Pronouns are my friends

I, we, they; it. All have worked my way into my sentences lately. Pronouns are my friends. It’s not that I’m ashamed or embarrassed to have Elizabeth as a girlfriend. Uh…girlfriend? That takes on a whole new meaning for me. It’s just that I’m scared of what people will think of me and how they will react and judge me. Or maybe I’m scared of me? Where am I headed? Damn, why do I like her so much?
For instance, when I get roses at work; they are signed,”E”. Now, I let people at work think what they like.
“Oh, so who is this ‘E’?,”one of my peers asked.
So I said,”Oh, it is the person I am seeing. They are great,” I say before I knew what what is coming out of my mouth.
“The person? They?” he responded. “Well, he is very lucky and he knows how to treat a gal,” he said.
But at no time did I tell him that ‘E’ was a girl. Is that wrong?
I told one of my friends out of work that I was seeing a girl, “Ruby, you are the straightest person I know,” she responded. “You must be kidding. There is no way. You are confused and this thing is a phase and a friendship. Have you thought about getting back together with…”
No. This is more than a friendship, but I just don’t know how to tell someone that mostly because it seems that most people don’t believe me. I say most.
I had to talk to Cindy, dare I say my ex-….friend. Not really, but she gets me.
“No fucking way. I knew it” she declares. “High school. I had you pegged,” she says.
“All right. Shut up,” I say. “What the fuck is this? I hate myself. I can’t tell anyone who I am or what I’m going through. Its awful and great at the same time. Its like I have a secret I’ve been keeping from everyone for years and years and didn’t know about it. This isn’t the way I felt in high school.”
“Maybe,” Cindy started. “Maybe, just, maybe that’s what you have been doing?But, and I hate to say it, because I’m fantastic, BUT, I wasn’t right and she is.”
“Maybe,” I started. “Maybe, I’m just over-analyzing this whole mess like I always do and I should end it all,” I said.
“Is that what you really want?” she asked.
“No and yes. I don’t know. It’s like I don’t know what I am or want anymore. One minute I’m wanting something stable and the next moment I’m in the most unstable relationship I could be in. Right?” I asked.
” Ruby,” Cindy said. “What is unstable about this? Because it’s a girl? That’s bullshit.”
“You’re right. I’m afraid of nothing or something. Why can’t I tell people? I think my employer will fire me and my friends will hate me and my family will disown me? I hate this.”
“Welcome to my world,” Cindy said.
“What happened to my pronoun use. I liked using he and she,” I said. – Ruby

Auf Weidersehen Doubt

Here I sit in an armchair in my hotel room at Hotel Savoy in Munich, feet up on the windowsill, coffee in one hand, wearing nothing but a merlot shade of toenail polish.  It has been an amazing two weeks and I am learning so much about the world and my role within it.

Gemma and I made our way through Eastern Europe; gluvine in Prague, Sacher Torte and underground dance clubs in Vienna.  There was the beautiful, sunny day when I felt the inexplicable, dark, silent pain which one can experience only when visiting Auschwitz-Birkenau.  Four days ago she and I sat on the bank of the Spree River in front of the Berlin Wall’s East Side Gallery before we both headed to the airport; she to catch a flight home and I to rent a car and begin my Autobahn adventure. She could tell my mind was drifting…

Gemma:  “Are you sure you can drive manually down the Autobahn  if I give you a 15 minute crash course?”

Frankie:  “Perhaps this isn’t the best idea, I should really spring for the automatic. Cooper tried teaching me when I was last in Brissy (or Brisbane, Australia).” [Smiling at the memory]   “I didn’t do so well.” [Smile Fading]

Gemma:  “Don’t do it Frankie.” [softly shaking her head]

Frankie:  “What…don’t do what??” [nervously laughing]

Gemma:  “You did the right thing…leaving him.  It would have only become more severe if you returned to Brisbane.”

