Additions to the Queer Lexicography: Love The One You’re With Edition

Purse Anchor: I recently went out with three very foxy masculine-of-center gentlemen to a small town gay bar.* It had been awhile since I'd been out in a crew that wasn't made up of many Femmes and in a venue with a delineated dance floor (let alone room to move around easily). Noticing how they moved around the dance floor versus how I moved around the dance floor was really interesting. I was anchored to the ground with my purse and everyone else had way more locomotion. It's a matter of street smarts, I don't leave my purse anywhere out of arm's reach and when I'm on the dance floor I dance next to it. Generally I carry a clutch so that I can dance with it, but when there is a drink in hand I find that just spoils my groove. So the clutch has to get set down.

With well over a decade of nightlife behind me, I've tried many purse permutations for going out. Here's the thing--I don't have pockets nor do I trust pockets with the things I need. And some of those things I need are my camera because I obsessively document my queer fat femme life, my wallet, keys and many different kinds of lipsticks. I used to try the bra pocket with just an id and cash and my housekey but I have bigger needs these days.

Regardless, part of being Femme is not having to make excuses for the girl shit I do. Mama needs a purse anchor.

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Love Snippets

At this point in my life -- where I'm learning how to allow myself to have desires and feelings (about things like kids or family or love relationships) and not censor them before they're even allowed to emerge -- being with someone who's interested in imposing emotional limits from the start is a bad idea.

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