Bad Girl / Good Sex — Good Girl / Bad Sex?

June 17, 2008 - 1:46pm — Staceyann Chin

So, tell me, who should I pick? The best fuck or the best girl? And why in the Cunt’s name can’t I have both? This is the question that has me reeling from the last interaction I had with love and my libido.

Picture this — cool night — the middle of winter. Wine. Song. She is bad for you. Charming. Unstable. Stunning. Erratic. Smart as a whip and knows how to crack it for self-preservation. She excites you. She might want children, but not right now. Maybe never. Right now, she wants to focus on herself. She has nothing to give to anyone else. But there is room for a little dancing, a little flirting and a whole lot of reasons you should say no to the illicit fucking. But dykes are only human, and we err. So you slip your hand down her pants, shove her perfect body against your green wall and it is all an orgasmic, freewheeling, mind-blowing roll down the hill from there.

And because we must always attempt to tickle all points of entry — in other words — tell the other side of the tale, so to speak, let’s switch to the converse of that problem.
It’s a sensible hour in midtown. Spring — perhaps an early-ish dinnertime. You’re having sushi. She’s cute. Sweet. Considerate and definitely wants children. You discuss what we need to do in the 21st Century to achieve world peace. She asks about your family, what you need in a partner. She tells you she feels safe with you. That she could be intimate with you very, very soon. You both smile politely. You know she would be a good mother for the child you really, really want to have. You know you should jump on this one. She’s a good bag of beans to have cooking in your Jamaican wild rice.

But as soon as she kisses you on the side of your mouth and bids you the most delicate goodnight, you scramble for your cell phone and call the stunning, erratic, charming, unstable one.

What is it about the pretty damsel with the devil in her that makes us forget reason and rush headlong into horrors we know our therapists would never sign off on? And what is it about the boring, steady, sturdy type that makes our vaginal flowers dry up and flake to dust in our boxers? Is there anything in between? Jesus, Mary, mother of God! There must be a dyke Goddess in heaven that can rig a woman who straddles the border between Hell and Nirvana. Why am I always either falling asleep from boredom, or tearing out my pubic hairs in frustration and desire? Is there no land in-between? Are stable lesbians prone to being mundane? Are people with a knack for cunnilingus also candidates for the mental asylum? Something has got to give here, eh? I really am getting too old for this madness.

Photo. wordpress.com

Maybe it is time to turn to the genetic engineers. Craft me a dyke prototype, please! But really, now, what would that look like? For me, a list of criteria is included below:

Must have irreverent and whip-sharp sense of humor. (Required)

Must be adventurous in bed. (Non-negotiable)

Must have an acute allergy to Lesbian Bed Death.

Must have a job.

Must like herself whether she is in a relationship or not.

Must also know herself.

Must be able to articulate about her needs without taking up the room required to meet some of mine.

Must love children.

Must love literature.

Must be a progressive, political creature.

And these are only some of the things on the list of things I need.

But to be honest, I look at the list of women in my past, and not all of the above have been present. And some of the qualities present have been cause for consternation. Who knows what the hell is going on inside of these complex and oppressed psyches of ours?

But phooey! It’s summer. I’m single, and the women are so naked, and I am distracted with the rules I set up last autumn. Maybe I should just wait until it gets cold again before I try to be good.

Here’s to finding that woman/girl who knows how to straddle sanity and some good old fashion hardcore sin. 




(NOT WRITTEN BY ME AT ALL. JUST AMAZED AT HOW MANY OF THE SAME ISSUES WE ALL HAVE)

