If the Birkenstock Fits

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Shmenn and I were taking the next step in our relationship — because the last one had gone so well. Anyone else remember last time’s proposal mishap? I’ve been trying to wipe it from my memory for years now.

What really led to my moving in with Shmenn was a few things. My lease was up, she was a leasing agent and could get us the “hook up” if you will, and my current roommate/soon to be ex best friend decided to break up with Courtney and me.

*Theme music and opening credits play*

No, you heard me right, break up. She sat us down after seven years of friendship — 1/3 of my life — and said, “You’re just not the type of people I seek out as friends.” I was a little thrown. WHAT DO YOU MEAN? There is no seeking. We did that freshman year of high school. We’d already found each other… Back when I got sat next to this lanky girl with a Naruto backpack, who fell asleep every day in Biology, and wrote crazy Christian fanatic notes about how evolution was a lie and God put dinosaurs on the earth to “test our faith.” Like some big cosmic scavenger hunt. Newsflash, that isn’t a test, a test is when your girlfriend says she “doesn’t want anything for Valentine’s Day” (which is code for, you better get me something for Valentine’s Day and not fuck this up), dinosaurs are science.

I’m not really sure why I saw this weirdo and befriended her, but I did. We were on the basketball team together but honestly I was afraid she was going to murder me as a sacrifice to the One True God and then wear my skin to her birthday. But after all those red flags and things we didn’t have in common, I chose to be her friend — and now she wanted to get rid of me??

Fast forward 7 years. We had been besties throughout high school. She somehow didn’t have an aneurism when Courtney and I both came out as gay (though her mom did offer to pray for me which is the most annoying response ever to coming out, in my oh-so-gay-opinion). And we proceeded to go to college together where we had the same major, lived in the same dorm and went on to share two apartments together. I think we had established that yes, we were EXACTLY the type of people we sought out in friendships, we might’ve actually been pretty damn good at this whole friendship thing.

But here we were, breaking up. I tried to take it in stride, knowing I had always been a good friend to her, but it felt like betrayal, and kind of like losing a family member. Her words were thinly veiled homophobia and code for “I’ve met boys and everyone assumes I’m gay when I’m with you, but I like the D, so I need to hang with a less rainbow crowd.” No really, this was the underlying issue. But we weren’t the issue, the issue was: her avid plaid wearing, her beanie collection that rivaled that of Shawn White, coupled with “boyish” interests in things like video games and sports, come on now… if the Birkenstock fits.

So with no extra roommate it was either Courtney and me against the world or move in with Shmenn — the latter seemed more financially responsible and not altogether like the worst idea ever.

Our apartment was a little ways away from campus, all of our neighbors were gay (the leasing agent totally stereotyped us. Oh wait, Shmenn leased us this place…) and it seemed like despite the rescinded ring exchange me and Shmenn were “fine.”

If you’re ever in a relationship that you describe as “fine” —  get out. “Fine” isn’t your soulmate, “fine” is…well…fine.

Pride was coming up, as was my final semester in school. I had my entire adult life to look forward to.

I got too comfortable.

Next week on Nobody Scissors… when you’re right, you’re right. 

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I have no cue where the keys are

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Shmenn came home like she had just found a lost puppy… which basically she had.

“Chris, there’s this helpless, cute little queer who just moved in and we have to take them out for their birthday. They don’t know anyone.” She pouted her lip, she batted her eyelashes, the whole nine yards. Leave it to Shmenn to befriend a new resident on the property she worked at and think it was our job to show them the town.

“Shmenn, I don’t think that this person is going to want us to take them out. They don’t even know us.”
“Oh no, he does. I already told him we are going.” She skipped off and I had no idea what to expect for the evening.

*Theme music and opening credits play*

The night I’m about to describe to you is one of my favorite nights so far in my existence, I remember it like it was yesterday. And by remember it like it was yesterday I mean, I don’t remember much of it at all. But I have the blurry pictures and a stolen cue ball to remember it by. More on that later.

We made it downtown to the Circle, headed into one of the local bars that was located in a basement and allowed you to still smoke inside like it was 1993, and proceeded to play skee ball until this guy showed up.

Sidenote: When I met this person they went by a different name and ID’ed as a lesbian, but for simplicity’s sake we are going to use he/him pronouns and their later (though changed for privacy) name.

In walks a person very similar looking to me. Similar build, androgynous, possibly trans (but definitely pre-testosterone) individual, with a lot of swagger behind a fairly shy looking face.

I distinctly remember the fact that Shmennifer looked enthralled with this person, but also that she turned and hissed at me, “He’s not your new Shmavis, not everyone is uncomfortable with how they are, so don’t go expecting anything out of him.” Looking back that is a SHITTY fucking thing to say to someone, especially a transgender someone. And also, I know a lot of trans people will disagree (you can’t judge a book by their cover, blah blah blah) but you kind of get a feeling when you meet another gender non-conforming individual, certain vibes just roll off of them, your ears perk up, cartoon birds start to sing in the distance.

I wasn’t sure what to say so I just turned to introduce myself, he extended a fairly tattooed arm and said, “Hi, I’m Shmelly.” The rest was history.

