The boring coming out

I really enjoy Hannah Hart’s My Drunk Kitchen, and I watch a few of her other videos. I recently watched her Coming Out Part 1 and Part 2.

Is it silly I feel a little bad that my coming out story is so boring? I know someday I would like to write a memoir (who doesn’t?), and that should be included. I don’t know what to write about it. I didn’t have any crisis about who I am, the people in my family I care about didn’t care, or did a really good job pretending they didn’t care. My friends didn’t care. The most difficult part was convincing anyone I was gay, because I’m femme so for the first few years I got that very irritating “You’re too pretty to be gay”. By the way, that’s one of the dumbest things I’ve ever heard.

The people who had issues with me being gay said dumb things that should have insulted me, but instead I just thought they were insane. I came out when I was 17, which was in 1997, in Mesa, Arizona. This is not exactly the most progressive area. I then went (very stupidly) to a private christian college (I’m not christian either, double trouble). To say I got some shit for being gay would be an understatement. The upside? I was raised by a hippie and a biker. I learned to be completely insane and be ok with who I was, even if I didn’t know who the hell that person was.

Here are the most tumultuous parts of coming out for me:

I am always coming out. I don’t do it vocally anymore, there aren’t any “oh, I’m gay by the way” confessions. Because you confess things that you’re ashamed of, or feel are wrong. I don’t. I talk about my girlfriend and use all those words because its normal to me. If someone needs to be eased into it, that’s their problem, not mine.

I dated boys and girls in high school. I slept with both too. I had a very crazy sex life for a high schooler. When I finally figured it out, after what I felt was plenty of experimentation, I had just as much trouble convincing girls I was gay, as I did boys.

I got kicked out of that private college for being gay. Not just that, but I wouldn’t apologize for it, or “renounce” it, or try to not be gay. My girlfriend at the time did. That was shitty. I was more upset about that than being kicked out of school.

Last, I spent several years trying to figure out how to “be gay”. I don’t mean sex. I mean my horrifying attempt at not being femme. I had no idea. Mesa is not a big place, I didn’t know that you didn’t have to be butch to be a lesbian. Someone should make that known. Same that you don’t have to be femme either. Be whatever. But all the lesbians I knew were butch, so I just figured thats how it worked. I’m over that now. Thank the gods.

Thats the bulk of my coming out. So wake up now if it was too boring. Go look at a few of my puppet pics for the beginning of my puppet project.

New Story: A Bad Way

Graphic adult material is contained here. You must 18 years of age to read the story linked here. If you are below 18 years of age, please click here

Otherwise, please enjoy this erotic story. I commend you for choosing to read erotica as opposed to watching it, as reading is something that is truly a sexy hobby. Please feel free to leave comments on the stories. Most of them will be of a lesbian and/or trans variety. If this is not your slice of pie, feel free to wander to other areas of the site. Thank you again for your support!!

 

New Story: A Bad Way

She knew, at night, sitting alone in her apartment, she knew something was wrong. She would do anything to distract herself, read, watch TV, chat rooms, even meticulously clean. Anything to keep her wall up, the facade that got her through everyday life. She always felt different, her desires a betrayal of the strict feminist teachings that she embraced and idolized at college. This feeling drove her crazy, sickened by the cravings of total submission, objectification, rough and painful sex, all against everything she believed. Her life was going exactly as planned, on track in every way. She had what most dreamed of, perfect career, a home, friends, although she was alone she felt content with her successful life. She had a life her feminist role models would applaud her for. Inside she was ashamed, she admitted her thoughts to no one, these things were the reason she was always alone. She kept her walls up, determination to have her “perfect” life drove her through each day. Very little could console her when the walls did come down, or some detour distracted her from her path. Those were the nights she lost all control.

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Attack of the Spider (Not really)

This just happened, and I have to hurry up and write about it before it stops being funny. Our roommate Ashley just came running out of the bathroom saying something about a spider being in there. She’s fairly butch, and my girlfriend is really butch. I am so very very girly and femme. I have no fear of spiders at all, and they both are completely terrified of them. Any spider, no matter how small.

Ashley: “Spider, there’s a spider in there. Its a giant spider!”
Me: “What? There’s a spider in the bathroom?”
Ashley: “Yes! Its a big spider!”
Me: “What kind is it?”
Ashley: “I don’t know. Its huge.”
Me: “Okay, where is it?”
Ashley: Standing in the hallway, far from the bathroom. “Its in there, in a toilet paper roll!”
Me: “What? In a toilet paper roll? Where?” I go into the bathroom, there are several empty toilet paper rolls on the floor, and a pair of my flip flops.
Ashley: “In there” Carefully pointing to the one roll furthest from the others.

I pick up the roll, and a daddy long legs in hanging out in the end of it. He’s about 1 inch in diameter including legs, so about average for a daddy long legs, light brown, and fairly whispy looking. I pick carry the empty roll with the spider near the front door, in the dark. Now we’re moving, and the spider decides to go for a walk. He climbs up my right arm, and I lose track of him. I finally get to the front door where the living room light switch is. I’m laughing because his little legs are tickly, and because I can hear Ashley and Dianne freaking out in our bedroom.

Me: “I’ve lost track of him.” Switch on the light. “I can’t find him. Come help me look!”
Ashley and Dianne yell back a chorus of no’s and swear words.
Me: “Oh, here he is! Its just a daddy long legs, its ok!” I found him on my left arm. I’ve now unlocked the door to take him out front. In doing so, I lost him again. He was very hard to see in the first place.
Me: “I lost him again! Help me look for him!”
Ashley and Dianne are yelling various forms of no back at me.
Me: “I think he’s on my face, or my head! I can’t find him. If you don’t help me he’ll be lost in here forever!”
Still, no response or help comes.
Me: “Oh wait I found him again!” He was hanging out on my shoulder. I put him in my hand and closed my fingers around him so he can’t get away. His legs are dancing around in there, very ticklish. I put him near a bush in front of the house and come back in.

I walk into our bedroom to find Ashley standing on the trunk at the end of our bed, and Dianne is huddled under a blanket. I tell them I put him out front.

Me: “I thought I lost him, or that he was on my face, but he was on my shoulder”
Ashley: “I was worried he would get on my feet” Still on top of the trunk by the way.
Dianne: “Oh good, cause the first thing I thought was ‘I’m gonna miss her face’”
Me: “He’s out front, he’s gone now. It was just a daddy long legs.”
Dianne: “He’s going to climb over the house to get in the back!”
Me: “No he’s not”

Ashley finally got down and went back to her room. I told her I have no idea how she’s going to live in Australia.