Has the Opposite Sex Become Obsolete?

 

Season 3 Episode 34 Still

 

Truthfully, for this woman the answer to that question is yes, the opposite has become obsolete.  In a way.  I can’t wait for my not conceived children to meet their grandpa.  Last I checked you can only have a baby with sperm and I think that having strong men around is great.  I learned a lot from my father and my uncles.  Yet, even as a teenager I was pretty sure that women could rule the world and we would only need to keep around a few really smart, kind considerate males (in containment of course) for the purposes of breeding; both “natural” for those so inclined and the old fashioned turkey baster method. 

I was having a conversation with someone the other day and was so shocked by the questions coming out of their mouth that I decided I needed to post.  This person asked if I always knew that I was gay and wanted to know when I came out.  Answer- I came out at 28 and always knew that I was gay.  They then asked, “well don’t you miss having sex with men?” and my simple answer was No, I don’t miss it.

Interestingly last night I started watching Season 4 of SATC when Samantha starts to date Maria.  She and the girls have just met up at the coffee shop after a long weekend and Samantha starts in giving the ladies a very insightful look into the makings of lesbian sex.  We learn that Samantha has discovered every thing there is to know about the pussy.  She tells them she’s getting an education and not for nothing, a lot of women could do with a bit more learnin’ about their vaginas; gay and straight.  For Samantha, it’s just a new chapter in her sex book.  After two episodes she and Maria break up.  For me, and a lot of women who come out later in life, it’s about rediscovering who you are.

Thing is, I didn’t choose to be gay no more than I chose to be black.  I was born this way.  I did, however, choose to be straight for a very long time.  I made the conscious decision to live my life as a pseudo-straight person because I thought it would be easier for me and for my family.  Living and dating as a straight woman I had sex with men.  I will even put it out there that most of the time I had an okay time.  Other A lot of times I fantasized about having sex with women.

The first two times in the lesbo-sac were a bit rocky.  I didn’t know what I was doing and to call it awkward wouldn’t be a lie.  Then I had amazing sex and, well, let’s just say I’ve never looked back.  It’s not just about the sex, of course, it felt great because I was finally doing something that felt right.  Do I ever look at straight couples and wish I were in a hetero relationship?  Only when the realization of the ease at which they’re given civil rights and then it just makes me angry and want to work towards equal rights for all people.

While I’m not a hetero-phobe I’m definitely pro-other.  Whether that other is based on age, race, sexual orientation or religion the others out there need be recognized as equal in our society.  One of my friends posted on Facebook today that our country was ripe for a revolution and you know what?  I think we are.  We live in 2011 where a black man sits on the seat of the most powerful country in the world and last week thousands of Americans were given pink slips.  Reading in the NY Times today I learned that teachers in Wisconsin are being notified that they will be loosing their jobs, and only a fraction of them will be able to actually get those jobs back in the fall.  Women are continually paid less money and the rights of a woman to, as Representative Moore so eloquently stated, Plan her Parenthood is under attack.

While for me, in terms of sexual satisfaction the opposite sex has become obsolete we all need to stand together to make sure we’re all afforded the same rights.  Gay rights shouldn’t be the concern of LGBTQ individuals and their families only, it should be the concern of all Americans.  The rights of women shouldn’t just be a concern for women but any one who has a mother, sister, or aunt.  The rights of the disabled, the rights of the aging, the rights of unions the rights of every American should be the concern of every American.  Until we can get to that point, and as it seems we’re never going to reach that understanding, we need to rally.

Thank you to the New Yorkers who went downtown today to rally for the rights of others.  I was at work but with you in spirit.

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Verizon and other woes

Yes, you read correctly.  Still without internet.  I can’t even get into it.  Let’s just say a woman in India got another piece of my mind and I cancelled the service entirely.  I got a bill the very next day for internet I never had but that’s another story.  I was talking to Dez about my internet woes and how I planned on making a phone call to Time Warner to get internet from them and she informed me that she was quite certain that Time Warner didn’t service our neighborhood and that, surprise, surprise Verizon is my only option.  Tsk. Tsk.

In other news I found out from my mother last week that my sister is back in rehab and that she was using while pregnant with my newest nephew.  The good thing is that JD is doing wonderfully.  So far he’s physically and developmentally doing well.  Me, I’m fucking pissed.  I cannot even begin to talk about my frustrations with my sister.  Immediately I get pissed off and annoyed that I’m almost in my thirties, I have only one sibling and she’s the worse possible excuse for s sister.  I get pissed that I don’t have a connection with her.  I get pissed at her selfishness.  People, Christians, tell me that I’m pissed off at her addiction and not her.  I have to say-I’m really just pissed off at her.

About a two years ago I went back to church.  I would go every Sunday religiously and when I worked at Saks I would be done with work in time to go to St. Thomas on Fifth Ave for evening prayer service.  I would pray for my sister.  For a year straight I would kneel at my pew with tears streaming down my face praying for her.  Every time I was in church my prayers went to her.

There’s this line in my favorite Dave Matthews song that goes, “I pray but they fall on deaf ears”  Thats how it feels.  I’m not mad at god, though.  I’m not mad at cocaine, I’m only mad at her.  The person who choses to make the decisions that are deciding the fate of two innocent lives.  More than the lives of my nephews, her children, the lives of my parents are effected.  Two people in their mid-fifties who are raising children again.  My life.  When my parents die, and they will die, who will care for these children?  Me.  I’m not selfish, do not misunderstand.  These are the facts at hand.  My parent’s have custody of two children with different fathers.  Said fathers are worthless excuses for humans, let alone fathers and the courts have decided such.  So when my parents pass away and their fathers have been deemed unworthy and their mother, my sister, also deemed unworthy instead of turning to the system who else is there but me?