We drank so many shots at the bar we began at that we must have consumed all the vodka in that joint, though that didn’t stop us. There were at least a dozen bars in this strip downtown and we were going to show Shmelly every single one of them.

The night comes and goes for me when I think back on it. Like I’m watching a flip book missing a fuckton of pages. I had a particularly vivid memory (and a nasty bruise) of dancing at the only club in town, getting picked up by Shmelly and toppling to the ground in a heap. We laughed our asses off until a bouncer came over and literally told us to “get our shit together” or we would get kicked out. Shmelly left the dancefloor and leaned against a booth before falling right over the back of the seat into the lap of some other patrons and was picked up by the scruff of his neck like a puppy by the man who had just reprimanded us. We both smiled and toddled away, where we were soon joined by Courtney (who had come to be our sober ride home), and I have no clue where Shmenn was but then again this entire night is imaginary to me.

At some point I think me and Shmelly made out, which became a common occurrence in our soon-to-be friendship (spoiler alert), though usually we did so for free drinks at gay bars or to confuse nosy onlookers. We visited a hookah lounge, lost Shmenn’s wallet at said hookah lounge, went to Jimmy Johns (because it’s open freaky late), and then ended our night at this bar called Zenith.

Zenith is … well I don’t know how it is because I’ve never been inside. As we were showing our IDs and Shmelly and Courtney walked on in the bouncer held me up.

“No fucking way is he going in there.” He said to my friends. And then I lost my mind.
“IT’S BECAUSE I’M GAY ISN’T IT?!” (Reminder: I’m still a very much butch lesbian looking individual at this point and also still teetering between my lesbian and trans identities). The bouncer seemed baffled and glanced from me to Shmelly and back to me. Shmelly looked like someone I’d be put in a police lineup with, but with an even gayer buzzed haircut.

“I don’t think that’s it.” Shmelly laughed, and Courtney came back outside of the bar to help Shmenn move me along as I continued to yell about discrimination at the Zenith Bar. At some point I decided that walking was too hard and I laid down on the pavement, right next to a cop car.

Courtney was having none of my shit and pulled a mom, and by that I mean she started counting down from 3 and my ass was upright before she got to 1 because nobody ever wants to find out what happens at the end of one of those countdowns. When we reached the car Courtney asked me for the keys (WHY WAS I IN CHARGE OF THE KEYS YOU ASK?? WHAT AN EXCELLENT QUESTION). I reached into my front pocked and pulled out a cue ball.

*Is that a pool ball in your pocket or do you just have a really round engorged penis?*

“What the fuck is that and where are the keys?” Courtney was pissed.
“That’s not mine.” I said confidently, as if someone had framed me, or as if I was any teenager ever found with weed that was definitely theirs.

Courtney and Shmenn left me on the sidewalk with Shmelly as they retraced our steps in search of the keys. They eventually found them (inside Jimmy Johns) and we were headed home. After we dropped Shmelly off (which was at the apartment building next to ours) I do have a vague recollection of one-eyed texting him, “I understand if you never wanna hang out with us again. What a shit show.”

*Next time on Nobody Scissors, turns our Shmelly did want to hang out again.*

Come Out, Come Out, Wherever You Are

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It was Valentine’s Day and Shmenn had gone back to the midwest to visit her parents. I know, I know, on the most romantic day of the year? I’m just kidding, we all know the most romantic day of the year is Thanksgiving — nothing quite like the alluring aroma of pumpkin spice and a full belly to get you going.

Shmenn decided that with love in the air and all that jazz it was time to come out to her parents… as a lesbian. Do you remember how a few posts back I had officially come out to her as transgender? Well, get ready for me to be shoved right back into that closet. Shmenn was ready to be an out and proud gay and I was mostly a doormat that didn’t want her to leave me so I hoped I could be okay with this. *spoiler alert, I wouldn’t be*

*Theme music and opening credits play*

I got to hear about the coming out via text message mostly, because Shmenn’s parents wouldn’t leave her alone long enough to call me because according to them I was the devil reincarnate. They were Catholic, and the pick and choosy kind Catholics, A.K.A. the worst kind, A.K.A. most Catholics. They told Shmenn how they had known all along that I was a terrible person, influence, human, etc. That my tattoos were atrocious, my short hair was bad…

…and that I was clearly not raised right. The only bright side to this coming out was that Shmenn’s dog threw up on her dad right in the middle of the drama, I couldn’t help but laugh when she relayed that detail.

Shmenn was headed back to Texas the next day and she was a mess. Her parents had told her that they had no interest in talking about me ever, and really had no interest in talking to her until she decided that her and I were no longer talking, or dating, or especially fucking (I don’t think they actually said that, but we all know that’s what they meant).

This was probably the beginning of the end of me and Shmenn, even if I didn’t want to admit it. I had dealt with terrible parents before… I mean Shmashley 1’s parents pretended I didn’t exist like Donald Trump pretends that Global Warming doesn’t exist and I survived that shit for 2 years. I never had to see these people, I couldn’t care less — but Shmenn cared deep down and it was going to eat at her slowly, like the slow and painful process that was that dude chewing his arm off in that one movie starring Shmames Shmanco (and presumably the real life one-armed dude who inspired that story). Yum, anyone else craving a turkey leg?

