That Shit [show] Was Bananas

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I don’t know when and I don’t really know why (okay I know why… I wasn’t attracted to her, despite my best efforts) but I decided it was well past time to break things off with Shmordan. Now, one might think that I would be a mature adult about this situation, sit her down, try to do things amicably…but clearly you don’t know me, or particularly not 19-year-old-shit-show me. My way of solving things was either avoiding them altogether or finding the most offensive way possible to cause the situation to implode (in later years this would be a topic of many sessions with my therapist).

It was sometime in the Fall and we were having a party at my apartment. Shmordan was coming because we were sort of a thing, obvi, but Shmashley 2 was going to be there too — because she was always there. At this time even though we had moved out of the dorms we were still best friends, and we were still-too-flirty-for-comfort-best-friends. We had lots of sleepovers, cuddled while binge-watching Dexter, had naked Margarita Days together, y’know, we were your typical All-American gal pals.

*Theme music and opening credits play*

Many a party were thrown at our 4-bedroom apartment sophomore year. It was the literal best party-throwing apartment. It was in the back of the complex, our neighbors were gay boys who liked to rage, and the place had no carpet, two living areas, a central kitchen, and two balconies. I mean honestly, they were just asking for us to get drunk and throw up all over that bitch.

**Completely unrelated side story about this apartment complex: One time we found a toilet on the side of the road and decided we should take it because why not. We kept it on our back porch along with some camp chairs for some humorous seating options… Well the apartment complex staff didn’t find it quite so funny and we received a call one day asking why we had removed one of the four toilets from our apartment, and whether or not we needed maintenance to come out. We tried to politely explain that we were all art students and we had the toilet for an art project (seemed a better explanation than “we use it as a weird chair”) but they told us we had to remove it from our balcony because, and I quote, “This is not a junkyard.”**

Anyyyyyway, we were having a party. Shmordan was there, Shmashley 2 was there, I mean LOTS of ladies were there. I would say 99% of the people at our parties were ladies, the only dude regularly in attendance was our male roommate, who wasn’t queer but was super artsy so that’s almost the same thing.

I’m not sure how it happened (okay I know how it happened, Shmashley 2 showed up with her boobs out to play and I’m only human) but before I knew it I was making out with Shmashley in the middle of the living room. When I came up for air I locked eyes with Shmordan who was clearly peeved at me because she looked like she wanted to punch me right in the money-maker. Except, she didn’t. She did the unthinkable instead and threw a beer on me and left. I was appalled, who did this girl think she was? We were poor underage college kids and beer should not be wasted like that. She could’ve gone and filled up a glass of tap water and achieved the same dramatic effect. Like. Come one. Have some respect for the Miller Lite!

Having things thrown at me became a trend of that night, because apparently Shmashley and I were attached so fervently at the lips (apparently we looked like that dumbass kid from “A Christmas Story” when he gets stuck to that frozen metal pole) that Shmoebe and Courtney made a game of throwing a banana at us; the way you’d spray a misbehaving cat with a water bottle. Throwing beers? Unacceptable. Throwing bananas? Play on. I was a little (a lotta) intoxicated so I didn’t remember this potassium-filled-pummeling but the next morning I woke up beside Shmashley in my bed with my hair caked full of unknown mush. I was later informed that it was banana, which is better than the alternative — it could have been vomit, semen, paper mache, or any horrible combination of the three.

I had opened a pandora’s box by publicly hooking up with Shmashley 2 again, not only because her parents were conservative bigots who didn’t like the gays, but also because she was fucking my male roommate. It would become a thing that she would alternate sleeping with us and somehow we were okay with this? I couldn’t tell you why. Shmashley just had this way about her, where she always had your attention, and she could play you like one of those fucking tamagotchi pets.

Besides me, Shashley 2 went on to hook up with a few ladies (spoiler alert), but it would be quite some time before she admitted to being even a little bit queer; actually coining the term “half-gay” in regards to herself. Someone could have informed her that being bisexual was a thing, but “half-gay” has a nice ring to it. And so began a saga of on-again-off-again hook-ups which led to a slew of jealous boyfriends of hers hating my guts. I would hate me too, I’m rather pretty.

