The Law of Desirability

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The Law of Desirability

One thing I've learned since I decided to only date one woman is that there's a weird inverse relationship between availability and attractiveness.  The less available you are, the more attractive you become. This week alone, I've gotten two hook-up texts, a "baby I've missed you so much!" email, and a "sorry I didn't get back you sooner.  Call me!" voice mail, from women who two months ago were giving me nothing but shade.

Just this morning I discovered that I'd been tagged in a suggestive Facebook photo of me, dancing at a club a while back.  It had to have been quite a while back, since I haven't been out dancing in months.  In the picture, I have my mouth open, looking like I'm about to take a bite out of my dance partner's breast!  I know I never would have done any such thing in public (in private is a totally different matter), so I was probably just laughing at some witty repartee.  But, if a picture's worth a thousand words, I didn't want to have to spend two thousand more trying to come up with a reasonable explanation.  I took the easy way out and untagged myself from said photo.

It's hard, if not impossible, to believe that these Janies-come-lately aren't aware that I have a girlfriend. Nothing travels faster than the speed of gossip in the lesbian community. Now that I'm suddenly unavailable, it's like I've become the honorary mayor of Dykeville.  Everywhere Autumn and I go women are "Hey Sissy" and "Hi Sissy-ing" me, with various sultry inflections.  Or is that just wishful thinking? 

"Who was that?" Autumn asked me after one woman insisted on giving me a hug and her Twitter name while Autumn and I were out to dinner.

"Uh," I looked down at the scrawled name on the paper and read, "@BarbieTrubble."

"It's funny you don't know her name.  She seemed to know you pretty well."

"Well, I think we might have gone dancing once or something."

"You dated her, but you don't remember her name?" 

"I didn't date her, specifically.  We were out in a big group of women," I explained, recalling the woman as a member of Rose-the-Diva's entourage."

"Sissy, just how many women have you dated?" 

I laughed.  "Hey, don't worry, it's not like I've dated like 10,000 women or anything."

"That's an interesting  upper range.  So, less than 10,000, but more than...?" 

"10?" I suggested.

"No, seriously, more than what?"

I didn't answer.  Not because I was angry, or embarrassed, but....

"You honestly have no idea, do you?"


Comments [3]

Conlite's picture

Love your Sunday tales, by

Love your Sunday tales, by the way.

Marcie Bianco's picture

a number is "just" a number

a number is "just" a number for some...not "just" (a number) for others = LOVE IT. (I am of the latter...nothing is "just"....)

Not2Taem's picture

LOL Not to mention the, "Is


Not to mention the, "Is this a date or just..." dilema of transient queer relationships. Isn't our lack of definition part of the beauty?