A Philly Lesbian at King Arthur’s Wedding (the end)

Finally, the final chapter. Let’s recap, shall we?

I’ve got two loose boobs on me, and two strong drinks in me, and I’m headed to a wedding.

As our group walks to the elevator, my boyfriend’s wife turns to me and asks, “You’ve got those things taped up, right?” I looked at them, then back at her. “Do they look like they’re taped down? If I was going to go that way, I’d be in a comfortable tux tight now.”

“No, no, taped up,” she said, pushing hers up for emphasis.

The elevator doors close, and I don’t have a clue as to what she’s talking about. A 30 second ride up to the 33rd floor later, I understand that you can buy things with double sticky tape on them and adhere them to your breasts. “A little too late, to find that out,” I said walking out with her instead of my girlfriend. “You don’t want them anyway”, she grimaced. “They glue they use to stick them on is so strong, you pull off a couple of layers with them.”

Wow…what straight girls go through. I quickly find my girlfriend to tell her about this new found horror.

Remember…the wedding is going to be different. First difference-no church-no minister. No problem. If it’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s having to listen to some guy talk about the sanctity of marriage, having taken a vow of celibacy. The other thing…5 minutes of the wife to be kneeling under the requisite Virgin Mary statue while Ave Maria is playing. Yes, I have been to a lot of Catholic weddings up here in the north-thanks for asking.

First stop in the different wedding is two closed frosted doors, a table for gifts and a photo book of Philly that’s open with a pen next to it.

I’m wondering if I get to write in the picture book, when a waiter comes by with a tray. A tray of beverages. White wine, red wine, or sparkling water with a slice of lime. Lime shouldn’t be wasted on water, just used in gin and tonics-so i take the glass of red wine. Drink #3 for anyone who’s counting. Head straight, shoulder’s back, I wait to see if anyone will scribble in the book. I finish off that glass quickly, so I can have two hands free to check the book. I’m now obsessed with knowing whether or not I need to sign this thing. I thumb thru and sure enough someone else has already been scribbling. I’m halfway writing something half mushy and half raunchy under a Ben Franklin bridge fireworks display when the doors open. Show time.

Music has started and there is just empty space and a wall of floor to ceiling glass with a beautiful view of the city and river. I’m thinking this is a nice place to have a wedding…the drinks are starting to work. I actually put my arms around my girlfriend as we listen to the vows being exchanged. I look into her eyes and she looks into my cleavage. I’m beginning to realize that I’ll be the last to know if my boobs fall out. A short and sweet ceremony is unceremoniously broken by my coworker’s cell phone and then they are pronounced married. Time for another set of doors.

This room has the same glass windows all around, except instead of empty space there’s food and a bar. Guess where I head. Drinks # 4 and 5 go down quickly…I stick to the red wine, like that will help…both glasses are filled to the edge with wine. I tip the bartender and say thanks…he thanks my boobs…and I’m feeling quite good now-tape or no tape. As a matter of fact, I’ve forgotten about my precarious breast situation and am thinking about dancing. A couple of songs later, my girlfriend cuts in on me and a guy jitterbugging.

“Hey there, dear. Come to take a spin?” I’m 5 drinks into dance lessons with her. “Don’t your feet hurt?” “No…and my dress has stayed on also, ” I smile.

“Come with me,” she coaxes, and I dutifully follow. She points to a series of buffets and reminds me of how much I love to eat, and walks me to a line. “What would you like?”, the guy with the chef hat asks my boobs. I point he plates and I’ve got something to bring back to a table. “Can I have this dance?” It’s my boyfriend and he’s ditched his wife to get me…I’m flattered…I say yes. The food is forgotten, and the dancing begins anew. About halfway thru the second song we both remember that we forgot where our drinks and our wives are…in that order. We head to the bar. 6th drink for me…like 10 for my boyfriend. “You two looked like you were having fun out there.” It’s the mother of the bride. She’s ordering an appletini-and it’s not her first. We start talking weddings, daughters, and Philadelphia, and it’s only 20 minutes into the conversation that I realize that this woman thinks I’m this guy’s wife. I’m not sure about my boyfriend, but I’ve got a reputation to uphold, so I excuse myself and bring both our wives for proper introductions. I think she was a little confused who was sleeping with who after that, but since I was seeing double I understood some confusion.

