Being a femme can be tough. Not knowing what you or others in butch population is looking for. Should I turn down the class and up the trash? Are you okay with plus size girls or do you prefer woman with non-touching thighs? Blondes, brunettes, gingers, ravens, or completely bald? Tits or ass? 1950’s naughty nice girl or 2000’s Lil’ Kim? My head is spinning with the possibilities. We all have our own preferences, deal breakers, and immediate turn ons. I just wish there was a way to gain a little insight before I make a complete fool of myself.
These ponders come from our brief interaction. I watched you from across the bar a few weeks ago, not in the creepy stalker kind of way, but the “I can’t believe how incredibly hot you and your friend are and I think we would make a lovely sandwich” kind of way. I made a move and headed towards the bar, we caught eyes and you headed in the same direction. Both breaking away from our gaggle of friends. I order a ginger and Jameson and you order a beer. I make small talk and sneak a peek at your well packed Levis and you are unable to take your eyes off my well displayed cleavage. We both are shooting “We should be naked and horizontal with each other by the end of the night” vibes. I make my way back to my table, knowing that you are checking out my ass. There is a drag show that is about to start but I have hopes that we will meet up on the dance floor afterwards. I return to my table to inform my friends of our interactions, turn around to slyly point you out, and you are hitting on a super tramp. I know I didn’t read you wrong, I know you didn’t read me wrong. I am not shocked that you are flirting, more that this girl looks nothing like me either in dress or body shape. We never meet on the dance floor, half way through a bad drag rendition of some cheesy Celine Dion song you leave with the super tramp.
What the fuck do you want?
Wait, maybe that is a bit to vague. Take two:
What the fuckity fuck do you want in a femme?