Number one would have to be the birth of my sisters. Obviously they didn’t all come at the same time but the feeling I got each time was amazing. Initially when the first one came along I responded as any only child would, with a little bit of jealousy and being unsure of how to act towards her. After the shock of finding out that I’d have to share EVERYTHING with her, I remember being so proud to be able to show her how to play cars and ride a bike (cause I was a tom boy of course). Much to my disgust, Lauren the first born after me was more interested in Barbie’s and dolls and playing tea parties than my army games and guns and toy trucks. I remember when Mum would get up to feed the babies I would crawl out of bed at all hours of the morning to help feed them and hold their little hand while they fed and drifted off back to sleep. I was so proud to be the big sister. There was no better feeling. They started teaching me things from the moment they came into the world. Firstly, how to share and gave me my first real experience with love. I’ve found that there is no greater love, than the love you have for your flesh and blood. As they grew they showed me how to be protective. I guess having younger siblings, they kind of become your own kids because you want to nurture them and protect them as much and for as long as possible. It might be a similar feeling to what a parent goes through when they loosen the grip they have on their first born. They aren’t little people anymore, they are wanting to do their own things with their own friends and it’s kind of like losing a part of yourself when they grow up and start maturing. Most importantly, they showed me how crucial it is to be a good role model. I wasn’t the best role model throughout the first few years of being a teenager, but as they grew I realized that I didn’t want them to take the same path as me, so they put me on the straight and narrow so to speak. I wanted them to be the best they could possibly be so I started doing things that I wouldn’t mind them copying. In a way, they have been my savior. Having them showed me what is most important, to be a good person. I’m so proud to be their big sister cause I feel that maybe, just a little bit, I had a hand in them becoming what they are today. The three of them, they are so beautiful, so smart, so independent but all so, so different. They all have different strengths and weaknesses. They keep me young; they bring out my inner child. I love spending time and mucking around with them, it reminds me of how I was when I was their age, minus all the responsibility and not knowing the truth about the world. It was all so simple them. I look forward to being a part of their future and looking back with them on what was and will be an amazing lifetime we have together. I love you girls so much.

An older sister is a friend and defender - a listener, conspirator, a counsellor and a sharer of delights.  And sorrows too.  ~Pam Brown

Number two would be realizing that I might be gay. I always had it in the back of my mind but I tried so hard for so long to put it to the back and not think about it, and if I did that for long enough it would go away. Well it didn’t and here I am, still unsure of exactly what I am but none the less content with that conclusion. It wasn’t until I started meeting other people like me and developing emotions for a girl that I decided to embrace it. I hid it from my family for years, it was going on behind their backs and no one had any idea. They worst thing I could have ever done was lie to my mother about it, and that I did. It caused a lot of problems down the track but thankfully, it is all resolved now and we’re better than ever. I’m unsure of why it ended up this way, a lot of people say you’re born gay, you don’t turn gay. To some degree I agree with that statement but in my younger days I was never short of a boyfriend and even today, or in the more recent past I’ve had physical experiences with men and it hasn’t been all that bad, however not as good as a woman, clearly. As most would agree, I connected with women better emotionally and being the emotional person that I am, needed that extra connection more than I needed to be socially accepted. Now all my family knows, all the important people in my life are aware and no one has a problem, not one person. My mother and I put our stubbornness aside and understand each others points of view, my sisters couldn’t care either way, one is so happy there she has someone to do her nails with now. When my cousins found out one of them said “So? So what? Do you want me to love her any f*ing less?” so go figure. I always had the dream of having the perfect stereotypical lifestyle; the successful career; the tall, handsome, charming, sensitive husband; a litter of beautiful looking little people and the white picket fence, so it wasn’t to be. But it isn’t like I can’t have an amazing life now. I can just have the successful career, the perhaps not so tall, beautiful, charming, sensitive life partner; maybe a litter of little people (still deciding) and absolutely essential, the white picket fence. Who’s to say we can’t have that? Well yes, the Australian government does but maybe one day that’ll change also. So, not at all has this burdened anything in my life, if anything it has made me stronger. I was able to take the criticism on the chin and keep my head up and now as I get older, I don’t receive any criticism anymore. Again, this is something I would not change for the world.

