Wednesday, August 7, 2013

If We Took a Holiday..

[thanks Jenny]


Hiya box-shockers!


Welp, it had to happen sometime.  

After five years of writing this mess without ever taking more than a couple months off, Effing Dykes is going on holiday for awhile. 


I need a little break.  

A little break to recharge my gaydar batteries. 
A little time to reconnect (in real life! wtf!) with what I love most in this world: da queerz

I wanna have less screentime and more facetime, at least for a bit. 

[thanks selina!]

But don't worry, faggettes!  I'll be using this time to figure out where I want to take Effing Dykes in the future—for instance, should this blog become more of an advice column, where queermosexuelles write in and ask the questions burning in their bosoms?  (This is what I'm leaning towards.) 

I mean, should I just write endlessly about the characters from Orange is the New Black

[marry me, Laura Prepon]

Should I make haikus about cute baristas? Should I post once a day, but just really short posts? 

What do you think?  I'd love to know. 

Please write to me at effingdykes@gmail.com whenever you miss me (so, every day?) or when you have an idea for Effing Dykes or when you just want to talk to a seriously opinionated bossy femme dyke about anything, anything at all. 

[it's meeee]

Without getting too gross and sappy, I love you all, and being a tiny part of your internet-lives means more to me than you can know.  


Now, write me, y'allfags, ya hear?

Saturday, June 22, 2013

Experience the Excitement

[thanks! Selina of selinaloper]

Hiya clam-jammers!

What's happening? 

It's a perfect mid-June evening, and I'm sitting here typing this with all the windows open. My hair is air-drying from a bath I took a little while ago, and I have peach iced tea and a bowl full of green grapes and a bunny who desperately, desperately wants one of those green grapes. 


[have a seat, Timmy]

In a few hours, I'm heading off to sit outside with a bunch of lezzies on the patio of a bar that's conveniently located four houses away from mine. 


[thanks Jen and Court - Court smokes pixie stix, apparently]

We're going to drink cheap beer and make filthy dyke jokes and draw penises/dirty shit on every single Snapchat we send to each other. 



Seriously.



Every.




Single.



One.



I fucking love summer. 

Also, because I want to look more muscley in my summer tank tops, I just joined the neighborhood gym this week.  


[s'gonna be me]

Yesterday, I took my first-ever spin class, where I discovered that:

1) spinning is for crazy people and it's so ridiculously hard I doubt Satan himself could get through a 60-minute class—it is not, for some reason, an easy bike-ride class designed to gently and lovingly get you back on the workout train when you haven't been to a gym in a year, and 

2) you should always know how a bike works before you get on it. 



Learn from me, lerbs.

I got to the class a few minutes late and slunk to the last open bike, way in the back of the room. 

Apparently the part of class I missed was the explanation about how to set and lock the customizable seat. 



During the class, as techno music pounded, I crouched waaaay over the handlebars, ass bobbing in the air (so profesh! didn't I look like an experienced biker!), and madly spun the pedals with my toes, giving what the giant muscled instructor called "YOUR MAXIMUM 100% EFFORT!!!", keeping my eyes on the sweating tattooed shoulders of the girl in front of me. 

Just when I was sure I might actually pass out from the pain of my upper thighs bursting into flames, the instructor hollered, "TAKE IT DOWN A NOTCH!", which I took to mean I could sit back down on the seat... except except except the seat wasn't in the spot my ass remembered it being in (the seat wasn't locked, and it had slid way down), so when I tried to sit and instead felt like I was falling into thin air, I panicked and serrrrrrriously overcorrected and ending up falling off the bike sideways so spectacularly that the instructor halted the class to see if I was ok. 

Imagine 20 pairs of eyes belonging to 20 very fit people staring as I wheezed and flopped hysterically around on the floor next to a (stationary) bike. 

Love spinning class.
I'm going again tomorrow.