Smenn’s dad, let’s call him, Shmuy Shmieri, in case you forgot, he looks just like a certain Food Network Star — decided that he was going to be my new biggest fan and stalked all my social media. Welcome to the club, Shmuy, I’ve got quite a couple fan girls and boys you’ll have to share that internet stalker-dom with. (JK, I wouldn’t be propelled to D-List internet fame for about another year or so). He would send Shmenn emails every morning containing screenshots of my posts about her and what a nasty woman that made her (one of them read “I’m so happy to come home to my gf today” Nasty, N-A-S-T-Y, isn’t there a black eyed peas song about that?) Anyway, something tells me that he might be Donald Trump’s speech writer this year. Jeez, that’s my third Trump reference in this post, wonder why…oh yeah, GO VOTE AMERICA! DO YOUR CIVIC DUTY AND SAVE US FROM THAT ORANGE MONSTER.

*Hillary Clinton approved this message and this blog, we’re besties, I promise*

Anyways, back to our regularly scheduled programming — Shmenn’s dad got real good at the internets and stalking my shit, but no way was I going to censor myself to make him feel comfortable or sacrifice my growing follower count by making my instagram private. In all seriousness though, I do not believe in changing your own behavior to make someone more comfortable when they go looking for something to make themselves uncomfortable. Shmenn would get messages from ol’ Daddy-O talking about how we were throwing our heathenism in his face and all I could do was scoff and tell him to hold the phone. It’s not shoving anything in anyone’s face when they had to head to that little search bar on whatever social media they fancied and typed my name in. That’s their issue. That’s actually harassment. If he didn’t want to see me in real life, he wouldn’t go to my house and peek in my windows. And, better yet, if I didn’t want him seeing my shit in real life I could put a restraining order on him or block his phone number and rely on the long arm of the law to keep his creepy goldilocks lookin’ self away from me. (This same thing goes for anyone who I’ve ever blocked online — if you don’t want to see me, the internet makes it real easy, stop LOOKING).

Between the screenshots and the bible verses, things got to the point where we just stopped talking about Shmenn’s family and I actually encouraged her to keep those annoying little red notification bubbles on her email. Those emails don’t need read now, Shmenn, not now, not ever.

*Next week on Nobody Scissors, you might be reading my last blog entry ever if The Donald gets elected and all Queer people are removed of their rights to queer blogging and free expression*

 

Hell Hath No Fury

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I am about to tell you one of my favorite stories from when I was dating Shmenn. I tell this story ALL THE TIME.

Shmenn’s middle name should have been Petty, I mean she makes Tom Petty look like Tom Not-So-Petty if you know what I mean. And honestly it was very hilarious, except when it was directed at me of course.

One time Shmenn, me, Courtney, and her girlfriend at the time decided to hit up a Spurs game, because we love basketball and the girlfriends loved any reason to scream at grown men while eating cotton candy.

After the game was over is when this story really begins… We were in the parking lot, in that usual shitshow that is everyone trying to leave an arena at one time and is a literal look into what Hell must be like.

*Theme music and opening credits play*

It comes to be our turn to merge into the exit line from the parking lot and the joker who knows it’s our turn to come over is refusing to make eye contact and edging his Mercedes SUV closer and closer to the car in front of him, blocking us out. This is when Shmenn and Courtney, the two pettiest bitches I know, without even speaking must have telepathically communicated what was going to come next. Courtney hopped out of the passenger seat and stood right in front of this fucker’s car, arms crossed, the smuggest (most smug? English nerds, weigh in!) grin on her face.

Now I know what you’re thinking — Texas is an open carry state, she could have gotten her ass shot. Additionally she was standing in front of a CAR for god’s sake, and this person could be a homicidal maniac, he didn’t even understand the basic human practice of merging traffic lanes so clearly he was a sociopath. But, you know, we were young and broke so getting hit by a car seemed like a reasonably okay path to put one’s life on.

This guy lost his mind, but I guess not enough to run Courtney over, so we edged our car in front of him as he laid on his horn, flipped us off, and screamed a plethora of obscenities our way. Now, keep in mind this was a middle-aged man, with his wife in the passenger seat, who if he had just let us merge would have been well on his way. Courtney made sure to let the guy know what a stand-up guy he was being by laughing and giving him a retaliatory middle finger (or two). This was when the wife started to get into the mix and rolled down her window to start yelling at Courtney, so she turned on her and yelled something along the lines of “What a winner you’ve got there! But it looks like you two are made for each other!” Before blowing a kiss and running back to the car. Now, this was all very ill-conceived from a planning standpoint because this guy really could have hurt any of us or rammed our car or worse, but we were working with the advantage of driving a WAY shittier car than he was. That’s the key to starting parking lot/road rage fights, always (and I mean ALWAYS) have the shittier vehicle. You want them to know that you wouldn’t give a motherfuck if your car became a casualty in this situation, your car isn’t worth caring about — your car sounds like a lawnmower. BRING IT.

Courtney made her way safely back onto our riding lawnmower, but Shmenn wasn’t done yet. Once we were in line in front of this douchehole, Shmenn put the car in park, rolled down the driver’s side window and waved in EVERY SINGLE CAR in the merge lane. Hundreds of cars, and we were just laughing our asses off. We had nowhere to be, and this guy needed to learn his lesson in basic human decency. He was laying on his horn and throwing even more middle fingers in the air, because apparently he didn’t understand that being a jackass was what had gotten him into this situation in the first place; you catch more flies with honey than vinegar after all.

