Show Up and Dyke Up

“Hi! I have been running into you all day!” says the 10-yo girl that’s been staring at me as I run after my girlfriend’s 5yo in the playground. It doesn’t look like I can avoid this conversation longer, so I answer her that yes, we have been running into each other in this tiny playground a few times. 

“Are you his mom?” She asks, puzzled. “Not exactly.” I answer. Her friends start to gather around me, all of them are as puzzled as she is, and they all want to know. “What do you mean?” one of them asks. “I’m his mom’s girlfriend.”  

“Ooooooooooh!” My new friend continues. “Are you a lesbian or a bisexual?” I smile, surprised that she is asking me this question. “I’m a lesbian.” All her friends exclaim, and their interest grows bigger. She tells me she’s bisexual and that she knows five other lesbians in real life, all of them her friends. She has seen a lot more lesbians in videos though. 

Her friends leave to go play, but she’s not done talking to me. She tells me about one of her lesbian friends, and their inside joke where they ask each other in marriage and laugh. She also tells me she likes all animals, except the ones that are naked. 

My girlfriend’s son comes back, and signs for me to follow him. I thank my new friend for sharing all that interesting information, and tell her I have to go back to the little boss. I run after him a few more minutes until he says “I think it’s time for another slurpie” as he takes my hand to make sure I follow him to pay for his slurpie. 

***

I’m meeting a friend for coffee. We’ve met through different queer/trans socializing groups in the city, and our neurodivergent vibes sync up easily. As we’re chatting, they mention moving in a week to a new apartment. As an able-bodied butch who loves to help out in moves (especially to organize all the stuff in the van and cars!), I immediately offer my help, and I’m added to a group text of helpers. 

On moving day, I get the car and head to my friend’s place. When I get there, I hear that most people have bailed or have COVID-19. My friend parks the U-HAUL van like a pro, and I meet the two other dykes that will also be helping. We get to work, and within an hour all the furniture and boxes are neatly packed in the van. 

When we get to the new place, I take the clementines I brought (my girlfriend’s idea, she’s very smart), and offer them to the group. Everybody welcomes the break, and we all chat for a bit before getting all the furniture and boxes in my friend’s new apartment. The dyke efficiency powered by the drive to help and care for our people keeps us going like superheroes (the nice ones, not the imperialist ones). 

Soon, we are all in the kitchen drinking water and congratulating ourselves for the successful move. Before we leave, someone cleans the glasses we used. We say goodbye to my friend, and I drive everybody back home.

***

It’s Tuesday night, and I’m at my girlfriend’s place. I have a part-time job at the moment, since I’m still recovering from my last autistic burnout and doing too much. My girlfriend is studying for an important exam for her PhD, and I’m done doing dinner and the dishes. All this means, I’ve done everything I need to do today, and I need to keep myself busy, so I don’t distract her every five minutes with all the random thoughts going through my mind. 

I decide to take the night for myself and take acid. I slip the paper under my tongue for twenty minutes and go lie down on the couch. At some point, I look up and start looking at my girlfriend’s art. It’s the piece she uses to cover the TV when we’re not using it: 12 different cactuses with a fine black outline and filled with watercolour. I notice the watercolour paint is moving and twirling and I smile to myself (I’m high!). I get up and go closer to admire all the dancing cactuses. When I hear my girlfriend laughing, I realize I have been exclaiming “Oh! How beautiful!” and different variants of that sentence for a while (she has a photo to commemorate how stupid I looked).  

To be more successful at not distracting her, I go lie down on the bed in another room. I put on some music on my phone and end up opening the camera. As I look at the new tattoo on my thigh (BUTCH in thick lettering), I think about all those porn films I’ve seen online and in queer and trans festivals celebrating the eroticism of different bodies and gender fuckery. I’m fascinated as I look at my body through the camera: the boxer starting just over the tattoo, the hair going up my thighs and into the boxer, where my packer hides under a small but noticeable bulge. 

After what feels like hours I get distracted by a movement in the mirror. I don’t realize right away, but it’s me. I get up and look closer at the new configuration of my body. I’m six months into recovery after top surgery, and I love what I see in the mirror. The scars healed well, and they trace nice lines on my chest. I love looking the different parts of my scars, the different ways my body healed. 

When my girlfriend is done studying, she comes into the room and asks me to go make her something to drink. I’m thankfully back to being functional, and I happily go to the kitchen to make my beautiful princess her favourite drink. I hear her asking me from the bedroom if I want to have sex because she knows that I love her desire. I’m coming back with her drink as I’m telling her that yes, I’d be happy to. She takes the drink from my hand, takes a sip, puts it down on the table and pushes me back on the bed. I love the look she has on her face, her eyes hungry for me. I ask her to please use me as her boytoy and I watch her smile get bigger. We spend the rest of the night elevating each other’s body with pleasure. 

****

I should be doing some school work right now and preparing for meetings but one of the things I learned in my recovery from autistic burnout is that to be able to show up for my people, I need to show up for myself first. Making space to write about fostering dyke relationships and trying to create the dyke world I want to live in is one of the ways I have been able to heal. 

So is making time for caring and looking out for my people. Which is why, instead of doing what I’m supposed to be doing, I will now go do some laundry and cook food for my lesbian friends who became new moms a few weeks ago. Take care dykes!