[thanks Chyna]

Today, just in time for Pride, I thought we'd take a little time and answer one of of the lezsexin' letters that's been cluttering up the
 effingdykes@gmail.com mailbox! 

Y'allfags want to read an earnest babydyke sex question? 


[thanks Rose S]

Of course you do. 

Pervs. 

Ok, here you go:

*This has been edited for clarity and brevity, because it was an all-lowercase-letters novel when I got it.* 

Q: Dear effing dykes author,

I'm what you would call a baby dyke lol, I'm 19 and I always knew I was gay, I've never dated a boy. I have a question for you that is about sex. Do you think a girl would hold it against me if she knew I was pretty inexperienced? (I've had sex before, but only with my ex-girlfriend, and she was the person I lost my virginity to. We weren't together for very long.) Pride is soon, and I was thinking about trying to hook up with a girl I like at a friend's party we're both going to, but she's older than me and I think she's a lot more experienced. I think she likes me tho, she told my friend she did. 

Do you think I should tell her I've only had sex with one other person? Or should I not tell her and just see how things go? If I don't tell her, what if we have sex and I'm not that good because I haven't had much? And how do I know if I'm at least OK if I've only ever slept with one person?

If you get a chance to answer this soon I'd seriously appreciate it, thank you,

Daryn* 

A:  Daryn, darlin', I love this question.  
Welcome to the world of sleeping with queer women—I hope you stretch your trembling new wings in these halcyon days and soar above many lush and dewy valleys as the sun rises over endless mountain ranges of boobs.



But do me a favor first, hunnybun?
Take a nice deep breath and just calm the hell down.

Your letter has the twinge of creeping hysteria towards the end, and there's nothing that spoils the delicious anticipation of possible sex like freaking out about the possibility of having sex.


[thanks Beth W]

First things first: It is totally, totally ok that you feel like you don't have much experience with dyke sex, even though you already had a girlfriend. For that matter, it is totally ok to have zero experience, regardless of whether you think you ought to have it. 

We were all in your shoes once, and we can all (kind of, sort of, in a dim, hazy, fading- memory-type-way) remember what it was like to be brand-new at sex with women.  



Plus, in order to feel "experienced," you have to... get experience. 

It's tricky, no? Kind of like when the job you want badly is the job that requires you to have several years of experience doing that very same job. 

How are you supposed to have experience if no one will give you experience?!


[viaobey-lo]

Everyone ('cept asexual folks and people who don't curr) has to start having sex somewhere. 

But here's the fabulous part: No one who honestly likes you is going to give the tiniest shit that you've "only" slept with one woman. 

Numbers do not matter. 
Numbers couldn't possibly matter less. 

If your crush is into you, I promise that she is not and will not be thinking about whether or not you have "experience." 


[thanks Stephany]

Um, no. 
If she likes you, too, she will probably be thinking about how to get you alone/ask you out/make out with you, not thinking, "Hmm, she's cute, but Can This Woman Please Me Sexually?"


[thanks Sydney H]

I don't know about anyone else, but I don't think I've ever used "experience" as a factor that determines whether I'm going to pursue a crush.

I mean, if my crush quotes Little Britain

Yes.  
That might be a determining factor for me. 



If my crush talks about literary theory in a focused and thoughtful way that makes me picture having that very same discussion with her except naked and in bed?


Yes. 
That might make me babble nervously and then falteringly ask her out. 


[via hypeshit]

But experience?

Nope.  Not important. 


[thanks Iaah and Frances]

Daryn, obvs tell your crush you've "only" slept with one woman if you want to tell her, and if it will make you feel more comfortable.

But keep in mind that firstly, it does not matter, and secondly, you have a powerful tool (heh) in your shexual toolkit that I think is the MOST IMPORTANT THING when it comes to good fuckin', and also has nothing whatsoever to do with learned bedroom skills:

ENTHUSIASM.


[thanks Meg and SB]

Enthusiasm, faggettes! 

Enthuuuuuuusiasmmmmm. 