People were a little confused by our actions, several rolled down their windows asking why we were letting everyone go in front of us.

Shmenn smiled as she waved them on, “This guy behind us is an asshole, so he’s learning a lesson.” At the end of all of the drama and after letting the entire rest of the parking lot out of the crowd before us, we left the scene with a hilarious story about good triumphing over evil (or petty triumphing over douche-baggery) and with at least two new enemies.

*Next Time on Nobody Scissors Shmenn finally comes out to her parents*

 

Party Foul

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I returned home to what I thought would be my everyday, normal, relationship. I mean as normal as any relationship could be, but when I left things were okay, and when I got back they just… weren’t. Have you ever just had a terrible feeling about something and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it? Well that’s how I felt when I got back and Shmenn really wasn’t helping things.

I knew she had hung out with one of my teammates while I was gone, but soon I noticed her texting her all the time, coming home late, and just all around being sketchy. She claimed nothing had happened between them while I was South of the Border, but I knew better, and  my suspicions were confirmed at the next rugby party we went to.

*Theme music and opening credits play*

There was a party going on at Shmellen’s house and it was hopping as per ush (uje?). Every gay worth knowing was there at their 3 bedroom apartment and all seemed fun until I noticed Shmenn hanging around the teammate I had a bad feeling about, let’s call her, Shmanet. I was playing beer pong with Courtney and my best friend, probably getting my ass kicked because Courtney always beats me at beer pong, but mostly my eyes and ears were trained on Shmenn, touching Shmanet’s arm, leaning on her shoulder, making all sorts of eyes at her. I could feel my temper boiling over but thought maybe I was just being crazy.

Shortly thereafter Shmenn came over and told me she was leaving because she didn’t feel well, mostly I think she could tell that I was uncomfortable. I told her I would get a ride home and I would see her later. Not ten minutes later I received a text from her:

Can you come outside? 

Why did everything have to be so dramatic with girls? I just wanted to have a fun night and to not feel weird about my girlfriend being into someone else, and now I was leaving the party at the beckoning of an ominous text. She was sitting on the stairs of the neighboring apartment building waiting for me, I could tell something was up.

“Look, I have to tell you something.” She started off, and I stood across from her, arms folded sipping my trashcan punch from a red solo cup.

“Go on…”

“When you were in Mexico something did happen, you’ve been right to feel so weird.” She was very calm, but also her voice was shaking. Remember when I mentioned last time that Shmenn had an adult sleepover while I was gone? Yeah, shit’s about to hit the fan.

“Did you sleep with her?” I asked.

“Well, yes and no.” She said, and her coyness didn’t help ease my concern which I guess she read on my face. “We didn’t fuck, but we did kiss, and she slept over.”

Before the words had left her mouth I had thrown my drink and was running up the three flights of stairs back to the party. I flew through the door like a bat out of hell and saw Shmanet on the back porch smoking. I don’t even know what I yelled at her besides that if she ever touched my girlfriend again I would kick her ass (humorous being that this girl was quite a bit bigger than me) before I felt arms around me pulling me away from the balcony. Shmenn was crying at the front door, Shmellen and another teammate had wrangled me into the nearest bedroom and were trying to calm me down. I heard someone tell Shmanet that she should leave, I didn’t hear her protest but I did hear the faint sound of laughter.

This should have been the end of me and Shmennifer. Not because this was unforgivable, not by any means, but because it was basically only downhill from here and the things to come would be much more detrimental to both of us emotionally. Of course we couldn’t possibly know that, and we were in love, so we continued on — also we were dumb. As most 21-year-olds are.

Shmenn was apologetic and remorseful, I was peeved beyond belief that I had been cheated on but also because I had been made to feel crazy for thinking something had happened — one of the worst things you can do to a person is invalidate their feelings and make them feel crazy for something they’re actually right about. It really just fucks with their head. Also to this day Shmenn is the only person I have been 100% faithful to in a relationship (I know, I’m the worst) despite this particular mishap. The moral of this story is: it doesn’t matter how good you are, sometimes people will find a way to be shitty even if you haven’t given them a reason to. Also, always trust your gut. Also also, never waste alcohol. What was I thinking throwing down that punch?? Party foul, Chris.

*Next week on Nobody Scissors, I come to terms with a few things*

Yes We Can?

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Shmennifer was moving to Texas. I know, I thought it was a little quick too, but who was I to complain about her being right down the street instead of only accessible through a computer screen? Besides, what were you expecting? The U-haul lesbian trope is one of the truest cliches known to man.

She hopped in her SUV and drove down to the Lone Star State with her new teacup chihuahua puppy and whatever fit in her trunk and backseat. This was a thing I would come to learn about Shmenn, moving meant nothing to her. The girl had lived in over a dozen places and she was only 20 years old. If this is a red flag to you readers at home then you’re right, but I was young and dumb and thought her spontaneity was attractive.

