Friends? Never!

Dear Butch,

I need few things in life.  Water.  My nephew. Air.  A well-fitting and supportive bra.  Food.  Kinky sex.  Shelter.

I don’t need to be friends with my ex-butches and that need for you with me (and the others you have left in your path destruction) puzzles me. You and I don’t need to be anything to each other anymore.  Really, I promise, despite lesbian culture.

I don’t U-Haul and I don’t promise friendship after a breakup.  You might as well take away my queer girl card now.

Relationships in my mind are much like a book.  They have a beginning that grabs your attention, the middle that keeps you from walking away, a climax that explodes, and the conclusion that wraps it all up in a neat package.  you then close the book and move on to the next.  Our book has closed, and with a disturbing thump at that.  And now you are pushing that we remain friends.  I am not sure why.  We weren’t friends before we started dating and you insisted on treating me like shit.  Do you really think I am going just accept you request and forget that you are a douchebag?  The answer, as my nephew would put it, is “No way silly goose!”  I may date douchebags (damn my love of the rebel dyke), but I like to keep company with friends who are kind and courteous.

And as you should know, I am friends with only a few of my ex-butches.  If you actually paid attention, there is one strong personality feature that ties these select individuals together.  They all were wonderful to me when we were together and remain to be respectful and polite after we ended.  Sadly, you are not going to make it into this selective club.

I don’t often reference my heterosexual friends, but you could learn an important lesson from them regarding this subject.  How often do you hear them talking about becoming friends with their formers?  Almost never.  Look to our straight sisters (and brothers) and study their breakup rituals.

So, step off silly goose.

Love,

Femme

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