onlysweetpea
Bluelighter
Almost finished reading ‘Valencia’ by Michelle Tea. It’s hot today. A kind of hot unfamiliar to SF. It’s Hollywood hot, sticking my sheer tank top to my chest, plastering my hair to my neck, wiping sweat from my nose again and again. I’m a shiny, glistening girl strolling down Haight past Fillmore, past the residential stretch of the street to plop myself in the back of Frijtz on Hayes. An ice tea and a bummed cigarette.
I quit smoking 2 months ago.
The urge for one hits after 3 beers or 2 martini’s or when I see a cute urban hipster messy boy with a crumpled pack of Parliament Lights on the table.
Reading Valencia, A novel about the dyke-punk scene in the Mission, I wished there girls were boys for they’d be boys I’d fall in love with. Each chapter is punctuated with the beginning or ending of a relationship. They fucked, fell in love at the drop of a hat and fell out of love and disenchanted even quicker.
It’s that kind of grrrl fuel that keeps the dating game moving, like square dancing, you’re so out of breath.
It doesn’t seem like straight dating has that kind of consistent fuel. Most of the straight men I know have that ‘quick to fuck, hesitant to love’ mentality. Which is ok, I guess. With the right person, I’m quick to fuck too and I’m hesitant to love because they’re hesitant and I work off of what they give me in bad signals until they stop calling or I start avoiding their calls.
I quit smoking cause I lit up one day and I made that face, the kind you make when you make when you bite into something unexpected. It tasted different, the smoke made my chest heavy and the scent stuck to my skin, like this hot hot day. Smoking now, I want to put it out, but its new and I think he’s looking at me and I feel like if I did he’d think he wasted a perfectly good cigarette. I looked at him and caught his eye and looked away. I took a puff and let it out quickly. He was cute, but I’m through with hipster boys. You can tell by the amount of product in their hair if they cared about what image they project or were a true dirty punk who rolled out of bed looking like that.
I quit smoking 2 months ago.
The urge for one hits after 3 beers or 2 martini’s or when I see a cute urban hipster messy boy with a crumpled pack of Parliament Lights on the table.
Reading Valencia, A novel about the dyke-punk scene in the Mission, I wished there girls were boys for they’d be boys I’d fall in love with. Each chapter is punctuated with the beginning or ending of a relationship. They fucked, fell in love at the drop of a hat and fell out of love and disenchanted even quicker.
It’s that kind of grrrl fuel that keeps the dating game moving, like square dancing, you’re so out of breath.
It doesn’t seem like straight dating has that kind of consistent fuel. Most of the straight men I know have that ‘quick to fuck, hesitant to love’ mentality. Which is ok, I guess. With the right person, I’m quick to fuck too and I’m hesitant to love because they’re hesitant and I work off of what they give me in bad signals until they stop calling or I start avoiding their calls.
I quit smoking cause I lit up one day and I made that face, the kind you make when you make when you bite into something unexpected. It tasted different, the smoke made my chest heavy and the scent stuck to my skin, like this hot hot day. Smoking now, I want to put it out, but its new and I think he’s looking at me and I feel like if I did he’d think he wasted a perfectly good cigarette. I looked at him and caught his eye and looked away. I took a puff and let it out quickly. He was cute, but I’m through with hipster boys. You can tell by the amount of product in their hair if they cared about what image they project or were a true dirty punk who rolled out of bed looking like that.