*Next week on nobody scissors: my best friend gets me a threesome for her birthday (yes you read that right)*

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Momma Didn’t Raise No Quitter

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The end of Shmarriet came about as quick as the beginning. One day Courtney and her were lounging around in Courtney’s bedroom and Shmellen came home with our roommate after some tae kwon do class they had together. She burst into Courtney’s room and found Shmarriet on top of Courtney, and her response was to walk up extend her hand and confidently say, “Hi I’m Shmellen, I’m sure you’ve heard all about me.” Before turning around and leaving in a blur of self-confident cattiness.

Shmarriet scurried from our apartment like one of those creepy people in those scary movies who crab walk on the ceiling (yikes) and I don’t think I ever saw her again. From what I’ve gathered from social media she is back with her ex girlfriend (remember the one who was on the lacrosse team? yeah, I called that one). Courtney, not going to say that you dodged a bullet there, but you dodged a bullet there.

*Theme music and opening credits play*

I was still enjoying the life that was singledom, I had stopped seeing Shmanielle, as things just weren’t clicking with us and her having the same name as my sister was just fucking weird, okay?? I was living it up and by living it up I mean I was going to rugby practice three times a week and spending the rest of my waking hours in the art building like the little nerd I was. So I guess it’s no surprise that the next girl who I went out with was a teammate, seeing as those were the only ladies I was regularly around. I mean thinking back there were some hot more-than-likely-at-least-a-little-bit-gay girls in my art and design classes, but I have an insane fear of rejection and couldn’t risk asking them out. I just couldn’t. So I settled for the obviously gay and more-than-likely-not-going-to-turn-me-down pool of ladies that was our rugby team. Here’s a hot tip from me to everyone out there in the dating world: sometimes, you put yourself into situations that you know you’re going to succeed in and you call it “game”. It makes you look good and it ups your percentages while also pumping up your ego. You’re welcome.

Shmordan was older than me (sensing a theme yet?), covered in tattoos, had beautiful blue eyes, short hair, and was into hula hooping before it became the hipster craze that it is now. I wouldn’t say she was stunning by any means, years later she would have a pretty hot “i do a lot of coke” aesthetic… but she was incredibly sweet, and she had a dog, which I liked.

It should be noted that she took me on the best date I had been on up until that point in my short little queer dating life. She took me hiking up to a lookout over the city, we went to the botanical gardens, ate tacos, an explored the eclectic thrift shops downtown that are full of costumes, old medical equipment, vintage photographs, and baby doll heads. Yeah, I know that I said that this was the best date that I had ever been on and that what I just described sounds like something out of a horror movie — so I am aware that I might be sending y’all some mixed signals. With all of the weirdness, this date was actually amazing.

I really had zero attraction to her, but I actually enjoyed our time together… now this is where most people would step back and say “we should just be friends” because that’s a normal and acceptable response to enjoying time with a person and not wanting to fuck them. So naturally what I did wasn’t that. Yup, I fucked her. Momma didn’t raise no quitter.

I can’t remember much about our sexual encounter, I think maybe I was drunk but I can’t really remember. I remember that her bed was on the floor of her apartment, she had big boobs and even bigger nipples, but besides that, nothing. I guess that means it could have been better because it also could have been worse. Sometimes unmemorable is a good thing — I mean you could fuck someone and then they reveal to you that they can talk to ghosts on a daily basis. Since the sex was so unforgettable and there was no real chemistry, I did the totally understandable thing and continued to date Shmordan for a couple of weeks. BECAUSE WHY WOULDN’T I DO THAT? One day, I might learn from my mistakes, but this was not that day.

*Next Time on Nobody Scissors I break up with Shmordan in possibly the shittiest way imaginable* 

Girls Just Wanna Have Fun

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Occasionally (by “occasionally” I mean very rarely) things happen in the lives of the people around me that are more of a shitshow than my own life. When these things happen I love to sit back and enjoy the ride. All of my friends know that I’m the type of person that will never judge them for their decisions, and will probably have some word of advice based on my own previous mistakes to lend to them in their time of need. They also know that I just love a first row seat to whatever drama is going on as long as I’m not the center of it.