Frankie:  “Fine, point taken.  You have to stop or I am going to cry.”  [Too late as tears begin to stream]

Gemma:  “There shouldn’t have been a first time.  He should have never raised a hand to you!! You said the first time was a jab to the ribs…and then the second…harder than that first punch.  If you didn’t break it off then there would have been a ninth, sixteenth and then one day, you know what would happen one day.  And then of course, I would have to avenge you by killing him.”

Frankie:  [Wiping away the tears] “I know, thanks Gemma.  Thank you for being such a great friend.  And it is so comforting to know that I can enlist you as a hit woman!”  [Now we were both laughing]

Truly…I felt free, so free.  After seeing region after region where inhumane acts and crimes imprisoned so many for so many years, I felt grateful.  Grateful for my personal freedom; freedom to control this life–leave when I want, and know that I will fight for that which I deserve.

I now look over at the bed where James’ rests, so peaceful and beautiful, and know that this is the perfect ending to my European adventure.  My flight to London leaves later today and I will spend the evening with an old college friend before returning to NYC.

James rolls over and sleepily asks me to return to bed, in that thick, masculine accent.  I slide into his arms; strong, solid warm embrace.  His body molds to my form and we slide into a cozy, warm slumber. –Frankie

Share your dating stories

Hey there:

It’s fun sharing our dating disasters with you. Now we want your stories. We would like to post another Loser Alert (AKA share those names and pics of losers you have dated to warn others ) or share some stories that you may have in mind (unnamed stories). Please leave us a comment Frankie and I will work you into our blog.- Ruby

A new kind of love

Elizabeth and I weren’t exclusive, but we were together almost all the time. Well it felt like that anyway, and it felt good to be back in the non-disastrous dating mode.

There were still a lot of things I was unsure about like was I gay? Here I was dating a woman so I must be somewhat gay, right? If so, did I have to tell people?! Luckily, Frankie was cool with it.

Dating a woman was a lot like dating a man except Elizabeth was really attentive. I mean, really. I got roses, we went for dinner, and she knew when something was bothering me and wouldn’t let me shrug it off.

There were also lots of weird questions I had to face like was I a good date (cough) bedroom-wise? Everything seemed brand new and exciting. I felt kind of like an adolescent making out for the first time. But I was still unsure if this was the right thing for me.

Well this past week dating Elizabeth took a new turn. She asked me to help her with a protest against Proposition 8. It was for the Gay and Lesbian Center in NYC.  We made signs that said things like, “No more Mr. Nice Gay.” and “Love is Love” and marched to the Mormon Church on Tuesday on Saturday we went to City Hall.

It was exciting. So many people standing up for their love and the right to love each other. These were families with children, the elderly, long-term couples, and twenty and thirty-somethings. Somehow everything felt right and we were making history. Fighting for the Civil Rights denied to them because of who they were loving. That’s not very Dante-like, Christian, or American. It’s just ignorant.

My feelings for Elizabeth were definitely a little more than like, but I was adamant about moving slow, and she was being patient. It was refreshing.

After the protest we were having a beer at a little dive bar called Cubbyhole with some of her friends and they asked about, “us.” “US!” and then Elizabeth called me her girlfriend. I blushed, embarrassed, uncertain of myself and flattered. Then she gave me a kiss and looked into my eyes and I felt light headed. I knew I was falling head over heels. - Ruby

Give Me Something To Believe In

I woke last Friday to find Ruby sitting on the couch, watching the morning news, and joined her after pouring a massive cup of black coffee.  We sat and discussed the events of the evening prior.  I knew that Ruby had hooked up with girls in the past and if she found one who could treat her in the manner which she deserves, then who cares if they did not include certain equipment; certainly not I.  After offering my blessing for much love, hot sex, and a mutual agreement designating the couch as a no fly zone, I was off to begin my day.

