Name::straighttalker05 From::Northern Ireland, United Kingdom
I'm an avid dreamer. I have big ideas, and I'll probably take them somewhere. Watch this space.
I want to present what I think - and not with words minced up into an acceptable platter. Some things need to be told straight - particularly gay rights. Particularly life in the closet, it's very nature means no one hears it. If they do it's usually tinted with nostalgia.
I'm confident, I know what I like and what I don't. Please don't confuse this for arrogance. I'm probably more insecure then you imagine. View my complete profile
Again I return from a party amazed. Amazed at what drink can do to people. Amazed at the culture of social gatherings in 2005. Amazed at the price of Smirnoff Ice (£3.00 is ridiculous).
I’m closeted, so I’m on my best behaviour for the night. I wouldn’t be the first to get intoxicated and declare the truth. Although, to be fair, I don’t think anyone would even notice if I stripped down into my ‘Damn, Now Everyone Knows I’m A…’ t shirt and started waving a pride flag on the dance floor. Oh no, because sure everyone flirts with lesbianism.
There is a firm difference between flirting with lesbianism and flirting with lesbians. But then, seeing as they all reckon I’m straight, I’m all good. Lesbians are still a rare breed to be approached with caution. Ironic - I get groped at more at a straight girl’s 18th birthday party, than at a gay bar?
I spent some time wondering why these girls are getting so hormonal on me. I initially put it down to my charm – logical of course. However, upon serious thought, it’s either escapism, curiosity – or booze. Maybe they were trying to impress the boys (cynicism). Maybe they were testing me (paranoia). Maybe they were just drunk (realism).
It would of course be judgemental of me to condemn them for having a bit of ‘fun’. I really don’t. I just wonder if we provided more alcohol in parliament, would we get more liberal laws?
_________________________ Graphic by Leah Tiscione, Arizona Daily Star.
I can’t help feeling time has warped a little. Christmas is now over, and I am typing this by candlelight, watching the inflatable light up snowman my brother bought my parents for Christmas slowly taking off across the garden. Such a shame.
It is a most surreal time, and not only because I am watching Frosty floating into the neighbour’s garden. Enforced ‘quality time’ in the days that people and time seem to forget. Boxing day and the day after seem to me to be vaguely empty, like some omnipotent force is trying to improve traditional family life by putting re runs of old films on the TV, and closing all the shops. It may seem terribly 21st century of me, but at this time of year, don’t we all miss the late night shopping?
Call it post-indulgence digestion time. Call it family time. Call the vacuum just plain boring. Maybe this is what I need? Time to take stock of what I have and don’t have in my life. Time to catch up with sleep/school work/friends/The Sound of Music/ Carry On films. Or maybe just time to plan the New Year’s party.
It seems unfortunate and unfitting to end a year, which has seemed to be event after event flying by in the pages of a diary, with emptiness and gluttony. I could say it seems unfortunate to end 2005 so soon, yet something in me is glad to see it passing.
Having taken time to rethink, restock and remember, I may head toward 2006 in the knowledge that it will be at least 362 days before I will have the time to watch the dreaded ‘Christmas TV’ again. Time goes by too quickly sometimes.
Merry Christmas should of course be my first word. I’m currently quite snappy because of being tired from having to sing at 3 church services within 12 hours. Little sleep and an aching throat always mean Christmas is most enjoyable, if just a tad cranky.
For some people, Christmas is a time for family. If you don’t see them all year, this may be a special time to share memories with your kin. However, if you see them 364 other days, Christmas may be quite trying.
It makes me feel bad that even on Christmas, which is after all meant to be such a special day, I still find myself nit-picking on the little things my family say and do.
My mother describes the people she approves of as ‘decent, straight’. I’m sure you can guess where this is going. I know she doesn’t really understand the connotations of what she is saying. I know she only means the person is honest, but I am longing to cry out, ‘Any other flattering word from the dictionary!’ I mean, really, she may be adversely affecting my mental health!
I know if this is the only problem I can find with my family dynamic, I am very lucky. For some they face a return to a family who scorn upon their ‘lifestyle’. At least we are enjoying Christmas more than the turkey. (I say this without feeling bad, I'm a vegetarian. It is however most cliche. Apologies.)
I hope everyone had a peaceful Christmas, and looks forward to a prosperous new year.
I am beginning to worry slightly that people will imagine me to be obsessed with the festive season, but really, it’s only because it is so prevalent at this time of year. Normal service will resume in January.