Enthusiasm for fucking and gettin' fucked is vital in determining whether or not everybody has fun during sex and goes home happy. 

Good sex is not about technical skillz, friends. 


[thanks Marisa M]

Sex can be many things—amazing and beautiful and weird and serious and vulnerable and fun. Daryn, you've (maybe) found someone who might want to do this strange and awesome thing with you! Hooray! 

But sex is not fun for anyone if you're so worried about impressing your partner with sexual know-how that you cease to show them how happy and excited you are to be there with them, in that moment.


[thanks Amma]


Enthusiasm is easy to have and to show, and it matters so much. 

Enthusiasm is not something you have to learn or something you need experience to have. 

You are born with the ability to be excited.



You don't have to have had multiple partners or have had someone "show you the ropes" or to have read how-to books to have a good time in bed with someone. 

You don't need anything at all to have fun in bed, other than an extreme desire to make your partner feel good. 


[thanks Julie L]

If you are excited about sleeping with someone and can't wait to get your filthy mitts all over their hot body, and you show it, your partner is going to feel more confident with you. 

Your obvious excitement is gonna go a long way towards making your partner feel sexy, and... a confident partner who feels sexy and secure in that sexiness with you? 

That is what you want.


[thanks Isabella C]

If we had to write it out in an equation, queermos, it might look something like this:

Enthusiasm + desire to please = good sex. 

And fortunately for all sex newbies, there is almost no bigger turn-on than an excited bed partner. 


[thanks Iaah and Frances!]

It is really fun to undress for someone who is dying to see you undressed.


It is fun to fuck someone who really wants to be fucked, and vice versa—it is fun to be fucked by someone who really wants to fuck you. 

If something is fun, people want to do it again and again. 

Science!  


[thanks Josie]

But are you maybe worried about the specificsDaryn?  

Like, are you not sure you really know how to move from deep n' dirty kissing to s-e-x?  

Is it that you're not sure if you know what to do during sex?


[thanks Aimee]

If that's the case, well... don't forget, it's not a given that you're going to be runnin' the show. 

I know this may come as a shock to you, sugarpie, but there are usually two people involved when two people are having sex, and I think you'll probably get some help in this area, especially if your crush is, as you suspect, a bit more experienced than you. 


[thanks Christian C]

Sex is not something you do to someone; sex is something that people do together

You won't be alone, flying solo and expected to "perform"; you'll be with someone you really wanna have sex with (who really wants to have sex with you, too.) 

And if you are actively engaged in showing her how much you like  making out—if you're r
unning your hands up and down this person you've been dreaming about touching and making happy little noises and possibly grinning the way only a thrilled babydyke can during sex, I promise you, your worries will become non-issues.


[thanks rayraykira]

Are you not sure you know 'how' to eat pussy? 

Who cares?  Lots of people won't want to right away, and there's more than one way to muff-dive. 

Plunge in (safely and with consent durrr)  and do your goddamned best, and if you're not sure she's into it, ask. 

Your mouth is good for more than one thing during sex. 

Does that feel good?  How about this?  No? What could I do, here, to make it feel good?  What do you like? Is this good?

Enthusiasm!

[thanks Danielle P]

It solves almost all sex problems! 

Display your total, naked desire to make your partner feel good, and follow any instructions you get like an eager puppy. 
BOOM YOU ARE GOOD AT SEX K GREAT.

I'd rather have an eager and incredibly enthusiastic partner in the bedroom than a partner who has plenty of technical know-how but isn't making it clear they're VERY HAPPY TO BE THERE WITH MY BEWBS.


[thanks lesleyrenee]

Enthusiasm trumps 'skills' in the bedroom any day of the week, ok Daryn

Now get out there and have a good Pride


[thanks Kelsey]

Anybody else have some tips for fledgling queersexer Daryn?

Tuesday, May 14, 2013

Baby Just Say Yes

[thanks jLow and A]

Hiiiii cunny lingerers!

How's by you?  