I had so many issues to address before leaving on my flight to Berlin that evening.  I submitted my absentee ballot a few weeks ago, now had to pack, and take my grandmother to the doctor.  She has been coughing quite a bit lately; I thought it was simply an upper respiratory infection, though she could probably use something stronger than Robutussin.  The doctor suggests viewing the lung via bronchoscopy; though this must take place while I am away…I guess mom can take her.  “Well”, begins Dr. McStupid, “Ms. McNiff, your grandmother is probably fine; this is simply a precautionary measure.  Not a thing to worry about.”  She smiled up at me and I couldn’t help but return a toothy grin.  I brought her home, “Now Grandma, no wild parties with naughty men while I am away!”, I joked.  “Oh ya damn fool, none of them are no damn good anyway!”, she replied, laughing.  I put my hand on her left cheek and kissed her right, grabbed my suitcase and told her that I would return with gifts and captivating tales from across the pond.  I bid adieu to my biggest fan and left for JFK.

One to never shy away from travel, I decided to take this business trip to the next level.  My publication was hosting our Seventh Annual International Innovative Architecture & Design Forum  beginning Saturday and ending Tuesday evening with our Avant-Garde Ball, during which, we honored the most innovative artists of the industry.   Though of course, I couldn’t stop there…I had to meet my Aussie friend Gemma for a naughty holiday and planned to extend my stay in Europe for an additional two weeks; partying jet-setter style.   We stayed two evenings at Lux Eleven, located in the middle of Berlin and fine, perhaps a bit posh, though we are worth it. 

Tuesday was incredibly exciting and action packed.  Our event was a success and Gemma was grateful that I brought her as my date and partner in crime.  Though the number of available men at this function was limited, I am a loyal friend and will share the spoils with my dearest.  As Gemma chatted up a handsome Brazilian dude, I waited at the bar for a second tasty martini.  Turning to make my way to my friend, I froze in place as I was met by one of the more beautiful sights of the evening.  “Good evening beautiful.” said the tall, brown haired gentleman with the Aussie accent and piercing blue eyes that rivaled the waters which surround Grand Turk.  “Please allow me to introduce myself; the name is James…James Michaelson.”  “Frances McNiff”, I replied, as he gently kissed my extended hand.  Why did I not feel the need to refer to myself as Frankie?  James and I walked around the ballroom of the Hotel Adlon and for a moment I forgot that I was working and had to return to my duties.  I explained that I wanted to check the status of the election at home after the event ended.  He expressed interest in this as well and we agreed to meet under the Brandenburg Gate then head over to Potsdamer Platz in search of a bar with a television. 

The moment I wished the final guests goodnight, signed necessary paperwork and found Gemma we walked over the Brandenburg Gate; seems that she suggested the same meeting place to her man from Ipanema.  Our quartet failed in our mission to find a bar where we would have access to any progress of the U.S. election, though we did manage to find an amazing lounge along the perimeter of the square–it was too early for anything important to be revealed, therefore we did the only reasonable thing we could do–become better acquainted with our respective men.  

I told James that I would drive along the Autobahn down to Munich in a week or so and he revealed that he would travel down around the same time as well to visit some friends from college.  After discussing James’ plans to move to London from Melbourne for two years and my life in New York, we shared a sweet, butterfly arousing kiss.  He and Joao walked Gemma and I to our hotel, in the early twilight hours as people began gathering outside of the bars, which we overlooked earlier during our search.  Amazingly, these people were Obama/Biden supporters CELEBRATING in Berlin!  What a great moment to be an American, an American traveling abroad…to again be proud…and hopeful.  In a land where it was said that the “rubble women” rebuilt their beloved and broken city brick by brick following World War II, I stood in a square with friends, strangers, though all with a common hope for a brighter future, much brighter than when we woke this morning.   In this group, a group of travelers from around the globe, local Berliners and Americans we shared this hope; it is in this hope that we all believe.  James took me in his arms and as he clutched me to his body swinging me around whispered, “Congratulations Frances”.

As I now look out the window of the bus, listening to The Killers’ “All These Things That I’ve Done”, I take in the German landscape and consider how much can change in only one week…change I can believe in.  -Frankie