The question was, however, what was Shmenn going to do when she settled down in Texas? Go back to school? Well, she wanted to, but her credits didn’t transfer from her preforming arts college and she didn’t want to start all over. Work retail? She tried about two weeks of that at the outlets until she came home crying one day because apparently the store she worked at was full of Regina Georges who peaked in high school and they made fun of Shmenn for being larger than a size 6. So she was left perusing Craigslist ads, and I don’t even remember how she lucked into finding her path in Apartment work but soon she was a leasing agent at a very shady apartment complex right off campus.

*Theme music and opening credits play*

This place was a dump. But the property manager there was a lesbian, whom I had never met. Shmenn was at least amongst our people in this sketchy apartment building.

I will admit that I got weird over the idea of Shmenn staying late with this new gay girl, that she was ALWAYS talking about. It also didn’t help that with a name like Shmavery my brain had cooked up this studmuffin (who says that?) image of what she must look like. I know, I know, I stereotyped the andro name to mean she was some hot boyish thing, and it would come to light that she was really the most femme girl I had ever met and the furthest thing from Shmennifer’s type imaginable.

Shmavery had a girlfriend… boyfriend… partner… who had a lot in common with me gender wise (AKA we both thought gender was bullshit and had been dealt a terrible hand and even more terrible feminine birth names). They invited me and Shmenn over for dinner one night (at the aforementioned shithole apartments) and as me and let’s call him, Shmavis, sat on the porch sipping on beers he informed me that he preferred he/him pronouns and he hoped to transition, and that Shmenn had told him that I felt similarly.

I had never met another person who felt like me. I had only recently discovered the world of YouTube transition videos and had spent nights upon nights doing research about the topic, obsessing over the journeys of other gender non-conforming individuals, and daydreaming about going down that path myself. It explained so much about how I felt about myself. All that aside, I hadn’t broached the topic much with Shmenn, so I was surprised she was telling this guy I had never met that him and I had common “interests.”

Once I got past the feeling of being outed, Shmavis and I hit it off. He was the big brother I never had, and we would become inseparable. Weeks later he told me that Shmenn had made me out to be a total douche-hole, and that him and Shmavery hadn’t wanted to invite me over to dinner at all. I wasn’t sure why Shmenn spoke about me that way to strangers, especially one of whom was her boss, but I was pretty hurt.

I brought it up to her, just vaguely, asking why she had told Shmavis that I was controlling and mean. She insisted she had never said anything like that, so I let it go.

And then the voting incident came up.

Have you ever been lied to about something so minuscule, so bizarre that your brain kind of turns off for a second and is like “there’s no way this person is so weird that they’d make that shit up, right?” Like only pathological liars would lie about their dog’s name, what they’re allergic to, or having sex with Vin Diesel.

It was November and it was the Romney/Obama election, you remember the one I’m talking about. You know…. old white dude running against the first potential black presidential candidate?  If you don’t remember what I’m talking about you’re too young to be reading this blog.

Well, Shmenn was a Republican (I know, strike two! What’s strike one you ask? That whole strict Catholicism thing is really a no-go for me. I mean, yikes), and my entire friend group and I (being the young liberal queer artists that we were) were all progressive. Obvi we were pro-Obama (Probama?) and Shmenn couldn’t stand to be around when we watched the debates or had any sort of political discussion.

Election day rolls around and I know she’s going to vote for Romney, and you know what? Who cares! We can disagree and have differing views, that’s fine. But election night we are having dinner and the news is on, keeping up with the polls.

“Did they let you off work to vote?” I asked, genuninely curious.
“Oh yeah, me and a few of the other girls from the office went during lunch.”
“Oh cool! Was there only one precinct? I wasn’t sure, where did you have to go vote?”
“The elementary school, the line was so long!” She seemed believably exasperated.
“Eh, it didn’t take too long when I went. I wish I had read up on some of the smaller issues I had to vote on though, and I have no idea if I voted for the right candidates on most of that stuff.”
“Me neither! I just closed my eyes and circled random names.” She laughed. Oh boy.
“Shmenn… you know that voting is electronic right? Like you can’t just close your eyes and circle things…”
Silence.
“…Like with a pencil?” I asked.
“Well, yeah, just in case I messed up. I could erase my choice and go back!” Shmenn laughed casually.
“Um… Are you lying about voting? Because, one: I don’t care who you voted for or even if you voted… but two, that’s a fucking bizarre thing to lie about and if you’re gonna be dishonest about something like that then where do you draw the line?” I was a little heated at this point — my “crazy meter” was going off the charts and I was a little scared. Both for myself and for the country if Romney won the election. Could Obama become president? Could me and Shmenn make it through this? Yes we can…maybe.

*Next week on Nobody Scissors, find out the fate of our country and I hop the border*

The Hills Only Have Eyes For You

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Shmennifer and I were happily in love, just 1000 miles away from one another. We spent many a night on skype, sent care packages, wrote letters, and besides that surprise visit didn’t get to see each other all summer long…

Until one day when I got my work schedule (I was working at a retail store at the time) and saw that I had a week off and so I packed a bag, hopped in my jeep, and decided to drive the 12 hours to surprise Shmennifer.

I know — I hate surprises, why did I do this? I mean I know why I did it, what a romantic gesture. Showing up on her doorstep with flowers? That would totally win me points for forever probably.

