Butchie -- me?!
Semi-annually (or more often if there's a problem), I get to deploy my butchie side, such as it is...
Joanne loves our 20' Bayliner, but though she a butch in so many ways, she goes all femme on me when it comes to hauling it around. So I drive the "truck," an old Isuzu 4-wheel-drive that's our tow vehicle. And I haul the boat out of the basin where it lives for the summer. And I take care of a lot of related shit -- a good 4 hours out of my Saturday.
All of which work is now done, for my part -- the mechanic is "winterizing" the engine and out-drive. So there's a half-hour to have coffee in the snack bar overlooking the marina, contemplate my diverse sins (buying a fucking boat, for one!) -- and scribble something for you adorable readers.
Every time I haul the boat to/from its winter storage, I seem to ponder my butchie side. It used to have a sexual component -- I've spanked a few lovers, commanded the bondage scene, and some other edgy stuff -- but for nearly a decade Joanne domm'ed ME, to my delight! Now, boy-stuff is limited to occasional ratty-jeans/flannel-shirt -- and the boat.
I mean, hell, I'm a self-respecting femme and subbie -- a delicious choice (if, indeed, it is as choice -- being a lesbian is NOT a choice, but a need that I once resisted, futilely!). I guess I resent the non-sexual "masculine" stuff I have to do.
Postscript: it's a few hours later, I'm back home, and I just re-read this post. A bit silly -- to "resent" feeling un-feminine, just because I need to work a bit on something that provides fun for us. Joanne got me a glass of beaujolais nouveau, and we're watching the changing leaves out in the back garden -- through the protecting windows, given the 50-degree temperature this afternoon. (Oh, yeah, didn't mention that aspect of maneuvering a boat out of water, fucking COLD water!)
Joanne loves our 20' Bayliner, but though she a butch in so many ways, she goes all femme on me when it comes to hauling it around. So I drive the "truck," an old Isuzu 4-wheel-drive that's our tow vehicle. And I haul the boat out of the basin where it lives for the summer. And I take care of a lot of related shit -- a good 4 hours out of my Saturday.
All of which work is now done, for my part -- the mechanic is "winterizing" the engine and out-drive. So there's a half-hour to have coffee in the snack bar overlooking the marina, contemplate my diverse sins (buying a fucking boat, for one!) -- and scribble something for you adorable readers.
Every time I haul the boat to/from its winter storage, I seem to ponder my butchie side. It used to have a sexual component -- I've spanked a few lovers, commanded the bondage scene, and some other edgy stuff -- but for nearly a decade Joanne domm'ed ME, to my delight! Now, boy-stuff is limited to occasional ratty-jeans/flannel-shirt -- and the boat.
I mean, hell, I'm a self-respecting femme and subbie -- a delicious choice (if, indeed, it is as choice -- being a lesbian is NOT a choice, but a need that I once resisted, futilely!). I guess I resent the non-sexual "masculine" stuff I have to do.
Postscript: it's a few hours later, I'm back home, and I just re-read this post. A bit silly -- to "resent" feeling un-feminine, just because I need to work a bit on something that provides fun for us. Joanne got me a glass of beaujolais nouveau, and we're watching the changing leaves out in the back garden -- through the protecting windows, given the 50-degree temperature this afternoon. (Oh, yeah, didn't mention that aspect of maneuvering a boat out of water, fucking COLD water!)