Drag is when a man wears everything a lesbian won't.  ~Author Unknown

Number three, lastly, and most recently, the separation of my parents. My mother and my biological father separated when I was 18 months old, so my step-father, whom I will refer to in this and always have called Dad is the only father I have ever known. He took me in, put clothes on my back, food on my plate and a roof over my head when really, he could have just treated me like the step-daughter that I was. My three sisters never knew that he wasn’t my real father until very recently. Naturally the separation tore everything apart. I guess being older, I saw it coming a little more than what my sisters did but none the less, heart breaking. My sisters, as expected didn’t take it all that well so I took it upon myself to do whatever I possibly could to keep them from losing it completely. I did and still am putting in a lot of hard hours with them, staying up, mucking around and just spending quality time trying to keep their minds off it. They do look up to me, they’ve said it themselves so it’s in my head that I have to stay strong and put on a brave face to protect them from knowing how bad it actually is. It has hit me unbelievably hard but the main priority right now is making sure they survive the initial shock, I can fall apart later. On top of it rocking my sisters the world, the one who is copping the brunt of it is my mother, it was in the end a mutual but heart-wrenching decision to make, and things are only warming up. My mother is the strongest woman I have ever come across in my life. I had never seen her break down or get rough around the edges before. She is the heart, soul and backbone of this family, the only thing that has ever kept us going. She absolutely does everything. She is/was a wife, a mother; she holds down a job and runs a household all at once, which is a skill that only special people can gasp.  The day I saw her crumble is the day that I started to lose it myself. Most think I’m a cold heartless bitch because it’s only once in a blue moon anyone sees me cry. I went into work on my birthday, when it all happened and dad left and sat down and burst into tears in front of my co-worker, who is a good friend of my family. All I can really remember coming out of my mouth is “what do you do when the only person who keeps you going, is falling apart herself? What do you do when your hero needs saving?” and no one knew what to say. So after I pulled myself together, it was then and there I decided, being the tough, like-to-think-I’m-bulletproof kind of person that I am that I would do what I could to take the load off mum as well. I haven’t been out drinking with my friends since, I stopped hanging out with my friends and going to my partners as much, so they all started coming to me. My friends and Caitlin have been so amazingly supportive for myself and my family though this. I owe them all so much. My nights now consist of staying home and mucking about with the girls before they go to bed, and doing what I can to get mum to talk about what is going on, but naturally she doesn’t. I’m very, very short tempered and the amount of times I have lost my temper the past 2 months is unbelievable. When I know that someone is upsetting one of my sisters or my mum I fly off the handle so easily, and with all these built up emotions of my own, and taking on my sisters and trying to help my mum, my temper has been boiling over prematurely of late. It is just so hard to so back and watch them all hurt so much, and there isn’t anything I can do to stop it. Of course, I’m hurting myself but right now I’m trying to look after them. I can fall apart later on. Writing all this tonight, for the second time because I lost my first draft which was so much better than this one has gotten a little bit off my chest which is amazing, because it isn’t often I let loose with these kinds of things. The moral to this story is, I learnt that I can take on more than what I initially thought I could. I can put on the brave face and take it on the chin when I know I need to. It really has shown me that I don’t need anything in my life except my family. We’ve all been through so much together and we’ve come together as a family to help and guide each other through the times when we need it most. You all are my heart and soul. I love you so much.

“In a separation it is the one who is not really in love who says the more tender things.”

These are the three experiences I’ve had that when I think about life changing experiences; these are the three things that stick out most. They all have their pro’s and con’s and I can grasp a positive thing from each. The first two most definitely are fantastic things and the third; well it’s a learning curve, something we have to grow though.

My girls.

You can't type what a lesbian is. We're anything and everything. The one thing in common is that we make love to other women. So give up trying to limit us.

Girls who put out are tramps. Girls who don't are ladies. This is, however, a rather archaic usage of the word. Should one of you boys happen upon a girl who doesn't put out, do not jump to the conclusion that you have found a lady. What you have probably found is a Lesbian.

There is nothing mixed up about a woman who loves women, who wants to have sex with them, or who identifies as a lesbian. It is society that is mixed up because it punishes people for not conforming to its gender stereotypes.

Victory of Faith
By St. George Hare