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Monthly Archives: July 2012

A Two Mango Margarita Day

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I’m SO all over the board today.  Partly because I’m tired.  I work an alternating graveyard shift schedule at a high stress job.  One week it’s three days on and three days off and the next week it’s four days on and four days off.  I just finished up with my four days on and you could wring me out like a limp dish rag.  I average anywhere from four to five hours of sleep each day because I help watch my grandson that lives with me while his mama works and goes to school and it’s quite time consuming albeit a total labor of love on my part.  This particular four day work week I got exactly sixteen hours of sleep which makes me feel like a mental patient!  It is not the kind of time frame one should be having in depth conversations, balancing the checking account, etc.  You get the picture!

But today…today I somehow ended up in this “let’s get real” conversation with my partner about where our relationship is heading.  She is transgendered and we’re at this little place where she feels the need to honor her inner male and begin the journey of transitioning and I am at a place where I am finally able to understand who I am and it is not even remotely close to anything resembling heterosexuality.  I am unchanging in a world of complete and radical change right now, or so I think.

Maybe I am changing too because of what is going on.  There was a time when I kicked and screamed when she’d bring up the possibility of transitioning because I knew she’d back down.  But over the past decade I grew to understand just how incredibly selfish I was and manipulative to boot when I’d have these little passive aggressive  tantrums.  The part where I’ve changed is where I’ve stopped being a selfish brat and realized it is not my place to force change,  or in this case the lack thereof by my own will.  But in giving up the old me I’ve come to understand that I am helping someone become what it is that will make them happy and it is not even close to what I imagined for myself yet it’s the right thing to do.  So the conversation went around and around those facts that are hard to swallow because as human beings we appreciate stability in our lives.  It is our nature. This conversation was draining yet cathartic.  It was sobering yet full of bliss because it is what she needs to become  and that’s a happy thing.  I’m just not going to think about where that puts me in this whole Rubik’s Cube of life.  It’s unimportant to me because I know I’ll be okay.  I always am.

After this crazy conversation I decided it was mango margarita time.  No, boys and girls and bois, it was TWO mango margarita time on a floatie in the pool where I lifted my chin to the Sun and let the heat wash over me and heal my soul once again.


Holy Shiznit – I’m sticking around!

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So here I am thinking I haven’t been posting much to this blog.  And my erratic self is thinking I should delete it and I go to do so and lo and behold I’m finding all these communications from people who actually have enjoyed the few posts I’ve made….sooooo instantdyke is staying on the block for a while more!


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A friend of mine posted a status on Facebook which said “Since when was it okay to say The Gays” and it got me thinking that I have heard thatmore often recently.  Hm.  What does that mean?  Seriously!?!  Tell me!!!! Give me a perspective other than my own because my own isn’t that great!   I have two perspectives on this actually.  The first one is that we are an entity unto ourselves, like we’re from some exotic island somewhere – Gay Island, maybe (okay that MIGHT just be fun!).    Back in the day, you know, before things were “more equal”  it was The Blacks, The Womenfolk, etc….which I might add is and was completely unacceptable on any account.  So we don’t use that terminology much anymore as a general good rule!  But, we do say The Gays in all arenas still…television shows, political conversations, backyard barbeques, etc.  When I questioned my friend’s status update he said he heard it on a popular reality show where they were talking about a wedding  and how THE GAYS have great taste, good fashion, etc.  Even in such a “positive” context it still feels outrageous and selective.  It feels like segregation.

The other option as explanation is maybe the world caught on to the “family” concept.  Maybe they’re using it in the context like one would say The Jones’ or The Smith’s….you know, The Gays!  That would be cozy now wouldn’t it?   I tend to disagree.  If you know my family and can make comments then cool.  But The Gays would be a big ole family and quite frankly we don’t all have good fashion, know how to throw parties, or know the best club music.  Some of us would like to think we do and ride high on the coat tails of those insinuations but it’s just not true and I hope this isn’t breaking anyone heart to find out the truth! 🙂

In any context it’s a big fat stereotype and I wonder if people even realize what they’re saying.  Maybe they do realize and feel it’s cool and trendy, I don’t know.  I could beat this one into the ground but I have to go get dinner now.  I’m thinking a big fat gay cheeseburger would be nice.  :)))  Blah.