As someone who is a bit of a hermit, and doesn’t really do shopping for the rest of the year, December is always a bit of a trek for me. All of a sudden I am forced to roam the aisles to the accompaniment of jingling bells and Mariah Carey. One thing that does amaze me about Christmas every year is the presents, and the sheer diversity, creativity and uselessness of them.
I have a single older brother, who I find myself browsing for among the shelves of grey/blue/silver gift sets. I must admit to perhaps being a little selfish and thinking some of the items I buy him would look MUCH nicer in my possession. To save myself from this guilt I do what’s right and look at the girl’s presents in the pink/purple boxes to predict what might be waiting under the tree for me. I am utterly disgusted.
Why would I want the items in the pink boxes? Useless, drab and covered in fluff. And yet I must resign myself, due to my gender, to these items, year after year.
Maybe if I came out, people might buy me the silver boxed gadgets? Mum…..
Apologies for going on about it – but Civil Partnerships are here! Ironic perhaps that Belfast, which is pretty backward about such things, was the setting for the first ceremony. Northern Ireland was of course, typically, the last part of the UK to legalise homosexuality, as recently as 1982. Media coverage was generally positive.
Protesters gathered at City Hall, with the trailer saying ‘Repent therefore and be ye converted’, which premiered at Belfast Pride this year. Way to mark a civil partnership dude. Some choice crowd members mocked the protesters (I bet they loved that) with signs that said ‘The earth is flat’. It probably was the last time those protestors looked up from their bibles.
Of course, this wasn’t technically the first ceremony, a terminally ill cancer sufferer was given special permission to wed his partner early in a ceremony held in a hospice in Sussex. Matthew Roche, 46, died on Tuesday 6th December - just a day after his and his partner, Christopher Cramp held their partnership ceremony. A sobering thought, and one that begs for me to quote:
“Love like there’s no tomorrow”
All the best to Grainne Close and Shannon Sickles, and to everyone else undergoing the ceremony in the next few days.
There’s always something better to do. Something better than my history essay which is due in tomorrow. Something better than starting the Christmas shopping. Something better than tidying the mess left from last night. Something better than telling your parents you are gay.
So maybe I exaggerate a little, but fact is, I’m a pretty big procrastinator. My diet has been starting tomorrow since September. It’s harder if I leave it, but easier to put it off. Weird logic I know.
While Christmas is very much at the forefront of everyone’s minds at the moment, the New Year has a tendency of sneaking in behind it when you least expect it. I usually abhor new years resolutions, but as I become an overworked student, I figure there is no better time to start an attempt to be perfect then January 1 2006. Maybe the change of year will scare me into action.
Millions of other people will be trying to better themselves, give up the cigarettes, join the gym, eat healthily, stop biting nails and all those other flaws we can pick out of ourselves.
Here’s to 2006, a new diet (starting tomorrow), lots of studying (later on, TV first) and being honest with my parents (in 2012).
Christmas is coming. The Coca-Cola adverts say so. It’s approaching like the express train, and I almost feel like jumping under it. That’s right, I have so far, a grand total of 0 presents bought, 0 cards sent and minimal money to spend. Of course, all that insanely cheery music is making me want to cry with seasonal and collective Christmas joy.
Of course, Christmas is about the family. Why is it such a camp holiday again? Lets face it, only a gay bar could get away with all those ‘fairy’ lights year round, and there is something impeccably dykish about all the gadgets that suddenly make it to the shop floor.
However for some, Xmas isn’t really looked forward too. For those whose home life is less than wonderful, the return to a home where their sexuality is frowned upon may be tough. Plus, all those eco-warrior lesbians (not mentioning anyone in particular) do have great moral battles over the killing of an innocent tree for ornamental value for a month.
I could have written something longer or more relevant. But it’s late night shopping in the local shopping centre.
If we can be forgiven for lying to ourselves, why is acceptance so difficult?
If we lie to someone else, even a little white lie, when we are discovered we inevitably feel diminished. Generally, society frowns up untruths. Yet it seems living a lie would be more favourable in societies eyes.
Lying is a pretty risky business, like gambling it’s addictive and the costs can be high. However lying to yourself is apparently comparatively low risk. No one is really checking if you are lying to yourself and technically it costs nothing material. Ironic then, they lying to yourself is the most destructive and the most difficult.
Call me delusional, but the truth is one bitter lemon to suck. Is it any wonder I’ve lied to myself, and others for so long? Lying does me today, and probably tomorrow. If I look at the ground I can keep walking this way. When I look ahead and see the bigger picture, I risk stopping and facing the difficulties.
Reality may eventually overcome illusion. In the ‘cold light of day’, it refracts to a rainbow.