*Theme music and opening credits play*

It is a little bit reckless to drive by yourself through several states (especially the backwoods of said states when they’re in the south and you’re a very queer looking boyish lesbian), and my parents didn’t even know I had gone. Courtney was the only person who knew where I was, and we were all praying that I could find my way without issue because how could I possibly explain it to anyone if my car decided to break down in Arkansas somewhere?

Somehow I made the drive without incident, Shmennifer even called me while I was driving and I made up some bullshit excuse about doing laundry and needing to hang up — she had no idea whatsoever that I was coming, but she did inform me that her parents were going out of town in the next few days which was perfect seeing as they didn’t know we were dating.

I got to her small town a little after midnight, but my google maps… I’m sorry *ahem* shmoogle shmaps, could not locate her house. I was driving around Shmenn’s neighborhood for nearly an hour before I gave up and called her. She groggily answered the phone.

“What does your house look like?” I asked like a crazy person.
“Huh..?” She replied.
“Your house. What does it look like, or better yet how do I find it from the front of your neighborhood because I’m here and I’ve been driving around forever and can’t find it!” I was beyond frustrated. My romantic gesture was being thwarted right before my eyes.

She gave me directions and came outside and was dumbstruck. “What are you doing here??”
“Well, you see, I was in the neighborhood…”

Now, I hate surprises but I’m all for romantic gestures, and let me tell you, not much compares to the sex that follows an 11 hour drive to surprise a girl you haven’t seen in months. She was pretty thrilled with me, and I was pretty thrilled to sleep with her in my arms for a few days.

Her parents were out of town by the time I got there so we had the whole house to ourselves. We had sex on every surface of that place, I swear to God — well except for her parents’ bed. I’ve never and will never have sex in any parents’ bed, that’s just really gross to me — I was also afraid her big bad Catholic parents would come home and smell the gay on their sheets even after a run through the wash so I wasn’t gonna risk it.

My stay in small-town nowhere USA was pretty uneventful, but apparently not so terrible that I vowed to never go back.

A few weeks later Shmennifer was visiting me again, and again without telling her parents, and we missed her flight back. I literally dropped her off 10 minutes after the flight stopped boarding, it was terrible timing, and Shmenn was all tears. She couldn’t afford to buy another ticket and her parents thought she was out of town with her best friend and would be returning that night.

“I’ll drive you, let’s go.” I said and we literally hauled ass for 11 hours to her parent’s house.

I don’t know if that should win me a “partner of the year” award… okay it totally should have won me partner of the year — it’s not every day that someone drops everything and drives you multiple states home to avoid the wrath of overbearing parents.

During this drive Shmenn and I decided to have “the talk.” And by “the talk” I don’t mean the birds and the bees, I mean the, “how many people have you slept with” talk.

I had slept with quite a few more people than her, but definitely not like an unreasonable amount, though Shmenn did make me feel a little slutty when I revealed my number. And then she wanted names… she was not going to be happy to find out that quite a few of the people I’d slept with were teammates and/or good friends of mine… especially Smashley 2 who she had taken an immediate disliking to when she met her. Wonder why.

We were silent through all of Arkansas as she mulled over my list. She could have simply waited a few years and just gone back and read this blog if she wanted gory details, patience being a virtue and all.

We made it to her parents’ house late that night, Shmenn snuck me in the back door to her bedroom which was downstairs and we decided to keep my presence there a secret until morning. This would have been easy except that she left the back door open as she went to take her makeup off and I sat in a chair barefoot, scrolling through instagram until I felt something slither across my foot. I kid you fucking not that a 4-foot-long black snake slid across my foot and under her bed.

“SHMESUS FUCKING CHRIST!” I screamed and jumped from the chair. Shmenn came running out and I pointed under her bed screaming about the snake. She stuffed me into her closet (I realize the irony here) as she heard her dad come thundering down the stairs to see what the noise was all about.

When he saw the snake he ran from the room and returned with a snow shovel which he then used to corral the snake and sweep it out the back door. Had I not been hiding this would have been pretty hilarious — her dad is like a mix of Guy Fieri and The Most Interesting Man in the World; handsome but big and goofy with a shock of white hair. He’s like a cartoon in that he owns only hawaiian shirts, and seeing him wielding a snow shovel as Shmenn hid behind him was a sight, I’ll tell you.

Things calmed down and her dad went back up to bed, I made my way out of the closet and back to her bed, now mortified of this god forsaken state we were in. I didn’t sleep a wink that night, terrified her dad would come back in and find me in bed with his daughter. As fun as her dad was, he was also a very judgey Catholic dude with strong opinions about the gays and this wasn’t exactly how I’d hoped to meet him.

The next morning Shmenn made some unbelievable excuse about how I was in town for a family reunion (I’ve never been to a family reunion, let alone in small town nowheresville) and asked if I could stay a few days before “leaving to starbucks to pick me up.” So we snuck me out the back to her car, ran to get coffee and came back to meet the fam. They were delighted to have me, as most parents are… until they find out I’m fucking their daughter.

I got along with her parents swimmingly (who says that?) aside from a few hiccups when they asked me my political views and if I had a boyfriend (y’all, I looked like Justin Bieber, there’s no way they thought I was straight, I’m just saying).

