R.I.P. Del Martin, One Bad-Ass Wife

Del Martin, lesbian activist, co-founder of Lyon Martin Clinic and the Daughters of Bilitis, first out lesbian elected to office in the National Organization of Women, and wife to Phyllis Lyon, died this past Wednesday.

She was partners with Phyllis for 55 years, and they got married during the first wave of Newsomized gay marriages a few years again, and then were the first couple to (re-) wed once same-sex marriages got the green light in the state of California this year.

Del sounds like not only a totally amazing person, who personally did a lot for the openness and acceptance of queers in this country (including me being able to conduct my wife hunt out here on the internets, for all to see), but also a wonderful and committed wife.

May we all, those of us who want partners anyway, be so lucky.

Rest in Peace, Del Martin. You kicked a ton of ass, and we are incredibly grateful for it.

I love my wife day: October 15

Man if only my special one were with me now, I could spend days talking about the glory of my matrimony at the I LOVE MY WIFE CONFERENCE. Apparently God (not my god/dess, but the one with the beard and the smiting and whatnot) wants you to do marriage a certain way, and then get together with a bunch of other happily marrieds and talk about the grandeur of their joyous unions with their righteous wifeys.
For realz.
Not only that, but they made a day just for lovin' on your little legally bound muffin: October 15 is "I love my wife day". Now I doubt I'd be welcome at the con, and I know everybody loves to hate on the forced attention and emphasis of love-related holidays (as one parent of a friend, long un-married to his life partner said: "I don't need the man to tell me that I'm in love"), personally I believe that the wives of the world probably need a little more love and attention, and don't give a shit that such a thing calls attention to my wifelessness. In short, screw the wackjobs, but I think their "I love my wife day" is a sweet idea.

I may also be a wackjob though, depending on who you ask.

Tough Ass Femme Sex Top

That's some of what I'm looking for. Not a top like a Domme, I like that role plenty fine thank you, but some one who will pull the old "No. You're Hot, I'm doing it to you." on me; someone that I want to pull that on me. I need how to learn how to receive, and I really need someone who's desire is strong enough to override my service-top standard. Not so much a "how can I please you ma'am" as much as a "pleeeeaaase let me do you ma'am". From the right person, pleading out of desire goes far with me, since one of my major erotic triggers is the feeling that the other(s) is/are being pleasured. Like I said, service top. While I'm not stone, exactly, I'd still like to learn how to more readily accept and enjoy the energy being directed at my pleasure directly instead of somehow ricocheted of someone else's good times.Well, that repertoire has gotten limited and limiting so someone who just can't stand how much they want to fuck me is the trick I'm pretty sure I need.

And I love me some tough ladies in lacy undies. Leathemen and lingerie.....mmm, get's the job done.



Thanks to Tara for the condensation of needs into a couple of phrases.

Lactose, Legal and 'Lyst Free

Well good ol' snake-loving redheaded ice cream scooper never wrote back.

Neither did the hot cop (!?) who elicited dazed tingles from the top of my pigtailed head up and down my peace loving, hippie skirt clad body to the rings on my toes in the produce section of Trader Joe's. I know... a cop!? Who knew? But it's cool; she's exempt because:
A. She is the Capulet to my anti-authoritarian Montague, cop love would be so star-crossed for me I'd need the Enterprise to get me to a date.
B. Well, we just looked at each other. She never actually got any information with which to write me in the first place.


Nor did the gorgeous queer writer from LA, who though male-bodied could totally pull-off some sick bastardization of wifehood. Which would be great by me. I think we'd make a gorgeous Todd Haynes flick. (And now that gays can get married in CA, he and I could even make it legal!) But he's famous and lives in L.A. so he's also exempt. Plus he *did* give me a free copy of his book and a spontaneous hug upon first meeting, so I feel pretty special about all that already.


Anyhoo, the good news is, I'm actually kind of trying. I took a little winter slug break from ye olde wifey chase, but now; well I may not be back in the saddle exactly, but I'm at least in the stable and giving some of the horses the eye.

Yee-haw.

Brand Spanking New Gay Day Proposal

I took the snakes for a walk to the ice cream parlor yesterday and Wendy convinced me I'd be arrested if I went in the nude so I wore the skimpiest slip that still covered bits I could find.
The heat really makes me want to act out. There was a new scooper I'd never seen before and she freaked out, in a good way, about the snakes. She was beautiful: long red hair, nice arm tattoos, looked like a lovely femme but sounded like a rough and tumble dude when she talked. Perfect. Did I mention she works at the ice cream parlor?

As I was sitting outside with Wendy, covered in snakes and ice cream dribbles, I realized; hey, that's my wife.

I borrowed a piece of paper and a pen and wrote a note:
"Gay Marriage is legal in CA as of today. Whaddya say?
<3 Sadie and the snakes" and my email address.

I folded it up, kissed one side with my smeared and ice cream sticky lipstick (an accurate, if not glamorous representation of me) and squeezed past the line to go back inside.
She was bent over, her arms deep in the freezer, hair blocking me from her view.
So I took the passive agressive approach: handed the note to her co-worker at the register, said "Will you please give this to her?" and ran away.

Hah!

So far, no email. No surprise. But at least I celebrated brand spanking new gay day to the fullest extent I was able, i.e. proposing to a stranger.
You can't say I'm not trying.

Too damn hot.....

Where's my wife and her biodiesel truck!?
Take me to the beach! I'll slather you with sunscreen.
I made really good ice tea from super fancy tea I bought in France. Let's complain and get naked together! I want to act out and you know just how to goad me into doing something crazy.
We might have a little fight, but its just because our blood sugar is low and its so damn hot. We'll make up by smearing bodily fluids all over an alley when the sun goes down.
Get me some water?
I love you!

Show me the Wives!!!!

All right ladies and womens and sir-ma'ams and ze's and she's and those who prefer to remain labelless.

This just in from a webiste off-shoot of my former East Coast daily:
Gay marriage now legal in California. Arnie says he'll uphold the ruling.
Step up.

Bride me. I'm ready. I won't propose via text. I will shower you with chocolate or flowers or kisses or bus tickets or fish eggs or vegan fish eggs or whatever you prefer.
Buy me an opal ring. Let's do this thing.


And some food for thought:As previously noted I dabble in magic. When I started this blog, Gay Marriage *was not* legal in California, though hardly anyone could quite believe it.
Less than 6 months later gay marriage *becomes legal*. Now I'm not saying there's a direct causative correlation, but I'm not not saying that either.

Think about it.