I spent the better half of my twenties as a shut-in for a lot of reasons; agoraphobia, low self-esteem, PlayStation. But I broke out of the shag-carpeted prison of my parents basement for one primary reason. I was lonely, pathologically fucking lonely, and I'm not just talking about being horny, though, yeah, twenty-nine years is a long time to wait to get laid. More than nookie though, I need a partner in crime, an accomplice, a Bonnie to my Clyde, a Sid to my Nancy, a Kurt to my Courtney, a Micky to my Mallory. Unfortunately for me, I'm out of work, I flaked out of school, I don't drink, and I don't even believe in the concept of the church. I also find online dating services to be obnoxiously impersonal. But I do have a blog. It may not be the best blog on the block or even the most popular but it's MY goddamn blog and I can do whatever the fuck I want with it. And this Valentines Day I want to pull the shotgun out of my mouth and turn my blog into the worlds weirdest lonely hearts add for the worlds weirdest lonely heart. So, fuck it, here we go.
I am a trans-feminine, gender-fluid, butch-lesbian with a heart of gold but I'm probably too burly to ever pass as anything but a gender-bending dude so I honestly don't give a fuck how you identify as long as you possess a reasonably well maintained vagina (I figure one of us should have one). I would love nothing more on this earth than to be in a committed lesbian relationship but not every dyke is open minded enough to see past the beard and I've made my peace with that. I'm not gonna lie to you, I'm kind of a tough sell. I guess you could say I'm kind of the basket-case-starving-artist type, so I'm never gonna make you a lot of money. But what I lack in material goods I more than make up for with intangibles. Being the genderfuck Ursula that I am, I like to think I offer the best of both genders. I have all the bearish girth of a pre-diabetic mountain man but all the sensitive emotional availability of a bleeding-vadge girlfriend. On top of that, being in the unique position of being a dyke with a dick, I've come to appreciate female genitalia with an O'Keeffe-like fervor that verges on the fetishistic. So you'll never have to ask me twice for head. Truth be told, you'll probably need a goddamn forklift to pull me out of there.
I'm something of a homebody (shock!) with a love for couch-surfing, foreign horror movies (Audition, Let the Right One In), American Chinese food and noisy guitar pop (Big Star, Hole, Nirvana, etc.). I'm an anarchist but not the violent kind. I'm a Marxist but not the boring kind. And I'm a feminist but not the annoying kind. Basically I'm pro-pot, pro-gun, pro-union, sex-positive and antiwar. I guess you could say that I'm something of a Christian Existentialist who belongs to the church of Who-the-fuck-knows/Who-the-fuck-cares. I'm also an open minded power-bottom who's down for rope, wax, pegging, piss or whatever (I officially apologize to my aunt if she still reads this blog) but I'm also totally fine with just slothing out on the couch and snuggling with a Netflix.
The kind of girl I'm looking for reveals what a conflicted fucking cunt I am. I'm a fat Irish bitch looking for a petite brunette who likes to eat and is virtually anything between black and white; Latina, Asian, Jewish, biracial, Klingon. I also have a thing for tomboys but I despise sports. I like the spitfire type but I bruise easily. And I've always loved it when girls defend me in an argument. Us against the world is my favorite lifestyle choice. My other idiosyncratic turn-on's include glasses, pig-tales, black lipstick, pleaded skirts, combat boots and musicians. I'm a total fucking fan-girl. The only thing sexier than a girl with a guitar is a girl behind a drum-kit. My turn-off's include bottle-blondes, fake tits, vegans, high heels, bigots and vapid shallow people. If you're into keeping up appearances, minding your manors or watching your language and use the word normal for anything but a pejorative synonymous with fascist then please feel free to fuck off. However, if you're a bomb-throwing manic-pixie-scream-grrrl with a taste for fat scag-drag-fag-hags you may have just found yourself a Princess Charmless to slack off, hang out and occasionally burn stuff with.
I may be a hopeless romantic but I'm not a stupid one. I realize that this post is a fucking long shot and that the odds of me achieving much more than talking to myself again are about as likely as a successful Trump impeachment. But on a day as soul-shatteringly depressing as Valentines Day, a day designed by the Illuminati to torture the lonely, it feels good to dream big and shoot for the rafters. And who knows, maybe I've horded just enough good karma to cash in for a miracle. Agnosticism aside, I still believe in true love. You have your stupid butt-hole gods and I have mine.
Calling all lonely hearts.... Calling all lonely hearts....
It's cold out there, dearest motherfuckers. Keep warm and hold each other tight. We may be all we've got.
Peace, Love and Empathy- CH
Soundtrack; Songs that influenced this post.
* True Love Baby By Father John Misty
* Softer Softest By Hole
* Thirteen By Big Star
* Love Buzz By Nirvana
* Head-On By The Pixies
* Fell In Love With A Girl By The White Stripes
* Southwood Plantation Road By The Mountain Goats
* If You Don't Love Me (I'll Kill Myself) By Pete Droge
* Whole Wide World By Wreckless Eric
* About A Girl By Nirvana