My girlfriend again: “Have you eaten anything?” She and I both knew the answer-no. She walked me over to a table and placed a plate in front of me. Even drunk with love and booze, I remembered to keep my shoulders back so my boobs wouldn’t fall out. For the casual observer, it looked like I was scared of my food as well as hungry for it.

“Lesbians….lesbians…over there hiding at the corner table.” It was my boyfriend. Stating the fact loudly even though his wife was poking him in the ribs with a fork. “Eunuch…eunuch…standing neat the windows,” I yelled. My girlfriend poking me with a fork also. things were breaking down quickly. I had the great idea that I should eat something. My girlfriend agreed. “I might have had too much to drink,” I whispered. “Yeah…you just need to sit here and eat, that’s all.” Why my girlfriend was addressing my breasts with this advice…I didn’t know. “I guess we have to stay for cake and the toast-then can we go?” All of a sudden I didn’t want to be in heels, panty hose and a halter dress anymore. I was very sleepy.

“Was I too loud? Did I stand up straight? Do you think that other group at the table heard the eunuch comment?” I was beginning to piece together the night. As we got into the car, my girlfriend said, “You were fine…you were fun. Everyone was having a good time.” When my head hit the pillow I hoped that was the truth. The truth was that a call from my boyfriend the next day confirmed what I hoped. There were more drunk people than me at the wedding. And there was more skin showing as well.

“What’s up bitch?” It’s my boyfriend calling at 2pm the next day. “I’m OK…bit of a headache…how about you?” “Same. Why did you leave…the party really got going.” “Yeah,” I replied. “What happened.”

“Well, after you two snuck out, I put my wife to bed and went down to really party. They had Polish polkas going and the room’s cousin said she wasn’t leaving until she f*cked me.” “Wow” I said. Thinking that I had seen the cousin, and she’s got a lot of city miles. “P” said that the same cousin offered to give him a massage and “R’s” wife didn’t wear underwear to the wedding.

“I’m sorry” I stuttered. “Come again?” He started laughing. She was dirty dancing with another woman on the dance floor and her skirt went way up and you could see everything.” “Oh my…” I trailed off. “Yeah…you missed quite a show. You might have even scored a massage from the cousin.” “That’s OK. I think I’m glad we left when we did.” “Well, you looked great”, he added sheepishly. I could imagine a half sheep, half wolf grin on his face. “Ahh, thanks…you did too. So I’ll see you bright and early at work?” “Yeah, see you then, bitch.” And we hung up.

So that’s it…it wasn’t me. I wasn’t the one everyone remembers at the wedding. Even with me imagining everyone was staring at my boobs…and I still think they were. It was obvious that people had upped the antie at these kind of things. No longer can a lesbian wear heels and halters and get noticed. Straight women have raised the bar.

The next event I might attend is a dinner for a gay youth organization in Philly. I could think about wearing the dress, and leave the underwear at home, but I have this idea that I might want to slide into the shadows again for the next black tie event also.

Inside the Closet, or the Fine Art of Denial

EdgePhiladelphia:  What do Barney Frank, Elton John and Ellen DeGeneres have in common with Larry Craig, Clay Aiken and Ricky Martin? Well, for one, they’re all obviously gay. Each and every one of them. Gay, gay, gay.

But while the first three came out after years of whispers, the others responded to mounting evidence by burying themselves deep into the sands of denial. Unfortunately, the cozy little burrow they hoped would shield them from further public scrutiny was already occupied by Tom Cruise, John Travolta and Oprah — and they weren’t budging!

Coming out of the closet used to mean career death for politicians and celebrities. But as times slowly change, those bold enough to declare their true sexual orientation have about the same chance of seeing their lives destroyed as they do of getting an image award from GLAAD.

What does it say, then, about those who continue to entrench themselves in denial? Is this indicative of a certain damaged personality type? And what makes them think they can get away with it? Don’t they realize that America expects the truth about their tawdry sex lives in exchange for our support at the ballot box or the box office?

From the inquisitive public to their evasive targets, everyone involved has an over inflated sense of entitlement. There’s a term for that, you know (especially when it refers to someone else). It’s called narcissism.

Narcissism: The Catnip in the Closet
“Each of us is narcissistic to some degree.” says Albert Clayton Gaulden, an astro-intuitive and transpersonal psychologist and founding director of the Sedona Intensive.