Around this time where I was single and mingling, Courtney was also single for a millisecond or two. Courtney is a serial monogamist, she’s seen the beautiful ray of light that is single-dom for about a collective 48 hours in the last 5 years, so this was a pretty rare thing. Now, this time around Courtney was really heartbroken and completely dead-set on being single. She had even possibly made a declaration swearing off of women (yeah, we didn’t believe that one either). We were at a lacrosse game because gay, and this blonde in the bleachers near us kept making eyes at Courtney who was about as clueless as the girls from Clueless. When we were done watching the lady gays run around and hit each other with sticks (lacrosse is a weird sport), we headed back to our apartment.

Courtney gets a facebook message almost the minute she walked through our front door, from someone she didn’t know. As she pulled up their profile she turned to us and asked if the girl looked at all familiar — I rolled my eyes and informed her of the not-so-subtle-checking-out that was going down at the game.

*Theme music and opening credits play*

Message: Hi! I saw you at the lacrosse game where I was watching my ex-gf play *anyone else’s alarms going off? no? just me? okay* and couldn’t help but notice how hot you were, and was wondering if you wanted to go out sometime. Maybe adopt a cat? Who, knows. (Maybe she didn’t say the cat part, I could be embellishing here, but you never know with lesbians!)

Okay so that is some next level stalking considering we had no mutual friends with this girl. We found out later she had found a girl who knew a girl that we played rugby with then had scanned our group pictures and found Courtney’s profile that way. Major sleuthing skills, Harriet the Spy.

Before I knew it Courtney and let’s call her Shmarriet had a date the following evening. They agreed to hit up the dollar theatre in our college town and watch the final installment of Harry Potter (nice going, Shmarriet! She could not have played that more perfectly). Well, I wasn’t on that date but I did drop Courtney off and tell her to text me when she needed a ride home or an escape plan. I’m not going to say I was waiting around our apartment like an over-protective father , but I was. I’m also not going to say that Courtney didn’t come home that night because what kind of girl do you think she is?? But she didn’t come home that night and I didn’t see her ass until our 8am class the next morning when she walk-of-shamed her way into the room looking like she hadn’t slept at all the night before. I will give her this: she was responsible in her skankiness. Just kidding, I’m not going to slut-shame anyone here. But kudos to Courtney for making it to that God forsaken morning class after not-scissoring a new lady friend all night long.

This whirlwind romance with Shmarriet kicked into fourth gear from day one — the next thing I knew, Shmarriet was practically moved into our place and her and Courtney were attached at the hip. Nice going on the whole “single” thing there, twin. Now, this type of thing is a cliche in the lesbian world; “uhauling” is something we all joke about but it’s a very real epidemic and I witnessed it first hand with these two. Even though I was annoyed at Courtney’s lack of commitment to the single life that I was so accustomed to, Shmarriet seemed like a good time. She fooled us all into thinking that she was this happy-go-lucky blonde bombshell who didn’t have a care in the world, the type of girl whose theme song might be “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” but not in an ironic way. And, boy, this girl did just want to have fun but she was also batshit crazy. Which, to some people, might also be fun. When you aren’t dating said crazy person that shit is entertaining and mostly fun to be around especially when it leads to some insane, possibly illegal, adventure.

One night, Shmarriet got the hair-brained idea that we should go teach Shmellen a lesson for breaking Courtney’s heart. How would we do that, you ask? Well, we would go spend an inordinate amount of money on feminine hygiene products and stick them all over Shmellen’s trusty steed, El Grande Rojo. First of all: Why the hell are pads so expensive? I would go onto a rant about pink taxes and hygiene product necessities, but I don’t want to kill anyone’s buzz — but COME ON. Second of all: We did not realize the amount of work it took to remove pads (there were also condoms) from the exterior of a vehicle nor the extent of the damage that the little bit of adhesive could do. So, Shmellen, if you’re reading this: I’m sorry. We’re all sorry. Grande Rojo deserved better.