I left after about 48 hours, trying not to overstay my welcome, but really dreading my drive back to Texas all alone. Shmenn did end up Skyping me almost the entire way back, occasionally flashing me her DD’s when I seemed to be nodding off to sleep.

I made it home safe and sound, and things were pretty quiet for the rest of the summer. But I will never forget those collective 44 hours spent driving through the “Hills Have Eyes” countryside of the Bible Belt. Nothing cements a relationship more than the fear of backwoods hillbillies and Catholic fathers.

*Next week on nobody scissors: How soon is too soon to rent a U-haul?*

Softie Shmoftie

michelinman

I opened the facebook message from a “friend” from high school, someone I hadn’t talked to in over 5 years. I say “friend” because we had a few classes together, were teammates on the softball team, but we were never close, and when she had moved away Sophomore year we didn’t stay in touch besides remaining FB friends.

This girl, let’s call her, Shmennifer, sent me this:

Hi, so I know this is random and you’re probably going to read this and thing “Wow, Shmenn is crazy” but I just have to say something… You’re hot. Like so fucking hot. And that’s not eloquent or groundbreaking, but it’s out there. So if you ever want to like, talk, or whatever, I’m interested.

*Theme music and opening credits play*

I was beyond shocked. Shmennifer was not my usual type physically — she was pretty damn girly (most of my ladies thus far had been fairly low-maintenance, toward the middle of the of the road between masc and femme), and curvy. I would learn that I have a really big attraction to curvy women, which for some reason seems like a taboo when it shouldn’t be. Personality wise though she was pretty spot on for what I look for — creative (she was a singer and actress), independent, older than me (only by 6 months… but it still counts!) and left handed (have I mentioned how much I like that?). Also I was shocked because I didn’t know that this girl was gay… well okay, she had ironically dated Shmary 1 back in high school, but I thought that was just some teenage softball sleepover shit, not like permanent lifestyle shit.

My response to Shmennifer was as follows:

I didn’t realize you were still gay… 

Boy do I have a way with the ladies. She sent me back an “LOL” accompanied by her phone number. I may not be smooth but this face really does take me places sometimes, thanks mom and dad!

We began texting immediately, constantly, relentlessly. She lived in the midwest at the time, she had to come back from college because she got diagnosed with Epilepsy during her second year at a dramatic arts school and her parents had asked her to take a year off. She was a little stir crazy in their house, being that she had fled their control at 18 to the city that never sleeps, to pursue an acting career. She was driven and talented beyond belief — to this day I know her name is meant to be up in lights somewhere someday.

The first time we skyped we just looked at each other, not saying anything for over an hour. It was bizarre… not love at first skype, but it was something, alright.

My friends back in college all made fun of me for getting into something long distance again. I was always looking at my phone, tired from all nighters spent on the phone, and I could tell you what every bit of Shmennifer’s body looked like even though I had never touched her. I learned how weird it was to miss someone you had never “met.” I also learned how weird it was to feel as if you had never met someone that you had technically met before.

Soon she planned a surprise visit to me, and let me tell you… I hate surprises. I was drunk when she showed up with Courtney at our apartment. There’s a video somewhere of me just saying “what the fuck?” over and over and sitting on the ground as Shmennifer made her way over to me saying, “I hope that’s a good what the fuck, and not a mad what the fuck.” I just laughed and wrapped my arms around her. I also wondered how the hell she had gotten from midwest bumfuck nowhere to my college apartment. I also wondered how long Courtney and her had been scheming — usually I was 100% on Courtney’s wavelength, so this sort of thing didn’t happen very often. I know that I said that I hate surprises, but I was pretty okay with seeing Shmennifer in person this night. Having a girlfriend solely via Skype was fairly safe and all, but it wasn’t necessarily the most physically rewarding scenario for everyone involved.

The first time we had sex I remember having an anxiety attack as we lay in bed afterwards, Shmennifer looking at me with worried green eyes, “Are you going to break up with me?” I laughed, she didn’t seem reassured. I raised myself up on one elbow and choked out the most feeble “I love you” ever uttered in the history of the world as I realized that I was completely head over heels for this girl. When did I become such a softie??

 

*Next week on Nobody Scissors, I get to meet the parents, sort of…*

You is One Lucky Bastard

thehelp

Shmemistry Teacher was definitely interested, y’all. She cleared up any doubts I had one night when I was out with some friends. It was midnight, and we were at the dollar theatre in our college town watching a movie when I received a very drunk, nearly incoherent, but super flirty text message from her. I don’t remember the details of what that message said but I do remember whisper-yelling down the row of seats at my friends, “Shmemistry Teacher just drunk texted me!” This was neither the time nor the place to share this hot gossip, but we aren’t always in charge of when we receive drunk texts from our teachers.

She ended up asking me to come meet her outside of a bar later that night… outside of the bar because I was still a baby and couldn’t get INSIDE the bar. Hot, I know. She asked me to bring her a snack (Ritz peanut butter cracker sandwiches), which I went to 3 gas stations before finding because I’m that much of a kiss ass. When I walked up she was on the patio with her friends, but she came out to meet me on the other side of the fence outside the bar. The fence provided us with a little bit of privacy, but I was pretty sure that her friends were spying on this romantic Ritz cracker rendezvous the whole time.

