Bruises, palate cleanses and the perils of red lipstick.

I know it’s been a good weekend when I wake up to bruises on my boobs.

I wish I could have found a more eloquent way to put that but alas, after typing and retyping, that’s the best way I can phrase it. I got up this morning and while brushing my teeth and thanking God for good boobs, noticed a bunch of little post hook up bruises. It was one of those times where I really wish I had roommates because in my opinion, that is high five worthy.

In case you haven’t already gathered, my life is slowly coming back together and reaching a place of pseudo normalcy. And now I can brag that I had my first drunk gay overnighter! Take your slutshaming elsewhere, I am very proud of myself. Snaps for me.

Now I’m not advocating mindless, casual sex for everyone. But sometimes, you need what I call a palate cleanse.

My need for a cleanse was two-fold. For one thing, I’ve had a rough couple of weeks here. And I finally got it together and pulled myself up to a place of emotional clarity and made some big decisions, like staying in Austin for the summer and making it work. I was ready to leave the depressed, tear soaked wreck from last week behind.  For me, that meant going out and actually enjoying myself, and having the confidence to go for something I wanted. That confidence apparently showed well, because my Friday night was filled with ladies buying me drinks and shots and doling out compliments. Lesson learned: never underestimate confidence and a good pushup bra. That is power right there.

The other reason runs a little deeper. A few weeks ago I shared my experience with a girl I fell pretty hard for and had to friendzone at the risk of getting myself hurt. Confession: she did not make that easy. She must know she’s still got me under her thumb, because I crumble as soon as I get an ‘I’m thinking about you’ text or when she gives me the time of day at a bar. It’s bad. And really embarrassing. And I need it to stop.

So how do I make that happen? Palate cleanse. Have you ever noticed that the last person you slept with (who you had serious feelings for) tends to have a certain power over you? It happens to me frequently.  Sometimes, the only way to get it to stop is to allow yourself to be with someone else, even if it is casual. I can’t let that person  who meant to so much to me be the last person I slept with. As soon as they’re not the last person to share that level of intimacy with me, a good amount of that hold disintegrates, making it easier to walk away or ignore a text message. At least, that’s how it works for me. Is it that way for y’all?

I don’t know where things are going to go with this latest person. It might be just a hookup, it might be more, but it’s worth letting go enough to find out. I think at the end of the day, that decision to let go of what could have been is what really matters.

On a final note from this weekend: It’s time for me to get a longwear red lipstick, because when your own lip color is all over your neck in the morning, you know you have a problem. Butch girls wearing my Ruby Woo sounds sexy in theory, but in practice, it’s really just messy.

Thank you all so much for the advice and loving in the comments and on Twitter recently! I may not know you, but your support has been amazing. You guys are the best.

Austin girls and bois: See you guys at Lesbian Wedding today, 2 p.m., Sahara Lounge!

Queerly Yours,




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