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Okay, it’s time for a more serious post now.  I’m all coffee’d out and I don’t want to be silly.  We need to discuss some serious business.  

I am at an impasse.  Actually, I’m not sure if impasse is good terminology.  Here is the situation.  I am a big dyke.  Trust me, it wasn’t “instant” big dyke.  It’s taken me a while to get to this place but here I am and I’m not sitting on the fence.  I like women.  I dig chics.  I am the very definition of dyke that you might find in the gay/lesbian dictionary.   Although I’m not sure if there is such a thing but there is in my head!  I used to be married to men.  Three marriages to be exact.  They didn’t work out for a variety of reasons.  But one of them is definitely because I was into women and didn’t realize it.  So, the common heterosexual relationship is a “been there, done that” kind of thing for me.  I envy the lesbians who have always been in touch with who they are and didn’t have to go through a lot of instability to come the the realization of who they were.  I have four lovely children out of those deals though and I’ll never regret that.  They are the best thing I’ve ever done with my life.  They’re amazing and even more amazing to put up with me and my changes all these years.  I could add pages and pages to this story between the beginning and where I am now but I’d be here all night.  Right now, in this very moment in time, I am me and me loves women.  

The impasse?  My partner has come out to me as trangendered.  She has gone to this place in the past but she always backs out and says she thinks she was confused.  It gets swept under the rug only to return three years later for another round of confusion.  This time I am refusing to let it get swept under a rug.  It shouldn’t be a matter of not being who one is for the sake of the person they are with – ever.  It’s unacceptable to expect someone to be something they are not.  To give oneself to another you must first be whole and holy within yourself.  These things I believe to be total truths.

The impasse?  What does one do when they are a not-even-close-to-sitting-on-the-fence dyke and they find themselves in a relationship that’s spanned close to a decade with someone who is about embark on their own personal journey to become male?  Hrm.

Everyone let’s bow our heads and ponder.  🙂

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It is hotter than HELL outside right now.  I’m in Iowa.  If you’ve ever been in Iowa you will know there is no where, and I do mean no where to seek solace from the sun.  Fine.  I might be guilty of being slightly melodramatic, I’ll give that to you.  But in my own defense the temperature gauge above the Super Walmart (yet another fabulous feature of Iowa) did say 106 degrees when I went past this morning at TEN THIRTY IN THE MORNING.  Yes, I’m a whiner.  So.

So, there I am driving my mini-van whip down the interstate exit and I look up and there is the temperature in all it’s blazing glory right next to it’s mother ship the Sun and I almost wrecked the my hot ride right there gawking at the thing.  

Who signed up for this anyway?  Honestly.  

So, I get the mini whip back on track and I know I have to make a decision.  This is like the sixth day in a row of these temperatures and I’m pretty sure this is the hottest one yet.  I need to decide if I’m going to continue whining about it or just embrace this craziness.  I’m going to embrace it.  So, I come home grab my swim suit.  Yes, it is the standard dyke swimwear of a pair of basketball shorts, a sports bra, and “wife-beater” (what IS the real name for those little shirts, anyway?).  I head to the backyard where the pool is and lo and behold it is lovely hue of sea green.  Well, I could take myself back to the lovely Super Walmart and buy a butt-load of chemicals or I can do what I’ve been needing to do for a while drain it up, clean it up, fill it up and start over.

 I opt for draining.  I sit on the top of the inflatable ring of this gargantuan 18 foot wide, four foot deep blow up baby pool and the water starts rushing out, I go ass over tin cup into the mud and the neighbors chain link fence, the dog comes up the ladder jumps into the pool, rides the wave over the edge, lands on me and my muddy splendor but damnit we’re cooled off, you know!  We get up, hose ourselves off, and look into the haze of sunshine and hope no one saw that.  Two hours later the pool is filling again with crystal blue water.  I floated my troubles away in five inches of water while it began filling and fell asleep under the mother ship and woke with about 10 inches of water beneath me and a wicked sunburn but I feel accomplished.