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August 28, 2006
les be friends
why is it a perfectly charming evening can be disrupted by the actions of one cocktard?
one moment it's all champagne, cucumber sandwiches, a friend's hen's do, eating cock with a local arts maven (plus ro and e from the previous week's frolics) and trading anecdotes on mediterranean swearing with another new friend, the next you're picking through your own gender politics, frantically trying to figure out if it's okay to knock some venomous dwarf's teeth through the back of her angry neck.
isn't it always the way?
disclaimer: i use the term dyke advisedly. anyone who knows me well will be aware of my solid awareness of queer politics, both personally and theoretically. i have many gay, bi and lesbonic friends and acquaintances and, thankfully, they're all of the strain who try - precisely because of their own experiences of marginalisation and intolerance - not to pre-judge people at first meetings. i understand that anger and militancy are stereotypes often unfairly appended to 'unattractive lesbians' in particular, and more broadly as a general category.
i never do this; i judge people (if at all) on their actions, how they appear to engage with the world and whether or not the sum of their passion and compassion (claimed, implied or otherwise) is manifested in their observable behaviour.
this chick was just a fucking cunt-axe of the lowest order.
picture: i am minding my own business, having a wonderfully buoyant conversation with some newly acquainted friends of my lovely, who happens to be sitting down the other end of a long trestle on the rooftop deck at madame brussels. for those who haven't been, it's a sweet place, with a kitschy, faux garden party aesthetic happening (inside, mind you; astroturf, white garden furniture etc) and all were having a quite mildly raucous good time. so the host sidles up to me, gestures towards her loveliness and what can only be described as 'herve villechaize with a vagina', deep in not-entirely-comfortable conversation.
hostie: "hey r, you might wanna go over there and rescue e."
me: "really? what, from the tufty gnome in the ill-fitting bad suit? i'm sure e can look after herself."
hostie: [raising an eyebrow] "mmm, i know. but this one's a wild one."
me: "hmm, well. here they come [as e makes a rapid exit from that table back to ours]. sure it's all fine."
poisonous leprechaun saunters over, hot on the delectable e's heels. introductions and small talk ensue. at this point we are getting along fine.
gollum de generes: *something inaudible* very hot woman. great tits, don't you agree?"
me: [amused] "but of course, they are mighty fine."
gollum: "i'll bet they feel as good as they look" [slides hand inside e's top, under the bra, obviously going the full grope, yet making eye contact with me, challenging.]
me: "do you really think that's cool?" [trying not to give fuckarse de rossi the rise she so clearly wants. e is calm, not reacting. much.]
e: "your hands are a bit cold... [now getting more exasperated] and would you mind a little less nipple action, thanks?"
me: "hey, that's out of line..."
e: "r, don't worry about it, it's okay. just leave it."
i attempt to turn back to my conversation with the others, trying not to overhear e negotiating this homonculus' (unwanted, please remember) hand off her boob, as if she should need to, and am doing a good job of pretending to be cool with all of it until i hear:
xena the warrior hobbit: "why, because i'm bold enough to do it? [turns to e]. he's just a straight guy, he doesn't know how to touch a woman. don't worry about him. he's just a typical, repressed, uptight straight guy."
this, after having known me for two seconds. needless to say (but this is me...) the veracity of this claim is, at best, highly questionable...
i won't write what i spat at her, only because my parents (and some younger rellies who are probably already scarred for life) also read this, and might be a bit shocked. it was enough to make ani di fucko pipe down for half a second.
after dinner bint: "you see [smug smile]. typical straight guy, can't handle..."
me: [as calmly as i can manage, given that, if she were a feller, she would've been gargling her molars by now] "look, i'm not pissed because you're handling 'my woman', i don't fucking think of her as my possession in any sense. i'm angry because what you just did was socially inappropriate; you've made EVERYONE sitting here feel uncomfortable - it's simply fucking RUDE, okay? it's just poor fucking manners, and even though she is being cool about it, frankly i think you fucking owe her an apology."
an assortment of shouting, everyone in my corner and this one little turd trying to bash me into the box she'd built before finding out ANYTHING about me at all.
enter host, politely but forcefully frogmarching our toad with the 'wandering pads' off to cool down. thank you, hostie.
the upshot of all this?
look, i've negotiated vast amounts of sapphic traffic in my time; you can't be involved with the performing arts without encountering it, never mind having some of your closest friends go through their whole 'coming out' arc in the time you've traversed with them, from being kids to growing into mature functional relationship participants. as some of my companions observed, the viciousness with which this particular soapboxing lesbian set-up the scenario (she had earlier bragged to e about her penchant for/skill at 'turning straight women' - thereby fetishing the resistant heterosexual gal in EXACTLY the same way ignorant young het males often fetishise lesbian subjects in the context of porn - the 'i'm man enough to turn you' phenomenon) was such that it was obvious she'd intended deliberately to push my buttons.