Ahhhh I need to tell you I have the best work crush going right now. 


[via switchteams]

Eee hee hee we are talking a cute, kinda androgynous, totally mysterious work crush—I don't know her name, I don't know what she does at my job, I actually don't know anything about her at all except for that she has a sassy undercut and extraordinarily white teeth, which she uses to smile at me when I'm not expecting it. 

This causes me to slosh coffee down my shirt in confused alarm on a near-daily basis.



My work crush's smile is what it would look like if Julia Roberts were also Jesus, and it is deeply unnerving to have it beamed in my direction at random intervals.

Y'allfags should see my vintage white angora sweater.

Ruined. 




She just got moved into a desk that's kitty-corner from my desk at the office, and I now spend most of my work day pretending not to look at her. 

This is proving difficult, as summer is coming, and she seems committed to showing the world what exactly tank tops are for. 


[via e-baloo]

She's been my work crush for almost a month now.

And it's fun! She's a reason to put on the extra-tight skirt in the morning; a reason to make a detour past her desk when I'm getting yet another coconut-flavored La Croix from the fridge. 

Nothing serious. 
Juuuust something to take my mind off florescent lights and copy stage meetings. 




Work crushes are good for the morale, amirite? 

But ok: will you do me a quick favor and pretend she's your work crush for a second?

Pretend you, like me, alllllways see her in the bathroom and the cafeteria at the same time as you and she always holds the door for you and you sometimes catch her eye when you glance over to where she sits which means she was looking at you and one time she helped you mop up a water spill and you bumped heads and giggled and you once held the door open for her and you distinctly saw her ears get red.  



[thanks Sara LK]

That's what's going on.

Well.

With all that in mind, then—what if you were, say, heading for the train after work, and you suddenly saw this Massive Work Crush of yours walking towards you from about two blocks away? 

What if she looked really cute that day, her hands in her pockets, her sunglasses on and her undercut all fresh and crisp in the newly warm, sunshiney spring breeze?


[via bklynboihood]

What if she was coming closer and closer?

What would you do?

Would you:


a) walk towards her, smiling, and say "Haaaaaaaay" while obviously checking her out;

b) walk towards her with a poker face and pretend you didn't see her (classic lesbian default move!); or

c)  break out in a cold sweat panic, fumble in your bag for your phone, pull it out in order to pretend to be OMG TOTALLY IN THE MIDDLE OF AN IMPORTANT CALL SO YOU TOTALLY DON'T SEE YOUR WORK CRUSH AT ALL and, as you wildly swing the phone up to your face, watch in slow motion horror as it slips free of its case and sails through the air like a sleek silver and black dove, landing shatteringly in the middle of a busy intersection, screen smashing into several hundred pieces and skidding merrily to a stop face-up while about 30 onlookers (including your work crush) wince and go "OOOOOH SHIT" in a rare collective urban vote of sympathy?



If you chose a or b, you and I are in a fight right now.

But whatever. 


Shake it off, faggettes, we cannot let being terrifically socially inept hold us back! 

It's queerdyke mating season! The gays are out to play!  


[thanks kittynwong! this is amaze]

I mean, just a few weeks ago, the streets were empty. 

It was fucking freezing and all any of the lesbians wanted to do was put on pajamas directly after work and watch Game of Thrones


(I get it. I really do.)

That is, when they weren't buying starter cultures for their homemade kombucha, brewing it in Mason jars, and posting the pics on Pinterest. 


[via http://tmblr.co/ZLnKDyJAyV4k]

It has been a long goddamn winter.  

But turn the temperature up 50 degrees, and suddenly the adorable gayfolk are out in force!

I'm sitting at a coffeeshop in Andersonville watching what seems like hundreds of homos walking past, holding hands and licking ice cream cones and wearing brand-spankin', just-bought-a-new-pack-yesterday ribbed tank tops and looking fucking delighted to be outside.


[Bibi McGill via homoarigato]

How I've missed them all. 

