Wednesday, May 25, 2005
Not much to report on
People are clustering in front of the windows of the new Banana Republic on Higuera and peering inside, to see....what? What are these people hoping to discover in this particular Banana Republic? Oh good, they are stocked with khakis. Phew. Now I don't have to shop at the Gap that is all the way across the street, inside a nearly identical shopping plaza. God I am so much better than them.
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May 21, 2005
“Gentlemen and Ladies, good evening, and welcome to tonight’s event. Gathered here in this ring are two of the world’s leading contenders in the fighting world. Weighing in at 100 and None-Of-Your-Business pounds is the reining champion of heartache, Chloe Dove! (applause and cheering- Rah! Raw! Rah!) On my left is the national forerunner of the boxing world, Sexual Identity! (Boos and Hisses and no cheering from the audience. Just boo’s). It is the first round of the match, folks. Are you ready to rummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmble!?!?!??!? (audience applause and happiness and excitement-Yeah! Whoo Yoo Hoo!!)
(The bell dings: DING!)
(A general hush in the audience)
Folks, Chloe Dove has made the first move. She is a brave and conscious soul, marching up against those and that which challenges her. But, Sexual Identity seems to be holding its own. Chloe Dove has just thrown her first punch, right between the eyes of Sexual Identity….Oh my god, Sexual Identity seems to be clutching its chest in pain….No, no, my bad. Sexual Identity has just rammed Chloe Dove into a corner and is sending Chloe Dove into emotional and spiritual confusion! Oh my god, I have never seen anything like this before. Chloe Dove seems to be collapsing and falling upon the throws and throes of Sexual Identity!!!! Good lord!! Chloe Dove, reining champion is now falling hopelessly into despair and misery!!!!!!!!!! Yes, it appears that Chloe Dove will be overcome by Sexual Identity! Sexual Identity seems to be the winner, folks, in just three large and unbelievable catatonic blows to the heart! Folks, we have a new champion in the sport of heartache, Sexual Identity!! (many boos from the audience)….Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome your new ruling victor, Sexual Iden……wait a minute, folks, wait just a god damn minute!! Chloe Dove is getting up!!! Yes, she is! She is standing, and she looks pissed off! Ladies and Gentlemen, this is incredible, Chloe Dove seems to be getting up and yes, yes, she is charging Sexual Identity. Oh my god, she is wrestling with Sexual Identity like she has wrestled with so many other fighters of sorrow before, only this time, you can feel, see, taste the pain it is in claiming her reign! She is doing it, though, folks, she is chewing Sexual Identity up, and yes, yes, she is spitting it on the floor!! Folks, Chloe Dove has overcome Sexual Identity!! Chloe Dove will NOT be defeated, Ladies and Gentemen!! Chloe Dove has once again overcome heartache!!! (HUGE amounts of applause and happiness. Chloe gets her medal and one of those ribbons to wear).”
Yes, it’s me, the Fighter, The Contender, Chloe Dove, and yes, I wrote this short episode about my life. And it’s not easy sharing it here with you, but I think it’s important to show you and everyone who I am and what I’m about and where I’m coming from and going to.
I have no reservations or unbelievable intentions in telling you about my now ex-girlfriend, Lori. She has disearned her right to defend herself in this situation and claim a desire for privacy ever since she broke my heart and confused my soul. What happened was that I fell in love with a girl I work with and the gender didn’t matter, the outside and organs had little to do with the heart inside, and I was prepared for the stares and judgements of a homophobic and close-minded Orange County. I realize it would be easier to be lesbianish in a more tolerant place like Santa Fe or Tallahassee. I realize that now. My time as a lesbian taught me a lot about the fears and beliefs of most people in this world, and now I am more worldly and more jaded for it.
Yes, I met and fell hard for Lori at Baskin Robbins. She’s a new Scooper, and we coincidentally though not hypothetically worked many shifts together. We’d often be alone, closing up shop together till late in the night. Sometimes the sexual tension between us would melt the ice cream. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I wanted to see her topless. I never really liked girls before, not in THAT WAY, but with Lorie, it was different. She told me she was what they call a bi-sexual girl, which means she has a fondness and turn on for both sexes, males and females. Basically, she doesn’t discriminate in the concept of arousal. I realize she told me about her bi-ness because she wanted to find out about me and my life and my decisions and love. I told her about Gerald and about you and me and me and your blogs and all sorts of things that were important to finding out who I am and what I’m about. One day, I saw Lori bend over real far down to scoop some Maui Brownie Madness since it was low, and I saw the tops of her breasts. And I also saw this tattoo on one of the breasts, and it was a Chinese thing. And I asked her what it meant and she asked why I saw her boob. And she smiled at me when she said it, only it was a smile like she was saying I was a bad girl or something. And then she asked me if I was a bad girl or something. And at that moment, I felt like Sandy in the last scene of ‘Grease’ when she wears all spandex and high heels and smokes the cigarette and taunts Danny Zuko with her animal prowess and her sexuality oozes out of her skintightness like a forest fire. And so I told Lori, ‘yes, Lori, I am sort of known as a bad girl. Do you mind?’ and I thought that was a pretty hot and grown-up thing to do and that it would leave her interested and intrigued. And then Lori said ‘oh yeah, so you’re pretty baaaaaaaaaaaad, huh, Chloe? You do bad things that get you in trouble with Mommy and Daddy and make you feel like you’re hot shit, huh, Chloe? Do you?’ I nodded yes. ‘Well, that’s cool.’ Then she proceeded to unbutton three of her polo shirt buttons and show me her tattoo. ‘So, you wanted to see it, right?’ she asked. I said, no, not really, I didn’t care. I thought that was pretty cool of me, to pretend not to care, though I had a bunch of butterflies in my stomach and started to feel weird Down There because by then, Lori was standing really close to me and she’s taller than me and also, like, six years older. I think. Then I could see her bra and her boobs, and her tattoo and it’s not like I haven’t watched my friends change their clothes, or looked at Ronnie’s Playboy’s before, but something weird was going on with these boobs and Lori and this moment. And I was really sweaty. She took my hand and put it on her boob. The one with the tattoo. And I tried to get my hand back and she wouldn’t let me. Then she pretty much kissed me. And her lips were all soft and she smelled like berries and it was better than the 48 guys I’ve kissed before because she had no hair on her upper lip that scratched me and I didn’t taste nasty after shave, and she wasn’t all aggressive or pushy, and she made little moany sounds that sounded like music instead of a pit bull.
