Much delayed post, as usual. I promised you a write-up of my first lesbian night in my Canadian city. I’m gonna make it quick because I have other things I want to talk about…which I should warn you are not so happy-go-lucky. But they’re hopeful!
As I mentioned last time, I went to my first lesbian night in this city with a reader of this blog. We actually went to another one since the last time I wrote. So if you’re counting you’ll realize that means that we’ve gone to two of these nights now!
So how were the nights? They were alright. The girls at the club were prettier the second time than the first and the music was way better the second time around. It was great to be with women who liked women in a setting where we could be ourselves. However, still not anything close to my first time at a lesbian club with other people who knew I liked the ladies. Though I doubt many lesbian nights will come close to that night!
I have no delusions of meeting a girl at the club because I am too shy to approach any girl. Also, based on my experiences the last couple times, I don’t know that I’ll get approached by any here either. I think I am oozing a certain aura that is keeping the girls away. Probably something like “Don’t come near me!” or
I dunno. Although I have really been trying since I moved back to Canada, I feel like my behaviour here is following the pattern it has always followed. That is, it is markedly different from my behaviour when I am away. And a big part of the reason for that is that my family lives here and I live with them. Let me explain…
I have lived in this city on and off for the past ten years. However, before my return in late Spring this year, I had only ever been to a club here 3 or 4 times, certainly less than 5. Before this summer, I could also count the number of times I was out past midnight or went drinking. And I’d only ever been drunk once before in this city. I am also the oldest child so I have a lot of familial responsibility when I’m home.
My friends here also reflect the type of person I am here. Most of them live at home with their parents. And have never lived away from home. They are not party people. At all. They don’t really drink. They barely go out. In fact, I am the one who is always initiating get-togethers or outings. They are definitely not spontaneous or risk-takers. Most of them are worse than I am about opening up about themselves or their feelings much. I still feel like I don’t really know them when I’ve actually known them for over 5 years now. Plus, it takes so much fucking planning to get us all together that sometimes I just say screw it and not even try. And then I only end up hanging out with my closest friend of the lot, doing things here and there. She is a pretty good friend but we are quite different so the list of things we can do and both enjoy is short.
Sorry. I know I’m being an ungrateful wretch.
Let me finish though!
In the summer I tried to change the state of things by making new friends. I was going out to meetups and social events to meet people and make new friends. Except, as I reported, it is hard to make real friends! And the one or two friends I made are also mostly cut from the same socially conservative cloth of the ones I already have (sidenote: granted these are conservatives by Canadian standards, meaning in the US they would probably be just left of center).
It’s like because I know that I have to go home and report on my activities I subconsciously surround myself with people who will help ensure that I NEVER find myself in situations where I make stupid decisions. Where I won’t do the stupid shit I’m accustomed to doing when I live away from home. And trust me, the stuff I’ve mentioned on my posts on this blog and my old blog these past two years did not start shortly before I started the old blog. I wasn’t partying, drinking and generally making bad decisions every weekend just because I was in grad school and trying to figure out my sexuality. Oh no. I generally do stupid stuff (usually related to drinking, partying and risk-taking) EVERY TIME I go away to live somewhere else. I meet new people with diverse viewpoints and in the process become more open-minded each time. I tend to meet potential partners when away (or at least get to be in situations where people are interested in me). I also, of course, generally learn more about myself when I am away and on my own. I just happened to do more of all those things in grad school when I was figuring things out :).
I like partying, going out and socializing but I’ve always joked that I only ever do that when I’m away from my current city. I think it’s so sad that I know other cities I’ve lived in (places to go, things to do, social scene, etc) waaay better than the one here or in my hometown city. This is truly cause for sadness because this city is actually pretty fecking amazing.
Anyways, the big problem is that when I come back home to my family, there always comes a time when I start feeling restless, a time where I want to have experiences similar to the ones I have when I’m away. Before the self-awareness about my sexuality kicked in, I never really considered moving out from my family’s house when I live in the same city. Doing that is a big no-no for unmarried women in my culture and it would take lots of discussion and convincing to get my parents to accept it. So, long before my sexuality journey began, I realized that, in this city, I could never get the types of experiences I have when I am away because many of those experiences are borne from independence. And I would usually start looking for a way to escape to live somewhere else for at least a few months. That was the easiest path to discovering more of myself. I’ve spoken about this before, here on my previous blog.
Peoples, I think I am at that point now.
The restlessness has definitely taken a-hold of me. I also have some family issues going on and they are stressing me out. In addition, the fact that I have to keep things from my family is adding to it all. I’ve always been really close with my family and it is hard to be living with them and telling them lies about my whereabouts, who I’m hanging out with and where I know people from. Worse is that I work from home so I am literally home almost all the time.
When I had uber-stressful times during my years in grad school I tended to ignore them by partying and going out. Here I can’t do that…Because I don’t have many people to go out with.
My life always seems to come to a relatively abrupt standstill when I move home.
This time, with the newfound knowledge of my sexuality, I worry that I am losing myself. I worry that my worst fears are coming true. That I am reverting. And that it will only get worse the longer I stay here.
So my flight response is kicking in. Big time.
I’m trying really hard to keep this flight response stifled. So far, I’ve resisted all urge to start researching a new city to move to (my usual next step when the restlessness comes). To help with the feeling of wanting to get away, I’ve gone on little mini-trips away from the city. I have one planned for the new year and I’m hoping to do another get away in the spring. I’ve also made a couple queer friends here lately (including one reader of this blog!) and I’m trying to focus on fostering these new friendships so we can go out and enjoy this city. Next year when spring comes I will try to make more new friends again. And I’m planning to move out at the end of spring next year, no later than summer, because I think a big part of my emotional troubles now come from me living at home. I’ve been prepping my parents for this move ever since I got back. Having a timeline in place gives me something to look forward to…I’m basically trying to give myself many reasons to stay here and to give this city a real, fighting chance. Because this city is awesome and ideal for a queer woman to live in. I just haven’t taken advantage of all it has to offer yet.
So I will try to stick to my plan to get to know it better. To enjoy it. And to find my place here.