink a lot with my mom and try to forget about how much I really would rather be spending my summer sleeping, basketballin, swimming and being a general hoodlum. That's it for me, peace out girlscouts!!

P to the S: If you read my blog I would absolutely LOVE it if you would comment, or subscribe or something of that nature. I'm super new to blogging but I love it and I'd love feedback :-D Thanks in advance!!

Complicated

So apparently today is "blogging for LGBT families day." I guess all I have to say about that topic is that, as a human being, I value my rights. As someone with empathy, I value the rights of others. As a lesbian, I value the rights and the struggle of the LGBT community. As an eighteen year old girl, who wants nothing to do with having a family, I can't really say I have too much to say about this particular issue. Under the larger umbrella of LGBT rights, yes, this is a very important issue and needs to be addressed. People should be allowed to marry whomever they choose to be their lifetime companion. Screw the people who say that if we allowed gays to marry, then anything could happen. Screw them, a lot, that just makes me so furious. We're not talking about marrying kids or animals here, you bunch of crazies! We're talking about marrying the PERSON WHOM WE LOVE! Marriage isn't a religious thing, people were getting married and settling down together LONG before Moses held the 10 Commandments or Jesus was laid on a cross. As long as both people sincerely love and respect each other, there is no issue. How many times have straight people gotten married out of obligation, or any reason besides love? Millions of times. It happens alllllll the time. Don't go saying gay marriage would detract from the holiness of marriage. God creates each person the way HE desires. Who are we to say that God created something imperfectly. Sounds like blasphemy to me...

Personally though, I can't see myself getting married or having children. Well, maybe I can see myself having a child, but not getting married. I like playing the field too much, having my cake and eating it too, so to speak. I'm very bad at being a one woman kinda woman. Trust me, being in a relationship is awesome, it's such a great feeling, to know there is someone out there who loves you and wants only you. That's exactly the reason why I don't like being in a relationship though, because it's not fair to the girl I'm with. I will love her and respect her, but I won't want only her. I admit I have wandering eyes and a wandering heart. But that's just me, and maybe it's because I'm young. Maybe I just haven't met the right girl.

But enough about my life. People should be allowed to marry whoever they want. And if you can open your home to a child, all the better. There are so many kids out there who could use a loving home. Gay parents are as capeable of raising a child as straight parents, and every parent/couple is different. If you're an adoption agency, go to the house and check it out, make sure they're normal. Normal means they love each other, are prepared to love another human being, are gainfully employed, have a future, and aren't completely insane. If anything, extreme conservatives shouldn't be allowed to adopt or even have children. They should be "fixed."

But I'm not one to perpetuate stereotypes or suggest that any group of people be treated any differently than any other group of people. Everyone should be treated equally, regardless of how completely ridiculous they are. We tolerate you, you ridiculous conservative asses. It's your turn to do some toleratin'. Oh, and when you're toleratin', take the corn cob pipe out of your mouth, stop beating your wife and stop having anonymous homosexual sex in airport bathrooms. Kthx.

TRUE COLORS

I do not even know where to begin with how FABULOUS the True Colors concert was. Maybe it was the weekend, getting away from home and restrictions and being able to be myself with a great friend of mine. Maybe it was being in Boston, far away from the smallness of CT. Maybe it was the cute outfit Regina Spektor wore. Who's to say? Maybe we'll never know. (Her cute outfit certainly had something to do with the awesomeness of everything).

Well, we got very lost trying to find our way there. Very lost indeed. But we were soon found by my gps (if it said "recalculating" or "lost satillite reception" one more time I would have thrown it into traffic). The show was at the T.D. Bank North Center out by Logan, a very nice venue if I do say so. I was impressed. The views were very good from basically anywhere in the theatre, even in the back where all the smokers and too-drunk-to-stumble-back-to-their-seats people congregated.

The opening act was a woman named Kat Teluga (spelt phonetically) and she was good. She was full of energy and excitement, everything an opening act should be. There was definite hesitation with the crowd to get too into her performance, for whatever reason. She did two covers of some Jennifer Lopez (I think...) whilst bouncing around the stage in a poofy little blue number.

Next were The Cliks, a phenomenal band from Canada. I very much admire their lead singer (actually all of the members of the band) Lucas for his determination. He has a rockin voice too. Very Janis Joplin-esqu, if that makes any sense. I recommend buying their new album Snakehouse, it's definetly worth it.