We all choose actions that are in our own best interest. But there’s a certain point where self-preservation stops being pragmatic and starts becoming evil. For Gaulden, that tipping point happens around the time “when one begins to shut out the rest of the world and becomes the center of his own universe.” With that in mind, he offers this generally true generalization: “All politicians, actors or celebrities have clinical narcissism — it goes with the territory. Clinical narcissism means one is incapable of being honest with himself. He’s pathologically selfish and self centered.”

That’s probably why politicians and celebrities are drawn to the spotlight; not just for the power, but for the constant adulation that comes with it. Gaulden says these attention-getting professions feed those who “are dependent upon the goodwill of others. They survive on the applause, almost like a vampire.”

It’s so cliché that it must be true. Just as celebs and politicos are drawn to their professions for the ego boost, they’re also trying in vain to win approval never given to them as children. Gaulden: “From my case studies, closeted men in the public eye more often than not have had a very difficult relationship with their fathers and other men in puberty and adolescence. Their mothers coddled and effeminized them and at the same time reinforced the notion that they must never show their desire to be with a man sexually.”

So when a matinee idol or a politician finally reaches the top by catering to a market that demands the opposite of their true selves, there are only two choices: own up, or fight for the status quo. The longer the veil of secrecy has been in place, the more to be lost when it’s lifted. If Ricky Martin or Clay Aiken’s swooning female fans began to ask the hard questions about their involvement with sperm donation and surrogate mothers, their marquee value as objects of heterosexual desire would take a nosedive.

Thankfully, there’s an army of showbiz bottom feeders to perform homo damage control. Gaulden: “Most of these public figures have seasoned publicists and spin doctors to diminish the ill affects of homosexual innuendo. They feel they can get away with it; and this attitude of ’because I can’ is a narcissist’s sense of entitlement.”

Tina B. Tessina, PhD (her website) is a psychotherapist and author of author of the book “Gay Relationships.” She identifies denial as a logical consequence of the narcissist’s sense of entitlement: “Someone who decides to dig in deeper with secrecy once their cover’s been blown is acting from that sense of invulnerability.” Years of successfully dodging close calls, she says, leads to a mental process that keeps the person thinking “that if you just hang tight, you’ll get away with it.”

Gaulden notes that “When a politician or celebrity is suspected of being a homosexual, he goes to any lengths to distance himself from the allegation; because narcissists are incapable of seeing themselves as they really are. Some therapists refer to this as the ’Jekyll and Hyde syndrome.’ Both parts are legitimate and real; but only one, the heterosexual pure male persona, is the one that the narcissist can allow the world to know.”

But even the best spin and evasive techniques can’t last forever. Sometimes, in the face of overwhelming proof, “They are forced to confess.” observes Tessina. “It’s worse, of course, if they’ve been lying or if they’re in a paradoxical situation — such as a politician who’s gay and speaks out against same-sex marriage. The enormity of the consequences often keeps them straddling the fence as long as possible.”

There’s one more Hollywood option for closet cases who opt not to come out. They can get religion — a religion so freaky and extreme it that it wraps their sexual orientation in a cloak of comparative invisibility. That brings to mind a certain couch-jumping, psychology-bashing, Top Gun known as Tom Cruise. (continue)

What is McCain Thinking? One Alaskan’s Perspective

Downtown Wallsia, Alaska.

Mudflats: Tiptoeing Through the Muck of Alaskan Politics:

From the author’s bio:

I am a citizen who is paying attention. I’ve had the good fortune to have had people in my life who were engaged, and aware, and dragged me along until I became engaged and aware too. I am also fortunate to count as my friends some of those who hold elected office in this state, and remind me by example that there are good people out there in our state and city government who are intelligent, diligent, ethical, and working hard for the best interest of Alaska.

Personal background? I grew up on the East Coast and attended an ivy-covered New England liberal arts college. After graduating, and diving in to the business world, I decided to flee the NYC area and take a two year adventure to Alaska. When I arrived in Anchorage in February of 1991 without knowing a soul, only one month rent paid and $300 to my name, I looked out the window at the snow falling in the dark and wondered what I had done. By the time my two years were up, I was hooked.

“Is this a joke?”  That seemed to be the question du jour when my phone started ringing off the hook at 6:45am here in Alaska.  I mean, we’re sort of excited that our humble state has gotten some kind of national ‘nod’….but seriously?  Sarah Palin for Vice President?  Yes, she’s a popular governor.  Her all time high approval rating hovered around 90% at one point.  But bear in mind that the 90% approval rating came from one of the most conservative, and reddest-of-the-red states out there.  And that approval rating came before a series of events that have lead many Alaskans to question the governor’s once pristine image.