Perhaps one reason to stay firmly in the closet - locked, bolted and throw-away-the-key style, is the t-shirts. It seems once you have come out of the closet, there is ample opportunity to fill the space with a wide variety of t-shirts, which will either warn people to cross the street when they see you coming, or just confuse the poor old dear who lives next door.
I think you must truly be gay if you consider a ‘Damn, now everyone knows I’m a lesbian’ t-shirt to be even mildly funny. I own one. Damn.
Of course, if you weren’t gay, why would you want a rainbow dog collar (for a pet I hasten to add). Or, indeed, it is clearly only gay people who need stickers for their car windscreen that say ‘2QT2BTR8’. I could give other examples of humourous LGBT catch phrases, but just head to a Pride parade and you'll see them all.
I can’t say it’s all so bad. It evokes some strange feelings or pride and solidarity, even though I’m now entirely sure why. I personally don’t feel the need for a rainbow stocking and rainbow Christmas tree, but then, I’m in the closet so what do I know!
Christmas is coming. All presents gratefully received. (Even the ‘I love womyn’ magnets.)
I couldn’t let December pass without mentioning possibly the most significant social and political change in recent years. You may be sick hearing about them already. I’m talking about Civil Partnerships.
So maybe there are still lines of people wanting to condemn homosexuality, but at least now we have rights we didn’t have previously. Maybe it’s not perfect, in fact I’m sure there is still a steep climb till homosexuality is widely accepted and gays have the same rights as everyone else, but it’s a start.
Income related benefits, tax credits and child support, employment benefits and inheritance of a tenancy agreement is all very well, but I feel the most important rights offered in the new Civil Partnerships are the ability to apply for parental responsibility for your civil partner’s child and recognition for immigration and nationality purposes.
There are reports of how many queer couples will be dashing to the registry office, in what seems to be an almost school boy like frenzy. Not surprisingly Brighton & Hove have the most ceremonies arranged, but perhaps oddly the first ceremony in the UK will take place in Northern Ireland, due to us having a waiting period before implementation of only 14 days, as opposed to 21 days. Don’t be fooled into thinking N. Ireland is open-minded though – it’s not.
Roll on Civil Partnerships. Good luck to anyone going through ceremonies. Here’s to more gay rights, and 2006.
I’ve discovered where all the lesbians hang out. It’s not in a gay bar, or in some feminist commune. It’s not even at KD Lang concerts. It’s somewhere far detached from that. It’s the airport.
Sounds a bit daft I know, maybe it’s the attraction of buzzing metal detectors and the looming frisking. (Am I the only one who joins the queue with the cutest woman security?).
Maybe we’re just more adventurous, or maybe we just need to get away more often. Perhaps there are cheap flights to Lesbos. Or maybe we just want to show off those lovely rainbow suitcase straps you can get now.
I’m pretty sure we don’t jet off to get an even tan. Some of us may be heading for the cheap booze; because I’m sure those big cases aren’t full of evening dresses and jewellery.
I imagine some of this may be due to the fact we have no snotty brats to provide for, or any children to cater for. But I am more prone to put it down to the ½ price month on easyjet, and the number of long distance, gaydargirls.com induced relationships. Whatever their business at the airport, lesbians are going places. (Providing they don’t spend too long in duty free flirting and miss their flight.)
Today I’m going to look at handbags. Or rather the lack of them. As I prepare for a night on the town I find myself wondering where exactly my lesbian counterparts put the essentials. I suppose we don’t really need the lip gloss and mascara, but the chewing gum is essential, and the wallet, the mobile phone and digital camera are useful, if not mandatory.
Am I missing something here? Do all my lesbian friends have extra pockets I don’t know about? (Or perhaps would rather not know about.) I’m afraid the hamster pocket look isn’t a good one for me, and I do object to having hips twice as wide as I actually do. I like to think of it as false advertising.
Maybe I just don’t notice where they put it, but I am resolved to watch very carefully where their money comes from next time I’m out. I’m in the lesbian club yes, but I am considering joining the magic circle – I saw a magician once who must have had the answer.
We do have lots of other magic tricks. The ability to drink as much as our male counterparts, burp like true men and even (some might say) imitate the walk of men to a T.* We have the ability to put men off with just a look of disinterest, and, if we so wish, seriously weird out straight girls. Come to think of it – why don’t we have a show in Blackpool?
Coming soon – ‘Funny Girls’ – Lesbian Illusions and Magic’
“Simply fabulous – one minute my girlfriend Jenny was sitting beside me, the next she had gone!” -Billy, Bolton
“I’ve never looked back. Thanks Funny Girls!” -Jenny, Brighton