Next was... and my heart flutters a little (a lot)... REGINA SPEKTOR. Oh my gosh it was craziness. She had an AMAZING red dress on that matched her hair and her makeup perfectly. She is so gorgeous, such a marvelous singer and musician. Apres Moi may be my favourite of her songs, but it's a tough call. Actually, on second thought, Better is definetly my favourite. It's just so... I don't even know how to describe it. She has a way of being upbeat and funny about the most sullen, borderline morbid (if not completely morbid) things. It's really an art in and of itself.

Carson Kressley hosted the show, and he did a great job. I was telling the friend that I went with that Carson definetly made fun of lesbians A LOT, and as amusing as it was it teetered on annoying. I was quick to say, though, that making fun of lesbians is probably my favorite thing to do in the entire world. If you can't make fun of yourself, who can you make fun of?

Rosie came out at intermission (no pun intended). She was looking amazing!! She lost so much weight, I'm very proud of her. Rosie is one my personal heroes. I ADORE a League of Their Own (what self respecting, softball playing, woman-loving lesbian doesn't adore that movie? I want a list!) and think Rosie is one of the funniest women in the entertainment industry, the fact that she is an out lesbian and a very outspoken woman only add to how much I love her. I cried when she was talking about her mother and their relationship and how her mother died when she was barely 11. At the end of her wee interlude she said "and if you happen to see an old Irish lady walking around, smiling, send her backstage and tell her I've been waiting for it." I completely lost my shit when she said that. Just thinking about it now makes me get all misty.

The B-52's were next. In the mean time I putzed around, enjoyed Boston and the rowdiness of hundreds of 20/30/40/50something homos. I swear if I saw one more man stick his hands down another man's pants I was gonna drag him home to his mother by his ear. The lesbians were CRAZY. I know we're crazy but really ladies, REALLY?! It's all in good fun, I know, but spill your beer on me one more time and I'll make you go pay 3 bucks for one for me. I'd much rather be drinking a beer than wearing one. I loved it when my friend thought some guy was cute and soon discovered that that "guy" was in fact a girl. We also noticed how every single lesbian/lesbian couple knew every single other lesbian/lesbian couple. It was like a big family reunion. Clearly we were not part of the immediate family, kind of the new kids on the block so to speak.

Oh lesbians, I love you all so much. The gay men have a special place in my heart too. Well, I'll revise that statement. Everyone has a special place in my heart, except haters. They can just go to... somewhere toasty where they will be poked with pitch forks. Nah, I'm not exactly sure what I think happens to people in the afterlife; either people who have led upright, loving lives or people who have spouted hate. It's all for God to decide.

The B-52's were very good. I felt like most of the people in the audience were far more familiar with them that I could ever dream to be. I know Love Shack, and some lyrics to some of their other songs. Otherwise I'm clueless. They were very good, very good at getting the crowd involved.

When Cyndi came on, all hell broke loose. Everyone was singing and dancing and screaming and jumping around (myself included). I'm not going to lie... I did know pretty much every word to every one of her songs, and I let it be known by singing (erm.... screaming) said words the entire time, much to the dismay of the rather intoxicated people in front of me. OH WELL! I LOVE Cyndi, she is SUCH a performer. I've seen Elton John and Celine Dion in concert (so sad that Celine's Vegas show is over...), and Cyndi is definetly right up there with them in terms of the performance she puts on.

They ended the concert by having all the performers come back on stage (including Regina Spektor... by now the people in front of me were horrified by my behaviour and gave me dirty looks, however I continued to scream at the top of my lungs "REGINA I WANT YOUR BABIES!!" and my personal favourite, for anyone who was unsure of my sanity "REGINA WHY WON'T YOU RETURN MY CALLS!!" not that I have ever called her... cause I haven't, but I love creeping people out) for the grand finale. Rosie and Carson and Regina and the B-52's and the Cliks and everybody were all up there, with the great Cyndi, to sing the final song. In the spirit of the concert, and the sum up the message of the concert, they sang "True Colors." Oh how I loved that song. It speaks for all of us, in any given moment of our lives. When we're down and out, we just need a friend or a kind word, or a line in a song or an inch of hope to pull us back up and out of the despair. Well not to worry, I see your true colors, and I know mine, and I'm damn proud. Whether you're straight, gay, bi, trans, whatever you are: BE PROUD OF WHO YOU ARE!!!!!!!! And respect everyone else for who they are. Peace and Love!