The gay boys glistening with sweat as they walk down the street carrying gym bags. 


[thanks Mikal. SYWAD, why don't you]

The queergirls circling around on just-tuned-up bikes, flashing new tattoos and cigarettes tucked behind one ear. 


[thanks Britt G]

The book club dykes sitting outside at a cafe table drinking iced green tea, their Tevas fairly squelching with newness. 


[thanks! loveswing]

I MISSED Y'ALL SO MUCH, MY GOD WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN??

Come here you queerz I want to wear this shirt and make out with evvvvveryonnnne!!


[get it, Dad]

Besides impending summer (and horniness!) we have a real reason to be making out—celebration

Two minutes ago, as I was writing this mess and streaming a live news feed on my laptop at the coffeeshop, the votes clicked in. 

The Minnesota Senate just voted, 37-30, to pass the gay marriage bill!!!!! 


[happy tears! happy!]

Minnesota is now the 12th state in Amurrica where homos can get legally hitched! 

The first Midwest state to make gay marriage legal through a legislative vote! 


[thanks! tatsysboots]

After all this time and all the generations of struggle... the THIRD STATE TO DO SO IN TWO WEEKS!


Change is a-comin', faggettes, and it's happening faster than I ever even imagined it would.

UH MUH GUH GAYS CAN GET MARRIED IN MINNESOTA!!  


[thanks Kailey V.S.]

Hahahaha I don't even know what to do! 

I'm by myself in a public space!
No one knows why I'm cheering! I look crazy!!

Aggghhh I'm crying.

I've been happy when other states legalized gay marriage, but the momentousness of what's happening never really hit me 'til now. 


[thanks keo and ashley]

I've always thought of Minneapolis as my home base, even though I spent my childhood in California and Wisconsin.

When I was 18, and without a thought in my head, I moved to Minneapolis, "choosing" to go college there because I was too lazy to apply to any other colleges. Totally future-oriented! 


[thanks NatFranzia]

I knew nothing about the city or the University of Minnesota, only that I had vaguely enjoyed visiting my sister in her dorm room... exactly one time. 

It was (as all things are, young grasshoppers) the right place for me to be at the right time. 

While I was in Minneapolis, so many things happened. 

I left the Mormon church. 



I figured out I was a lezzzbian

I started doing burlesque, started writing, and found a tight-knit queer family.


[it's meeee and Lola, Sweetpea, Coco, and Switch]

Minneapolis was my headquarters for learning how to consciously build the life I wanted to live.

I will freely admit that I love Minneapolis more than any other city, and not just because it's a wonderful, green, liberal li'l city that's not too big and not too small and has giant rambling houses with screened-in porches and cheap rent and hundreds of bike punks and a massive local food culture and quirkly little coffee shops and miles of shimmering lakes and more lesbians per square foot than a Tegan and Sara concert on Pride weekend.  


[thanks pillowtalkmpls]

All those things help, but that's not why I love Minneapolis. 

I love Minneapolis because it is the first place where I ever felt like I was home. 


[This is the Blue Moon Cafe. Order a maple soy cold press and know I am incredibly jealous from afar.]

Even when I travelled—even when I moved away and then moved back and moved away again—even now, whenever I drive back into the city to visit and see the skyline rising up like a drawing in my head of how a skyline should look, I feel like I'm driving through the place I understand the most, the trees draping into the river, the names of streets and neighborhoods familiar and woodsy-sounding—Cedar, Franklin, Powderhorn, Seward, Hiawatha, Lake.


[thanks pillowtalkmpls]

Minneapolis is my first real home. 

And now everygay I know in Minnesota can finally feel like they're welcome, as they are, in the city and state they've called home for years. 


[thanks Autumn W]

Queers can get married and have the same rights as everyone else in Minnesota now, and I think that this—this basic extension of human dignity and recognition of gay relationships—is going to have a massive ripple effect in my adopted home state, a ripple effect that's already happening all over the country. 

