Hey all of you beautiful people! I hope it won’t be too unprofessional to tell you that I am
hungover AF right now still recovering from an amazing, beautiful Pride weekend full of rainbows and happiness and the completion of another important step in our quest for legal equality.
They lit up the White House. The White House. Think back a few years. I don’t think anyone could have predicted the breakneck speed with which Pride has gone mainstream.
Yes, there is still so much to be done, both in our country and across the globe. But this was a good week. When love wins, we celebrate. And oh, what a celebration it’s been. ♥
Maria Bello says that we need new ways of talking about who we are and who we love. She’s not wrong.
Sexual identity is complicated. Love is simple.
When I was coming of age, my story was so much more nuanced than the narratives I read, watched on TV, connected with online, and that confused me.
For many years, it wasn’t that hard to date men. It was fine. I even fell in love with one or two, along the way. That didn’t happen to the gay girls in pop culture (well, besides Willow). It didn’t seem to happen to the people who read or wrote for my online communities, either. Everything seemed so very clear to them: they liked women. They loved women. They wanted to sleep with women. They wanted to marry women, someday, if it was ever legalized. Meanwhile, I didn’t know what I wanted. I just wanted…more than what I had with men. So what was I?
My partner is out of town this weekend, which means you’ll find me this afternoon at the movie theater during 50 Shades of Grey, a little drunk, peering down at the poor hapless actors from the very back of the theater, laughing as loudly as I want. I expect the movie to be, in essence, the sexual version of Sharknado — a cult classic that’s all cult and no classic. But come on. I mean. We’ve all gotta see it, right?
Anyway. That is not why I am writing this post.
I am writing this post because it’s Galentine’s Day Weekend! And that means love.