P to the S: the only thing that would have made this night even better would have been Rosie singing the song from A League of Their Own (We're the members of the all American league, we come from cities near and far, we've got Canadians, Irish ones and Swedes we're all for one we're one for all we're all American), or if she had whipped Madonna out of her back pocket or something. Ugh... I really was a gay man born in a Lesbians body, I'm convinced (well besides the fact that I have 0 fashion sense).

P to the SS: I GOT THE JOB!!!!

P to the SSS: I'm going to Disney for the last weekend of Gay Days!!!!!!

If I had a Hammer

There are some things in life that simply do not make sense. For example, hate, it just doesn't make any sense. If you go along with the mentality that God (yes I believe that there is a God, yes I am a Christian, yes I disagree with all of the radical Christian ideologies) created everything, why would God create hate? The fundamentalists would tell you that God didn't create Gays, or Jews, or Muslims, or Mexicans, or any group that doesn't fit into their view of the perfect Christian world. I believe that God created everything equally, every flower, every baby, every thought. It is as difficult for me to rationalise hate as it is for the fundamentalists to rationalise alternative viewpoints.

I had a discussion with a friend of mine the other night about hate. My opinion is that hate is the manifestation of misplaced fear. The Communists feared a popular uprising against the party, so they propogated hate of capitalism. The Nazis feared everyone and everything that went against what they stood for, so the spread the hate of everyone who wasn't a blonde haired, blue eyed, Protestant of Nordic ancestry. George Bush and his cronies feared being caught in a web of lies they invented when they knew they couldn't protect the people to the uptmost, so they propogated hate of muslims, not just muslim extremeists, but anyone from the middle east. It's always someone else's fault. Why can't we, as a society, as a culture, as a human race admit that we have been led astray, that we are mistook, and it is all our fault. But we will do everything in our power to fix it.

That's the clincher, we won't do everything in our power to fix it because, well, we're lazy. It's so much easier to blame someone else and have them have to pick up the pieces.
Uncertainty breeds fear, and fear breeds hate. The fact of the matter is, uncertainty is an integral part of life. Nothing is certain. You may go to take a shower today, lather your hair, drop some suds, and slip and fall and never get back up. Or it may be the most uneventful shower of your life. God only knows.

So stop breeding hate, stop caring about uncertainty, more importantly stop fearing it. There are two things which are certain in life, and no they are not "death and taxes." Life, in any capacity and eventual sunshine are the only certain things in life. Life and sunshine, though fleeting, will happen.

http://youtube.com/watch?v=hiMve1ggjnI&feature=related

The economy, the coming weekends, et cetera

I'm eighteen years old, almost nineteen, and I'm actually afraid for our country (and my future). I went for a job interview today at a coffee chain that will remain nameless, and there must have been 20+ other applicants, all from various walks of life. One man was older, clearly mentally challenged (maybe borderline unemployable as a result). One women explained that she lived in a motel nearby so getting to work would be no issue. One girl was going to school in Rhode Island, home for summer vacation (very similarly to me). One man needed a job in the morning on the way to his afternoon/evening job to add to his already meager wages. It's a sad day when all of these people have to put themselves out and basically beg for employment. It was clear that most of the people there NEEDED the job, had reached the end of their rope and had nowhere else to turn. It's when people become desparate that something is wrong, and something must be done.

Gas cannot be $4.15 a gallon (maybe it's a cent or two less at this point). I paid $50 to put 12ish gallons in my car today, my car that needs to get my friend and I to Boston and back this weekend (Boston is about 2 hours from where I live, about 1/4 of a tank of gas both ways). It is unbelieveable, and the prices just get passed along to the consumer. It's enough to make ya want to stay home, lock your doors, and pretend the world isn't going on around you.

I hope I get the job, in any event. More then that I hope all the rest of the applicants get the job. The only way to survive in a capitalist economy is to create capital and keep it circulating. Don't hide your money under your bed, that won't help you. And don't send it off to Swiss Banks where it will be safe. It needs to be spent, it needs to circulate, or else people become desparate. Keep looking out for the little guy, because some day you may find yourself feeling small and needing someone to look out for you.