she did. but not the one she expected. what shat me was not her actions but her purpose - she went out, much like over-testosteroned guys do, *spoiling for a stoush*, but her kind of stoush rather than the direct physical sort. it's almost laughable that what triggered my anger was not someone fondling my date (who can totally take care of herself), but rather being underestimated, misread, presumed so much like a class of person i quite proudly consider myself wholly distanced from. i have actually made a concerted effort throughout my adult years, and in both academic and normal daily life, to better understand the politics of difference and challenge bad faith in bigotry and prejudices wherever i see them. she could not have offended me more in suggesting my ignorance (of sexuality, difference or anything else) had she never even laid a hand on my companion.
i guess i owe her for proving my theory that there are only two kinds of people in the world: decent folks and fuckwits. gay, straight, black, white, what the fuck ever - if you don't fall into the happy half of that first and most important social categorisation, be prepared to be told. i had to wrestle with the fact that, had this event occurred with a man in her place, pacifist or not, my will to violence/direct physical action would most certainly have been triggered. not because e is 'mine', not because she couldn't or wouldn't do it herself, but because the disproportion of physical strength on the one side would - for me - vindicate a morally questionable action on the other. (although defence of self and those one cares about is, conceivably within certain contexts, not the same thing as violence...).
ultimately it was but a speed-bump on an otherwise barmy, lovely night; caught up with other lovelies, watched the reds beat west ham 2-1 (sorry any west ham fans, but that agger strike was magic, you must concede...) and went home with my fondled to an even barmier lie-in.
unleash the foulest stream of invective you like at me if i ever ire you, just don't ever call me a 'typical man'. and shove 'repressed' and 'uptight' straight up your (un-lubed) jacksie while you're at it. there are some tags i won't wear comfortably.
ps. cracker (if you wind up reading this), sorry if you feel i've lambasted your mate too harshly. i'm sure in other contexts she's fine, but on friday she was about as appealing as a fart-flavoured chupa chup.
Posted by reuben at August 28, 2006 12:58 PM
Comments
farts have flavours? christ.
i didn't call you, no. i also didn't finish my assignment, get a pitch done, and other lesser and greater things. when the heat dies off towards the end o' this week, i'll bloody well have a chin-wag with you.
okay,
m
Posted by: marty at August 28, 2006 6:38 PM
And you, quite clearly, fall into the category of 'decent folks'...even if you are a typical straight man who has no idea how to touch a lady.
x
e.
Posted by: elaine at August 29, 2006 12:58 AM
i was with you until you blasphemed. ANI DI FUCKO? you wash your mouth out, young man. there's no need to take it out on the one woman who could have turned me. assuming she'd come out of the soundcheck at the fly by night and found me blushingly untying anf retying my shoelaces. o, what could have been...
anyway. arsehats are arsehats are arsehats, to paraphrase another sapphic lovely. she sounds vile and uncouth. i mean, she hadn't even warmed her hands. tut. i am intrigued by the gender politics of not physically fighting someone for the sole reason of their sex, though...
by the way, was it a balmy lie-in or were there monkies?
x
Posted by: clara of bow at August 29, 2006 3:56 AM
c,
you know my lie-ins, c – both barmy and balmy...
look, ani di f has her moments with an acoustic geetar and lyrically, she can be stone cold awesome (and you know i rate *some* of her stuff). don't rain on my interesting lesbonic insults parade. i was just doing variations on a theme. how you been, stranger?
e,
i would pay that if it were coming from a 'lady'. and i know better...
: )
r
Posted by: rubydoomsday at August 29, 2006 6:30 AM
Deserved criticism Ruby, I feel terrible that such a thing happened. What a right royal pain in the ass. I have no excuses and only hope that it doesn't make you think twice about accepting another invite from me!
Posted by: Ladycracker at August 29, 2006 9:58 AM
We all know who obviously knows how (not to mention WHEN) to touch who and who clearly DOESN'T.
What a fucker.
And worse, not only did she impose on E AND You, she interrupted, nay, TERMINATED, our conversation, which was wonderfully enjoyable and creative.
AND THAT IS SIMPLY UNFORGIVABLE IN MY BOOK.
Posted by: sublime-ation at August 29, 2006 10:48 PM
When will these midget lesbian sexual terrorists ever learn? I ask you. [Question mark is the giveaway.]
Posted by: Anthony at September 2, 2006 12:31 AM
It was a seriously cocktardly act. I was shocked.
Herve Villechaize with a vagina?
BAHAHAHA!!
Posted by: Rowena at September 11, 2006 10:45 PM