Confessions.of.a.NYC.Lezie

Today is absolutely gorgeous in NYC. It’s a little chilly but perfect for a light jacket or a sweater. What I don’t understand is the outfit ladies chose to wear in this kind of weather. I swear once it hits 55 degrees, you can bet on finding little broads in skimpy little minis and what I call lingerie tops prancing around in the city– I kid you not. They take every opportunity to dress like whores when it isn’t even close to being summer but to them it feels like a million degrees.

On the other hand, I went to my dentist during my lunch break. Usually I cab it –I’m on 57th on the west side and he is on 63rd on the East side. Since today is fab, I decided to walk along 5th Avenue, and up Park Avenue. The ladies on that side of the island are gorgeous, slim, Louis and Prada in tote, they walk as though they owned the city. My eyes widen as much as they could but I felt a little out of place. Although I did look great in my leopared print pumps with my skinny jeans, which by the way, I had the hardest time getting into (It might be my period coming) sunglasses a la Jackie O and a killer Burb coat. Still, I had a hard time fitting in.

I weaved through the mob of tourist taking pictures of the window display of Chanel (really who does that?) and landed right in front of a very good looking, tall business/model guy named Charles – somehow I managed to grab his name/voluntarily (I swear) gave me his number while he lit his cigg with MY lighter. He is the biggest fag I’ve ever seen and I guess my lesbionic scent overwhelmed the NYC brisk air and yes, we are having drinks next week.

So I left Charles behind and headed towards 63rd. While walking abruptly and dangling a parliament on the left side of my lip, because I was already 3 minutes late, I overheard this conversation.

Girl 1: I can’t believe last night, you dirty little whore!
Girl 2: He had the most amazing looking schlong. And for a Jew, he was pretty well trimmed in that area.
Girl 1: you mean, they don’t shave?
Girl 2: not everyone is like your Madison boy toy.
Girl 1: Gross. Mental, mental picture. Ewww I just pictured it!

For a second, I thought I was going to vomit but then again, I was on Park Avenue, and Ladies who lunch, dine, live on Park don’t vomit – unless they are in the privacy of their own bathroom. It isn’t lady like I tell ya.

This is one of those entries where you just wonder how on earth did I come up with that title. Simple: I’m gay, I like women but I don’t like 12 year olds look-a-likes who act like men. There, I said it.

Of my many dating experiences and from what I have seen with my friends’ relationships (for research purposes only, I swear!) I can conclude one thing; not all femme lezies like the bois (gay term: girls who look like little boys). Obviously not me. I don’t discriminate though. It is simply a preference. I like girls who can sport sneakers but can juggle a pretty lacey black dress and stilettos.

I’ve gone out several times to the local hot spots of the lezies in NYC – Hens, Nations and lots of straight bars where girl on girl action is a top entry prize for the men in expensive suits and lots of cash in their back pockets. But at Hens or Nations, if you looked around, you’d notice the most famous trend; a feminine young lady with a dyke (not such a nice reference to the community but that’s what they are). It doesn’t bother me. So I scan my surroundings and there, a belted waist, skinny jeans and pumps lingers around for her first drink.

There are lots and lots of pretty things, some femmes, some dykes, some butch (ugh, I said that word) some androgynous and others who won’t classify themselves as anything. I’ve seen and found some of the bois cute, adorable (but that’s what I would say to my 12 year old brother).

Boxer wearing, beater bearing, sports bras holders and jeans camouflaging their natural curves, men looking bodies and hairy, razor cut army weight lifters to the extreme wannabe women; those are the ones prancing around the village.

And the…

Boogie (bourgeoisie) ladies, fashion[istas], stilettos, cab riders, make-up lovers, Pilates expertise, sutra lovers and not strap it on and ride a cow[boi] (well actually, that’s exciting) shavers and pretty locks to run your fingers through, mature poise and self diligence, intellectually stimulating, restaurant hoppers, fine dining and wine connoisseur, culturally diverse (eating at a different restaurant doesn’t make you cultured) and the Bette’s look-a likes are uptown.

I’m a Bette kinda gal not a Papi kinda dyke, I don’t like Shane and but I do love Helena.

So I go uptown with my feminine ladies and go downtown with my dykes. I have friends of all sorts, I love my dykes and my butch lezie friends, I wouldn’t trade them for anything, but my feminine ladies are set on a pedestal and are only taken out to ravage the straight bars uptown.

Bois are cute and fun but femmes are hot.

I’ve been guilty though, I will admit… I sported my comfy jeans and sweatshirt to the bar quite a few times. But it is one of those, hmmm its fun to dress like that moments.

It doesn’t make me a closeted dyke but a diverse lezie.

Trust me.

I wanted a change. I.e. start a new blog...

I want to start off with a complete new blog; with the same concept of course: girl meets girl, girl gets drunk and parties (too much), girl giving other girls tricks of my trade (for your own interpretation please) girl breaking hearts and gluing them back. but really, I want to start off with a complete carte blanche without feeling guilty because I offended someone. I can utterly write about my degenerative misadventures so you can enjoy them while you are at work or home because you don't have a life.

So, I am starting a new blog and telling everyone about it because we all know how much of an attention whore I am. Leave comments. It makes me feel good and because you want to.