Bitch....!
Mar. 13th, 2026 10:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
geosynonymsCut for talk about alcohol, slurs, and slight suggestive talk
.
Had to get new clothes today, sucked. Got invited to an event last minute and went shopping with my mother (on vacation, she owns the car). I already shaved everything this week for her, after months of not. She requested I do it again and told me I had a pooch. Or, a bit of fat. No shit, I have been to the bar weekly for a year and a half. I have 20 pounds more on me. It's sexy. I like my pooch. My girlfriend thinks its sexy.
Grandmother apparently had a dream that I "didn't shave for a year". Bad dream, apparently. Too bad it is true. Anyway, had clothes after half an hour of hell. Went to event. People were boring. I tried. Do not think they knew how to hold a conversation. Rich white people, too. On boats and in fancy houses. You'd assume they'd know how to converse with someone. Apparently not. Got shitfaced drunk instead. Not really, I don't drink enough to get shitfaced. But whatever they mixed me kept me drunk for five, six hours. Got it at 2pm, sobered up around 8pm. Ate a fuck ton of food. Set sticks on fire. People assumed I was my friends (cishet man) girlfriend. I about bit them over it. They were the kind of men to love to say slurs. Got asked what my favorite slur was. Would have answered DYKE if the conversation did not move on so quickly (the joke was them asking me about it, not my answer). Probably won't go back to them, but at least free bottomless alcohol to numb.
Gilles kept control the most of it. Because he knows how to deal with these situations. He doesn't care, he had a good time. He is okay with subpar socialization. That's what he was made for. I am not. I am still pissed off.
Butch treats me a lot better. Thinks I am hot with my hair and fat. Does not as weird ass questions. Lets me dress how I want. I appreciate the butch. The only company I ever want to exist in is around butches and queer women. That is it. (or just queer femininity in general, i guess)
I am home now. Will see butch tomorrow, thank god. Miss being safe. Fuck.
I complain a lot. Not because I am inherently miserable. Good things do not impassion me to write. Unless very good. Like great dinner or lingerie. Perhaps this is bad first introduction. I prefer to not be miserable. However I am easily pissed off by cishets. And I was around them for 12 hours.
Had to get new clothes today, sucked. Got invited to an event last minute and went shopping with my mother (on vacation, she owns the car). I already shaved everything this week for her, after months of not. She requested I do it again and told me I had a pooch. Or, a bit of fat. No shit, I have been to the bar weekly for a year and a half. I have 20 pounds more on me. It's sexy. I like my pooch. My girlfriend thinks its sexy.
Grandmother apparently had a dream that I "didn't shave for a year". Bad dream, apparently. Too bad it is true. Anyway, had clothes after half an hour of hell. Went to event. People were boring. I tried. Do not think they knew how to hold a conversation. Rich white people, too. On boats and in fancy houses. You'd assume they'd know how to converse with someone. Apparently not. Got shitfaced drunk instead. Not really, I don't drink enough to get shitfaced. But whatever they mixed me kept me drunk for five, six hours. Got it at 2pm, sobered up around 8pm. Ate a fuck ton of food. Set sticks on fire. People assumed I was my friends (cishet man) girlfriend. I about bit them over it. They were the kind of men to love to say slurs. Got asked what my favorite slur was. Would have answered DYKE if the conversation did not move on so quickly (the joke was them asking me about it, not my answer). Probably won't go back to them, but at least free bottomless alcohol to numb.
Gilles kept control the most of it. Because he knows how to deal with these situations. He doesn't care, he had a good time. He is okay with subpar socialization. That's what he was made for. I am not. I am still pissed off.
Butch treats me a lot better. Thinks I am hot with my hair and fat. Does not as weird ass questions. Lets me dress how I want. I appreciate the butch. The only company I ever want to exist in is around butches and queer women. That is it. (or just queer femininity in general, i guess)
I am home now. Will see butch tomorrow, thank god. Miss being safe. Fuck.
I complain a lot. Not because I am inherently miserable. Good things do not impassion me to write. Unless very good. Like great dinner or lingerie. Perhaps this is bad first introduction. I prefer to not be miserable. However I am easily pissed off by cishets. And I was around them for 12 hours.