This is some historic shit! 



[thanks Devi and Kalinda]

Gays can get married, for-real-married, and it won't be—as a newly-unfriended-on-Facebook person recently put it to me—"just a couple of homosexuals giving themselves a party with cake and rings" to anyone anymore, no matter how asshole-ish they are or how they feel about queer marriage. 

No one cares aboutcher shitty homophobic views anymore; the law-uh says we kin do it and that's that. 


[thanks Wendy M]

LEGALLY MARRIED NOW, BITCHES, YA LIKE THAT?

Now, I have a number of queer friends who are already engaged, or thinking extremely hard about getting married, and this just makes things even more awesome for them.

But you sluts know I like to worry.


[thanks Allie]

And while I'm super-happy for all of Minnesota and all the couples who can now recognize their relationships with legal status...

does being able to get married mean that suddenly I have to, um, worry about getting married? 


[thanks!]

Because eeeeeek.

All my adult life, I've just blown off the marriage thing.
  
It was never really a question. 
People would ask me if I ever wanted to get married and I would snort, "Let's see if it ever becomes legal first. Maybe then I'll think about it. Come talk to me if I can be married in one state, cross the border, and still be married." 

And then one day you wake up and it's happening. 



[thanks OISHIIMOMO and Liza]

Maybe I still couldn't go for that I'm-legally-married-in-all-50-states honeymoon road trip across America just yet, but if it can happen in Minnesota, it can happen in any other state. 

And (sorry bigots!) it's going to happen. 



The third state in two weeks, gaymosexuelles.   

Ready or not, it's time to talk about marriage, and not in a "why can't we have it???!!"-type way. 

I mean, I used to be able to count on not being quizzed about marriage or baby plans in social gatherings.  

I'm queer! I may not have rights, but at least I don't have to pretend to care about tying pastel-colored jordan almonds up into tiny bags of tulle!


[#whocares]

Now I can't hide behind the "well, it's not legal so let's not worry about it" argument anymore.  

It's starting to happen.  
Friends, relatives - they're starting to jokingly poke me whenever someone announces their engagement and go "Ho ho ho, and when will you be tying the knot?" *wink wink*


[thanks Anya G]

Ugh.

Straights have been bitching about this for shit for years, and I dunno, I always kind of assumed that my publicly avowed goal in life (to have a face full of pussy) would be my protection when it came to nosy people asking me about marriage plans. 

Everyone knew I was a dyke, and so everyone left me alone about it.


[thanks Aimee]

Now I - I - I...I might have to start giving some thought to marriage. 

At some point.

Marriage as a possibility, as something that other mos might want to be shooting for during relationships. 


[thanks Autumn W]

I'm not even sure how I feel about marriage to begin with, and, while America's stance on gay marriage has been unbelievably shitty, it's also been quite a convenient way for me to not really, um, have to think about it. 

My argument was: 

"Gay people can't get married, legally, and I'm gay, and I'm not interested in getting married if it's not legal"

and that was that. 

Ta-da! Neatly boxed and put away in my mind.


[thanks Erin F, haaaay]

As soon as I knew I was someone who liked boobs more than almost anything else on this earth, I abandoned any thoughts of getting married.


[you're welcome]

Wasn't gonna happen.  

No white dress for meeee, well fuck, I guess I'll just have to content myself with piles of hot dyke sex. 


[marry me, jenny]

But with gay marriage slowly sweeping across the country like a drag queen's sequined train, I find myself... a little nervous about what's next, while still being thrilled for everyone who does want to exercise their access to their rights. 

Not being able to get married is a lot different than consciously choosing not to. 

What does this do? 

Now I'm all confused.

Is it ok to still not really care about getting married, or does this put me into some kind of a "commitment-phobic" category now? 

[thanks Chyna]

With state after state voting gay marriage into law, what will happen to the queers who haven't given marriage any, er, real thought or attention whatsoever?  

Are we gay dinosaurs now?