I don’t think I’m the only one who doesn’t have a problem picking up butches at a lesbian bar but can’t let the butch she likes know she likes her. Am I?
When I like a butch I revert to my teens. I may be rude (dancing with everyone but her at the Butch/Femme Society’s Butch Femme April Dance, leaving a restaurant saying goodbye to everyone except her, not wanting to sit next to her when a group of us goes to the movies), I may turn stupid (accidentally sending her an email or a text message about her that was intended to go out to one of my friends), and I may act like a psycho (epic email to She Who Shall Remain Nameless anyone?). In other words, I let the 15 year old living inside of me out and I manage to make a complete fool out of…
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The Itinerant 