These are the thoughts in my head.  My sister, the fucking whore bitch who’s ruined the lives of so many.  The state of my immediate family and the roles that people play.  My nephews who have been adopted by my parents so that now they’re my brothers, legally speaking.  My guilt for leaving the family that’s turned into denial that they existed and now has developed back into guilt that keeps me awake at night-yet not strong enough to force me to return home to do anything.  What can I do, really, to undo all of these wrongs.  Nothing.  Absolutely nothing so I’ve evolved to this place where I’m pretty numb to it all.  Except for the sheer blood red anger and hatred I feel towards the closest blood relative-my sister.

Family In Crisis?

On Christmas day my sister gave me some interesting news. She’s about two weeks late. Most sisters would be over joyed at the prospect of becoming an aunt for the second time. Most people, though, don’t have a sister who’s battling drug addiction and a nephew who’s now, legally, a brother. She just nonchalantly commented that she was late and that an abortion wasn’t an option.

The conversation was vaguely familiar. I’d heard it over two years prior. I was in living in Connecticut at the time, she at my parent’s house only a month or so out of yet another stint in rehab. On that afternoon I told her that she needed to get an abortion and she told me it wasn’t an option. I reminded her that she’d only left rehab for the sixth time a month ago, that she was a cutter, suicidal, unstable, that she didn’t have a job nor a place to live. That she was penniless and could, in no way, support a child. Her response, just like it was on Thursday was, “it’s not an option, Erika.”

I’m pissed. I’m pissed because the girl is twenty-seven years old. Yes, I said “girl.” Because she still is a girl. She can’t take care of herself and therefore, cannot take care of her child. That’s why my parents are raising her child. Correction, after my parent’s divorce twenty-eight days ago, my mother is raising her child. I was under the impression that my parent’s were done raising children. Apparently, I was wrong.

I’m pissed that she didn’t learn her lesson. One would think that having a child when you’re penniless, homeless, and a drug addict would teach you to use the birth control options that are readily available to you. Condoms, the Pill, the Patch, the Shot, Condoms.

It would be a different situation if she were a stable person. If she had a stable job, an income, a residence. It would be a different situation if she were a responsible person with the ability to take responsibility for her actions. It would be a different situation if the person who may be baby daddy #2 were stable or responsible.

The present situation is far from what I imagined would be the life of my sister as an adult. It’s hard for me to fathom how two children, brought up in the same exact way, in the same exact home, given the same exact opportunities could end up completely different.

So here I am, in New York City planning a life and a future with a woman that I love. That future involves so much planning; mostly financial planning for the children that we both want to have. I want to be an established and published novelist. Which requires me to work on my novel, to work on finding an agent, and to work with that agent to get my novel published. The planning requires for Mirs to finish her research proposal that will allow her to finish her PhD and for her to open her practice.

Then, and only then is the discussion of family and the responsibility that comes along with that an option. I realise that shit happens. I especially realise that in our homosexual relationship pregnancy “surprises” can never happen. But is a surprise pregnancy ever really a surprise? Did we not all learn the story of life in junior high? Did you not learn that when a sperm finds it’s way to an egg that the result is a fetus?

It always baffles my mind that women just happen to find themselves pregnant. I mean, up until three years ago I was having sex with men and I didn’t just happen to find myself pregnant. There was never once an “Ohmigod” moment that I thought the possibility of pregnancy was there. It was simple, if I didn’t take my pill at the right time, then we used a condom or didn’t fuck. Period.

I’m waiting for the time to tell my mother, who just moved into a two bedroom apartment with her two and a half year old grandson(son) after divorcing her husband of thirty-two years that her irresponsible twenty-seven year old daughter who is currently sleeping on her couch informed her other, more responsible daughter, that her period is two weeks late. When is the perfect time to tell your aging mother with a thyroid problem and high cholesterol such amazing news?

I used to pray for my sister in church when I went to church on Sundays. After communion when everyone knees or bows their heads, I would hold my head in my hands and fight back tears of sadness and frustration and guilt for the life that my sister lives. I feel sadness because it’s confusing to me how she ended up the way she did. It’s frustrating to me because I get angry about the stress and unhappiness that she’s burdening my parent’s with. And I feel guilty that somehow I’ve escaped the black pit that is Toledo, Ohio for the land of opportunity that is New York, New York. Guilt that I am the favored child. The perfect child. The one that’s alright.

Maybe it’s because before Christmas, it’d been six months since I’d been to church. Six months since I thought about my sister, really. Six months of living in the bubble that is the unconditional love of my girlfriend that has caused me to forget about all of my troubles at home. It’s true, if I’m being honest with myself. I have forgotten about all of the shit that is fucked up in Ohio. I’ve forgotten about the hard life that my mother has been forced to live because of my sister. More than forgetting it, I’ve avoided it. I’ve avoided dealing with all of it because who wants to deal with all of the hurt and the pain when you’re laying next to beauty and love? Not that my mother doesn’t love me, nor I her. I do. She is, and always will be, the most important person in my life. I don’t want to be the one that hurts her with this news. I know, though, that it will be me. Like it was before. Letting her know that her youngest daughter, her baby, had disappointed her once again. Shit.