Sexuality Happens

I am horrible at flirting, when I actually like someone.

If it’s someone in whom I have no interest, like this guy hitting on me last week, I’m fine. I can give witty comebacks, bring up things of interest, play coy, etc.

But if I think I might have the possibility of eventually liking someone? Oh boy. I’m a mess. A crazy mess. We’ve seen this, my inability to flirt with people at the queer parties in Philly. I was lucky with C — she was a friend of a friend, so I saw her around, and also, I knew I was leaving, so if I made a complete ass of myself, nothing to lose. Same way at Submit in NYC (the queer sex party) after K and I were done playing. I stood up in the room full of people, said “ok, we’ve got 30 minutes left…any takers?” I couldn’t have done that at the beginning, because I was going to be around them for a few hours (and plus, K was about to put needles in my skin, and his hand inside me, negating that need to do so).

I was sitting at the DMV the other day (it took almost 3 hours for me to get a piece of paper saying I was going to be getting my real license in the mail in the next 30 days), bored out of my mind, as I had forgotten to bring in a book. Tired of going through my purse, looking for something of interest (other than the nipple clamps and lube), I looked up. Walking towards me was this incredibly cute person. Wearing a shirt that said “it must be my boyish charms.” Swaggering, I guess would be a better term. And then sat down in the chair in front of me, headphones in ears. I was looking at the back of their head for a good few minutes, when the seat next to them opened up. I still had about 40 numbers to go, so I decided to just bite the damn bullet, gathered up my purse, and hopped up a row. I sat there for a minute or two, trying to decide if I had enough ovaries to actually say something, now that I’d taken the huge step of putting myself slightly in their line of vision. Then I saw the tattoos.

“Nice tattoos — can I ask where you got them done?”

Boom. Discussion started. Go me.

I then introduced myself, and she introduced herself. Did I mention she was really cute? Because she was. And oh, is a bass player for a local band (not a drummer, thank god. I might have jumped her right there in the crowded DMV).

Of course, it some how turned to sex. With me, it kind of always does. And the fact that no one out here understands why I identify as queer, rather than lesbian. And that there is in fact feminist and/or ethical porn. And hot queer porn…and I smoothly (by smoothly, I mean not at all) gave her a 30 minutes of free porn card for HMFH. We kept talking. She was very interesting and intelligent, and regardless of the fact I found her really quite cute, I think she’d be a really fun person to hang out with.

I saw my number approaching. Sneakily, I slid a card of mine out of my card holder. We kept talking. My number came up, and I handed it to her. “Call me sometime, we should hang out.”

I saw her once or twice before I left (it was a huge process). And I looked up her band. I actually kind of really like that style of music…similar in sorts to my friend’s band from college that I loved. And I added her on myspace.

Now, she might see my request, and think I’m a nut job/ugly/sex pervert/weird/etc, and deny it. Or she might accept it, but already be in a relationship, not find me attractive (but hopefully good friend material), think of me as a weird groupie or something, or whatever.

Doesn’t matter. I made a step. I flirted with someone, knowing that I might possibly at some point see them, that there might possibly at some point be the possibility of hanging out, or even a date, and I made that move. I sat next to her, I started up conversation, I gave her my number.

For me, that’s pretty big stuff. We’ll see if anything happens from here. At the very least, I’d like to have a cool, bass playing friend in the area. At best, well, who knows. But at least I’m learning and growing, and not playing the damsel in distress (or inviting people into my room to see my sex toy trunk, which they then totally associate as work related, and don’t take as a come-on at all. Le sigh.), waiting for someone to come flirt with me.

3 points for me!

-Essin’ Em

Edit: She accepted my request. And called me. And we’re going to eat delicious food this week. Whatever happens, at least I know I wasn’t a complete and total idiot…or that maybe she likes complete and total idiots…