There is no doubt in my mind that many Alaskans are feeling pretty excited about this.  But we live in our own little bubble up here, and most of the attention we get is because of The Bridge to Nowhere, polar bears, the indictment of Ted Stevens, and the ongoing investigation and conviction of the string of legislators and oil executives who literally called themselves “The Corrupt Bastards Club”.

So seeing our governor out there in the national spotlight accepting the nomination for Vice Presidential candidate is just downright surreal.  Just months ago, when rumors surfaced that she was on the long version of the short list, she was questioned if she’d be interested in the position.  She said she couldn’t answer  “until somebody answers for me what is it exactly that the VP does every day. I’m used to being very productive and working real hard in an administration. We want to make sure that that VP slot would be a fruitful type of position, especially for Alaskans and for the things that we’re trying to accomplish up here….”

There is no doubt that Palin has fierce territorial loyalties.  When elected governor there was much concern because she came right out and said she would favor her own home town of Wasilla (where she was mayor) and its surrounding environs collectively known as “the Valley” while leading the state.  And it’s obvious from her statement that Alaska was on her mind when accepting the VP nod (see my emphasis above).

So what is it that we’re “trying to accomplish up here”?

• Palin is currently in the middle of a controversial gas pipeline project in Alaska.  She’s favored the ‘Trans Canada’ proposal that will run the pipeline through Canada, in effect shipping US jobs over the border.  Many Alaskans, including former governors, have favored the “All Alaska Route”.
• She is also sueing the federal government over listing the polar bears as a threatened species.  The science was even compelling enough to convince the Secretery of the Interior that the bears needed to be listed.  But acknowlegement of this issue, and the potential disruption to development on Alaska’s oil-rich north slope spurred Palin to attempt to stop the listing.
• Does she want to open ANWR?  Yes.  Every politician in Alaska wants to open ANWR.  It’s basically a requirement if you ever hope to get elected for anything.  Even Mark Begich, the progressive Democrat running against the indicted Senator and Alaskan institution Ted Stevens, is pro-drilling.  That’s the sea we swim in up here.  There are a few anti-drilling folks, but you have to look hard to find them, and work hard to have them admit it.

Will all this wash with voters in the ‘Lower 48′?  Time will tell.

18 Million Cracks in the Glass Ceiling

It was obvious anyway, but became beat-you-over-the-head-with-a-two-by-four obvious when Palin referenced the ‘glass ceiling’ line, that this choice is a blatant pander to women.  I would like to believe that women will actually feel insulted by this.  Yes, it would have been historic if Hillary had gotten the nomination.  It was historic that she made it as far as she did.  Yes, it would be great to have a woman in the oval office, or in the VP slot if they are the right woman…a woman who got there with her own drive, grit, determination, intelligence, skill and merits.  When you’re hand-picked by a man to win votes simply because you are a woman, that doesn’t count, and it doesn’t break any kind of ceiling.  Would we have had a Stan Palin as our VP pick?  No.  So choosing a woman because you think her gender will get votes is insulting.

Governor “Squeakyclean”….or not.

Another focus of Palin’s introduction today was her reform image.  Listen to John McCain and you’ll hear about a maverick reformer who took on big oil, took on corrupt Alaska politicians, and whose ethics are unquestioned.

Alaskans really want to like Sarah Palin.  In a state where corruption is the rule, and the same faces keep recycling over and over and over again like a bad dream, a new face, with a promise of reform seemed like a breath of fresh air.  Palin defeated incumbent governor Frank Murkowski (father of Alaska Senator Lisa Murkowski who he appointed to his own Senate seat when he was elected governor) because he was such an obnoxious, bloviating, downright BAD politician.  This staunchly republican state voted with relief, not having to cross over and vote Democratic, but still able to get Murkowski the hell out of office.  In the general election Palin swept into office running against a former Democratic governor, Tony Knowles, who was capable but came with baggage.  And he represented to Alaskans more of the same, tired old-style politics, and special interests that we have come to loathe.

So, if McCain had made his selection six months ago, the squeaky-clean governor meme would have made a little more sense.  But, Sarah Palin is currently under an ethics investigation by the Alaska state legislature.  The details of this investigation read like a trashy novel, and I suspect that the players will soon have newfound celebrity on the national stage.  I’ll try to explain for all you non-Alaskans who suddenly have good reason to want to know more about Sarah Palin. (continue reading)