I have never seen a femme-femme friendship that runs as deep and pure as a butch-butch friendship. Sure, we play nice with others from our same pool, but there always seems to be an unnamed element that disallows us to delve beyond semi-superficial “besties”.
There is something about a “Butch Br0-mance” that makes this lady squeal with delight. A girly lovely squeal with an added full body blush and clasped painted fingers.
The bond that butches have with their own breed is so powerfully beautiful. The almost instant feeling of love and compassion coming from the rough flannel covered exterior is gorgeous. There is this unspoken understanding that occurs, all of the struggles and self-doubts are exchanged with little to no verbal communication. And then, in the same silent fashion. There is healing that is passed on, like a torch in the night. It is like the butch breed was born with a microchip that allows them to read the minds of other butches. The two or three or many-some become so tightly woven, like an army of cable knit lesbians. There is trust, (non-sexual) intimacy, support, encouragement, and forgiveness. Between generations, races, cultures, genders identities, religions, econimcal statuses…you gather and conquer as one. It is so fasiniating to watch from across the bar, the bond between my adored butches. There is this small ping of jealous that occurs, shortly followed by a stronger ting of lust. Because, two butches is always better then one.
Thank you for never leaving your fellow butch behind.