Today I was having a chat with my favorite far away friend (like really far) when I found myself writing “I am thinking of moving to Toronto.” And I was happy to see her write that she has been pondering the same city.
Anyway, Saskatoon has been nice, I guess, except there isn’t a lot of short queer film being screened here (hardly any!), and there isn’t a lot of queer culture, and I am starting to miss being influenced by radical queer politics that happens in larger urban centres. In short I miss big city living. I miss having a larger community of like minded folks. Toronto has a Queer film festival and an Indigenous film festival and several small festivals and events and you can see nipples AND drink a beer at the same time. Here everyone has to have pasties on. And pasties are glamourous, but not as splendorific as a nice naked nipple.
I was going to stay here until my grandparents died, but they are still chugging along and I have been here six years now and I don’t think I should make decisions that are dependent on them dying. Besides, I will still come back every so often and for the major holidays like Christmas and . . . well just Christmas. NO I will come in the summer too.
And anyway I won’t be leaving right away, I will probably stay here until at least the end of June 2013. Something could change my mind. But if I got my grant and was in post production, well that would give me a decent financial cushion for moving to a new city. And there are lots of jobs in Toronto, with the aforementioned festivals and other places. Culturally it is a happening city. And it’s just a place where I feel there would be more opportunities for me. More clients for my business, more places I could get a job job. More places to meet women and there would be an actual Butch-Femme community and I wouldn’t feel like the only only one anymore. I miss being in a Butch-Femme community, Saskatoon has some Butch-Femme couples to be sure, but hardly anyone who really identifies with those labels and embraces them and is willing to fuck with them a bit. I guess I am too old school or something, which is funny because in Vancouver I wasn’t old school at all, I was whatever non-old school butches are. But here it’s like if you say you are Butch they think you are from the 50’s.
I hate to say it but I miss coming from a pool of butches and transdudes who are all chosen by the same Femmes for intimate encounters and potentially long term relationships, where we end up winking at each other because we share the same exes. Or current lovers. Or whatever.
Also, I am ready to fall in love. Like massively in love. And even though I am having some dates here, I am so used to feeling dismal about my chances here. I chased the same woman for almost six years! It was a waste of time. But I feel like there just wasn’t anyone else that could hold my attention as well as she did. Maybe I didn’t give the locals enough of a chance. Even my next date isn’t REALLY from here, she lives three hours away! So many of the lesbians here are shacked up and officially married, and I want to be an old married lady too!
I guess I should have a relationship that lasts longer than a year and a month first though. That is still my longest relationship to date. And now we don’t even talk to each other. Sometimes I look at her profile on Facebook and read the few lines that are public and wonder if she will ever have a picture of her face for her profile pic and not her cat. The irony, of course, is that when she and I dated she lived in Toronto and I lived in Vancouver and when we broke up it’s because I wanted one of us to move so we would be together and she dumped me because we weren’t in the same place and then she moved to Vancouver and I moved to Saskatoon.
And now I am moving to Toronto.
She was 28, I was 19, we were probably in different places in more ways than just geography. She was butch, believe it or not, at least that’s how she identified. The cutest soft butch ever! She was really the first girl I had sex with, like full on fucking and falling asleep and waking up to more fucking and falling asleep again and fucking some more. We were really sexually compatible except she wasn’t into BDSM. But she did orgasm denial scenes really well. With some coaching. I was her first female lover. YAY! I did have a female lover before her, and a male lover who was a friendly fuck that I had to end when he got attached. But those were just juvenile games compared to the sex I had with Butch Lady Lady. She was the first one who made me come all by herself. It’s hard for me to come with lovers at first, I’m too wound up and feel sheepish for asking them to get repetitive strain injuries. It’s like I have to get calibrated for lovers, cause once I have them all mapped out in my interior erotic landscape I can come in a decent amount of time with them.
Currently I do not have a specific person I think about when I am coming. It’s kind of depressing. I like when I have a favorite person to think about. When Ivana and I broke up I was really depressed because I still had to think about her when I masturbated and I felt like I didn’t have a right to anymore. And then even when I did think about her and come it would make me ache so hard not to be with her anymore.
To be honest, even when I have said all this stuff about Rheanne being the love of my life, probably the big love Thus Far was Ivana. She was the one who was there for me for a whole year and a month. It wasn’t a perfect relationship, there were a lot of things about it that were wrong, but she really was PRESENT and honest in a way that my first and last love wasn’t. She actually called me her girlfriend and was open about me with friends and, okay, she didn’t tell her mom about me because she was still in the closet. That was a problem. BUT she loved me as best as she could from four provinces away. And the sex was great. The sex was awesome.
I wish I could still talk to her. I behaved really inappropriately with her when I was drunk and after that she didn’t really want to be friends with me. I don’t blame her. I was uncooth. We were already broken up by that point. And it wasn’t my decision to break up. I took it really hard. That was a fucked up summer, so much shit happened that summer. The summer of 1998. Oh man! What a BAD summer!
I remember she came to visit that summer, after we broke up. I didn’t even have a photo of her, and I had been trying to imagine her from when I had seen her when we met and had all the great sex. And I saw this really cute dyke on Commercial Drive and my heart skipped a beat and I thought “Is that her?” I couldn’t remember! It was her. We went for dinner at Wazubees and she came over to my apartment and freaked out because she was sitting on my bed “I can’t believe I’m sitting on your bed!” and I wanted to kiss her and we kissed bunches of times. But no sex. No relationship. We never got back together.
She wanted a break from me and then we just never talked again. I wanted to, but like I said I behaved badly. I felt so guilty for being so bad, I still feel guilty. But I never got to have a conversation with her about it, never got to apologize.
I know I could. I know I should. It would ease my mind to tell her some of the things I have thought since we broke up, even though it is fourteen years later.
God, how old would she be now? 42! OMG! Turning 43.
I can’t believe it has been fourteen years.
Maybe I should do the classic Thirza thing, and write a long apologetic email to her. Because I miss her, and I should apologize, and because it would be nice to know her again, even if she is straight now or I don’t even know what. Who knows, maybe she has a husband? My friends would know. We have some of the same friends. It’s so awkward, I never know what to say when her name comes up. I really did love her once. And she broke my heart, and then I broke my heart. And it’s so conflicted. I don’t think we would get back together, I don’t think it would work. For one thing, there would be distance. Again. And that was the main trouble in the first place. For another thing she is older, and she usually made the rules in our relationship, like she decided when we would talk and I often didn’t feel like I had much input into the situation, because if I called her she would often wait the required two weeks before calling me back. It always seemed to happen in two week intervals, our phone calls. And I couldn’t handle that.
Ha ha, I had a dream after we broke up that she told me the only reason she dumped me is because of her long distance bill, and that if sprint had brought in unlimited long distance sooner we would still be together!
BUT I have a faggy arty date at some point in the not too distant future! Life is not all doom and gloom. And of course if it got serious I would reconsider the whole “I’m moving to Toronto in 2013” thing.
2:23 am. Perfect time of day to write an apology email. WOuld you believe I only had two pints this evening?