So I'm going to True Colors in Boston this weekend, so excited!!! P Town last weekend, True Colors this coming weekend, and Pride Week in Disney World the following weekend. I don't even know where to begin with my elation, I'm having a wonderful summer, hope the rest of the world is too.

Of course I'm going to have a lot to say about True Colors. I'll try to sneak a camera in, but no promises.

P Town!!

Alright, oh my gosh I can barely contain my excitement, wooo gotta chill out.

P Town... it's just... it's so amazing... I don't even have the appropriate word to describe it. Fabulous comes close, but it is truly and sincerely AWESOME. I've had lots of really good days in my life:

Like the time my mother rented a bounce around for me and my friends and we went to town.

Or the time my lacrosse team and I went to the gay bar and got verbally assaulted (in jest of course) by drag queens.

Or the time I went to River Rat in Athol, MA (GOOO!!!! it's SOOO much fun!!).

But honestly, none of that compares to the day I spent in Provincetown with my mother and our friend yesterday.

We woke up between 8-9, were on the road by 9:30. The car ride out to the Cape is between 4-5 hours, and it being a holiday weekend traffic vacillated from sparse to no wiggle room at all. We talked in the car for a good long time, took lots of pictures, made lots of stops. I've only ever been to the Cape really (and I consider the beach to be the Cape, since I go to Nantucket fairly often, but I don't consider that 'The Cape') two or three times. One of those times I was incredibly drunk and passed out in the middle of a street in a residential neighborhood. Good times, but that's a story for another lifetime.

We talked a lot about gay marriage, and how my mother is basically indifferent. She believes in equality but she wouldn't stick her neck out for it, which I find to be without tact but that's just me. Our poor friend is very new to this country and, as far as he knows, has never seen a gay person before. What a shock he had.

We went to the beach in P Town, paid $15 for parked but it was sooo worth it. The water is FREEZING this time of year, but I went in anyway cause I'm a rebel, of course. There were girls in bikinis playing rugby in the sand (a dream come true, I nearly cried with joy) and two mothers with their kids playing in the sand and talking to other parents. The bathrooms were atrocious, naturally.

We went into town after discovering that we really were very hungry. I wish I could remember the name of the restaurant where we ate, but the people were SO friendly. They love their customers, and their customers love them in return. I had fish and chips, which were not very good, but the service made the meal. Our friend kept poking me saying "Hey... is he?" or "Is she..." causing me to burst into a fit of laughter without fail every single time.

The HRC store is amazing, go there. It was simply amazing to me to see so many happy couples walking around, with children or with each other, hand in hand, arm in arm, laughing, smiling, enjoying each others company. To me it really is the most perfect place in the world, where anyone can be themselves.

Unfortunately, because I'm not out to my mother, I couldn't chase after the hot young things walking around in bikinis or kiss the ground every time I saw a rainbow flag waving proudly (not that I would have... but I certainly wanted to).

When we piled into the car to head back home when the sun was just setting over the sand dunes everything felt so right with the world. I wanted every single person there to know that I love them with all my heart, for who they are, for what they are, because they are being themselves. I wanted to stay there forever and bask in its awesomeness, but daytrips, much like vacations or Christmas or high school, must come to an end.

As we were pulling away, my mother touched my shoulder and said "I think you and I were the only two straight women there." A little piece of me died, but hey, if she wants to think I'm straight let her. I'm not hiding it, I wear it proudly, and I haven't dated a boy in four years. Even when I did date boys, it was fairly obvious to everyone that I never really liked them very much romantically. Give me a basketball-playing boy or a swimming boy any day, someone to have fun with or to open up a beer with and talk about women, but other than that boys are pretty useless.

Some part of her must know, and if it doesn't then it's her problem for being blind. Though I've never explicitly told her (and I don't feel I should HAVE to tell anyone), I'm pretty gay. I would describe myself as your almost-stereotypical dyke (in that I love and can very often be found wearing polos and board shorts/long plaid shorts, my hair is never not in a pony tail, I don't let people hold the door for me, I hang out in gay bars, oh and I DATE WOMEN). Basically I fit right in at P Town, except for the stars in my eyes when I walked down the street.

Anyhow, Provincetown is AMAZING. Go. Go with your partner, your kids, your mom, your grandma, your dog, your great aunt Sally, your best friend (ALL your best friends!). I definetly recommend it. Provincetown, you have this dyke's seal of approval!