So the next five days with Lori as a lesbian were great. We watched one lesbian porn movie at her house. We went into my hot tub together even though she borrowed my bathing suit and didn’t return it. I introduced her to my parents and friends and they didn’t seem to notice I was in love, though I was. Truly. I looked at Lori with puppy dog eyes and drove her everywhere and called her a thousand times a day on her cell phone. We ate at Johnny Rockets and saw ‘Crash’ together, and we spent many hours touching each other above the waist and I named her boobs. I made Lori a mixed burned CD with good songs on it and told her I loved her. I was a real lesbian, and was proud of it, and of my girl.
Then, one day, Lori didn’t show up to work. She didn’t call and didn’t come in. I called her about fifty times and she didn’t return my calls.
Finally, after four days, she came in to get her paycheck, and I asked her where the fuck she had been and why she wasn’t respecting me, and she said some mean things about me trying to be a bad girl with a dirty mouth talking to her like that. And I asked her if I meant nothing to her, and she laughed a little, like a throaty laugh. And I started to cry, and didn’t understand what she was doing and why. She told me, ‘you’re pretty cute, honey, and very strange, but you’re just a baby.’ Then she walked out, with her hair flipping behind her and got into her Corsica and left. And that was it.
I realize now that I was used. I realize also that I might have used her also. I realize that Gerald had hurt me so much and maybe Lori gave me refuge and solace in my life of heartache, and I had no idea she’d contribute further to that. I guess I’m looking for something or someone, and I don’t know what. I don’t know if I really loved Lori or just wanted to touch some boobs. And I don’t know if she’s really a bad person for messing with me. I do know that it’s hard to be a lesbian, because if one of the lesbian partners dies and you’re not married, you don’t get to keep all the stuff from the dead one. And that’s not fair, since that’s how it works for straight people. Also, there’s not really a good lesbian bar in Orange County for people like me to feel safe. The next time a lesbian approaches me and asks me to be her partner, I’m not sure what I’ll do. They might think I’m naïve and inexperienced with gayness, and maybe they’ll be surprised that I’m not. And maybe I should give someone else a chance. But between Gerald and Lori, I don’t really know if I’ll ever love again.
That’s why I wrote this poem:
Lori, Lori, Lori
For all your feminine wiles and glory,
You sure acted mean and whore-y.
Seriously, what’s your story???
You treated me badly and cast me aside.
You acted like you were someone I could confide.
You took me on this emotional ride.
And I’m left her now, all the tears I’ve had, I’ve cried.
You opened the gates to your body and soul.
I never expected to see a big, empty hole.
All I ever wanted to do was treat you with pleasure
And make you my undiscovered buried treasure.
I wanted to tend to your heart like a garden.
I didn’t expect you to curl up and harden.
I could have plucked out the bad stuff, gotten rid of the weeds,
And put in their stead the untainted seeds
Of you and I and me and you.
I would have tended to them through and through.
Wetted them with my own special water;
Quenched their thirst while things got hotter.
I would have kept my hands their till the flowers burst through,
And not stopped until you told me to.
I could have kept going, doing whatever you asked.
Nothing in your garden would be too big a task.
Because to see the pleasure of blooming and growing
Is enough keep me from ever slowing
In making you happy, and exciting you,
Because that’s all I ever really wanted to do.
Until the day you said it wasn’t me you ever liked,
Since you’re a stupid, crazy, lying, sorry excuse for a dyke.
Well, I know all that’s hard to hear and it’s hard for me, too, and I know things look bad now, but it’s nothing we can’t deal with if love means anything at all. Well, I hope everything is ok with you and you haven’t had your heart broken by any homosexuals lately, because, let me tell you, it’s no easy thing.
So, tell me what’s new with you and if you’ve ever had a Meat Lover’s pizza from Pizza Hut.
Your linguistic and likeable though not lazily limited ex-lesbian lexicon, Chloe Dove
Did you have your interview at Pottery Barn yet?
edit: Oh holy shit a huge blast from Chloe.
...wait a second here. Are you really applying for employment at the Pottery Barn? That's pretty gay. (In the seriously homosexual sense.)
I totally wanted to beat off to that, but since Im still sure that Chloe is really Mark Tognazzini I couldnt.
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