*Next Time on Nobody Scissors I don’t know the meaning of “don’t shit where you eat”* 

Climb Me Like a Tree

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It should be noted that this was around the time that I chopped my hair off. I looked like the biebs and I had never felt hotter. Women had also never been more into me. It’s like I cut my hair off and suddenly became crack to lesbians. I’m not even exaggerating. Not only was the Bieber thing all the rage with the ladies, but I was finally starting to feel good about how I looked. More often than not, your attractiveness to others has a direct correlation to your own confidence and how you carry yourself. These initial steps into my own were the proverbial first flight out of the nest by a young, androgynous, baby bird. Little did I know that “The Bieber Swoosh™” wouldn’t be my final form (thank God) — there was only up from here.

*Theme music and opening credits play*

This makes my next hookup/relationship/whatever the hell it was even more confusing. To be honest Courtney had ridiculed me for being shallow (kinda weird seeing as my first girlfriend wasn’t exactly arm candy. She was like arm-sugar-free-breathmint-that-your-grandma-pulls-out-of-the-bottom-of-her-purse-in-church). Besides that my taste in women consisted entirely of the posts on my walls of Kristen Stewart and Abby Wambach, as I was just newly single and hadn’t yet tried out my powers of persuasion on the small pool of Central Texas Lesbians I was soon to dive into.

Anyway, I took this comment to heart and decided that maybe I should get to know someone based on their personality more so than just their physical traits, and give them a chance even if there was no initial attraction. I ended up trying this out with several women, and though it may be a good theory on paper (not really a good theory at all actually), if you are not attracted on even a base level you can only take that so far and you seem even more like a dick when you’re not wanting to jump that person’s bones further down the road.

Shmanielle looked exactly like Rosie O’Donnel, which isn’t exactly anyone’s Celesbian dream crush. I had to change Shmanielle’s name for privacy’s sake but it should be known she had the same name as my twin so I never EVER moaned her name in bed.

Based on personality alone this girl was pretty perf, we had tons in common. She was older than me (basically a requirement for me when it comes to interest in a person). We met on tumblr (the tinder of that era) and she was a student teacher at my old high school, training to be a PE coach, the gayest teaching position imaginable.

One time I went to visit her at work, while kids pummeled each other with dodgeballs. The pubescent gremlins couldn’t quite figure me out and kept sing-songing at their coach asking if I was her boyfriend or girlfriend. After several minutes a few 14-year-old girls came over to me and made me incredibly uncomfortable by telling me I was cute (Bieber swag, holla). I skulked away into my old stomping grounds that was the women’s locker room and waited until she met me after class.

I joked that old memories were resurfacing, seeing as this was the locker room of many a hookup with Shmashley 1. We didn’t hook up that day, or for many dates after that, probably due to my lack of attraction.

Let me tell you there are few things more awkward than knowing someone is VERY into you and you can hardly feign a sexy smirk in their direction. Literally the only things I can think of that are more awkward are: Having sex with someone who tries to bust out rubber gloves in a non-Grey’s-Anatomy roleplay situation (true story), looking for something in your parents’ room and finding not one buy FIVE vibrators (also a true story), and having your mother throw you a “period party” when you and your twin sister hit puberty and start your periods (you decide if that’s a true story).

Now this is nothing against this girl, at all. She was great. A coach, funny as hell (she dressed as Megan from Bridesmaids for Halloween and KILLED it), a former rugby player and swimmer (hot combo), had fantastic taste in music, great taste in bad scary movies (one of my fave genres), and she played the guitar for me once and sang me some love song I really liked (I have only ever had one person play the guitar for me to this day and it was her). Oh! Also she rapped Underground Kings by Drake to me and that was the turning point for when I actually was pretty turned on, I mean, something about a white girl from a private college spitting rhymes at me really got my juices flowing (who talks like that??).

A defining thing about this relationship (it wasn’t really a relationship but what else do you call like casually dating a person in the past?) was that she was the first person I ever kissed who had a tongue ring and I was totally into. Also she was the first person to ever kiss/lick/tongue my ears and holy god is that the most amazing feeling ever. Thanks Shmanielle.

*Next Time on Nobody Scissors let’s talk about someone besides me for once*