*Theme music and opening credits play*

She was all smiles when I showed up, leaning into my neck, touching my arms, and she smelled like tequila. I’m not the type to take advantage of a situation like that, but before I knew it she had stood on her tiptoes to kiss me lightly on the lips. I pulled back and raised my eyebrows at her, “I thought…”

“Oh shut up.” She said before leaning back in. That’s all the convincing I needed before grabbing her by the hips and pushing her against the fence and making out with her like the horny not-really-teenager that I was. After a quick but hot make out sesh she thanked me for the peanut butter crackers and made her way back to her friends. I left feeling on top of the world, not knowing that my night out at the dollar theatre watching The Help was going to end this way. Chris, You is kind. You is smart. You is important. You is one lucky bastard.

When I told Courtney (and then Shmermione the next week in class) they were both completely astounded… I mean, not even I knew I had this much game. Shmemistry Teacher played it totally cool in class, because this clearly wasn’t her first rodeo, but she would text me on and off during the week. She made sure to never explicitly talk about us doing anything inappropriate however, for fear of what could happen if someone got ahold of that paper trail of our misbehavior. Pics or it didn’t happen, amiright?

I ended up inviting Shmemistry Teacher to Shmellen’s birthday party at our house, a few weeks later. Shmellen is a total nerd so we decided to throw a nerd/science themed party and I thought this would be right up Shmemistry Teacher’s alley. When I invited her she immediately told me she couldn’t be seen at a party with a bunch of undergrads, but come the night of the party she was texting me asking for the address. This girl was 125% mixed signals and I was 125% into it.

When she showed up she asked to speak with me outside. I was rocking a short-sleeve button up, bow tie, and glasses plus tousled hair, and I had already had a few drinks when I sat out on our balcony with her. Tonight was going to be a good night, I could feel it.

“Look, this is fun and all, but I can’t keep kissing you. It’s not allowed, and no offense but this isn’t worth losing my job over.” …uh, so maybe tonight wasn’t going to be a good night.

I didn’t take offense to this one bit but I also wasn’t going to make her leave the party, so I told her I understood and made my way back into the apartment, found the birthday girl and proceeded to do some jell-o shots. I didn’t waste any time trying to assure her that I wasn’t hurt, because I was young, drunk, and honestly this romantic storyline had already exceeded my expectations. I went off to do shots of plastic-bottle-vodka like the mature adult I was when I saw that Shmemistry Teacher had followed me into the crowded party. I was glad that she stayed because this party was made for her (hello, actual science nerd teacher person in a science nerd themed party??) and because it gave me the opportunity to show her just how unfazed I was by her ending things with me. If there’s something I’m good at it’s looking hot while flirting with people in front of someone who has turned me down. In later years I would perfect this skill into a real art form.

Not twenty minutes into my cool act, drinking with girls, dancing, and generally just giving Shmemistry Teacher the cold shoulder she pulled me by my hand into my bedroom.

“Wow there sure are a lot of women on your walls.” She said as we closed the door, gesturing to the posters of mostly athletes but also celebrities who I crushed on. I shrugged and sat down on my bed, not really sure why my room decor was significant. “Don’t you think it’s a little bit objectifying to just hang women up like decoration?” The tone of her voice was getting higher and I could tell she was upset.

“In all honesty, half those women are people I idolize. That’s Becky Hammon, she holds the world record for most free throws in a minute…of any man or woman! That’s Abby Wambach, arguably the best female soccer player ever. That’s Kristen Stewart… okay, yeah, she’s just up there cause she’s a total babe.” I was drunk and a little offended that I was in trouble for thinking these women were hot, I wasn’t the first person to hang posters on their wall. I was 19, what decorations was I supposed to hang up? I wasn’t into dudes so of course there were female celebrities instead of Justin Bieber or Taylor Lautner or whoever was cool back in 2012. Why couldn’t we be talking about the photographs I had hung up around my window or the art I had made hanging above my head board. Hell, we could even be talking about my extensive shoe collection, anything but this.

“I’ve just heard you talk about how gross the guys in your class are and here you are, just like them.” She said in quite a judgey tone.

“Okay so this is where I cut you off. You may be my teacher, but you don’t know a damn thing about me, and you’re making a lot of assumptions based on shallow observations of what, my college bedroom?” On that note I left the bedroom, I wasn’t there to be lectured, I had done nothing wrong to Shmemistry Teacher in this situation and she was clearly projecting her feelings of insecurity or fear or whatever onto me however she could. Plus, the guys in my Shmemistry class were gross. They were frat dudes who wore visors for God’s sake.

I made it to the kitchen before I felt her grabbing my hand again. “I’m leaving, walk me to my car?” This woman was all over the place, she thought I was a pig but also the gentleman you want to walk you to your car? Maybe 125% was too low of a number for the level of mixed signals this girl sent.

When we got to her small black Mazda she grabbed me and started kissing me and then she was putting my hand down her pants. Yeah, you heard me right, 10 minutes ago she was lecturing me about objectifying women and 30 minutes before that she was telling me how we couldn’t kiss anymore — but there we were. She opened the back door of her car and pulled me inside on top of her and I was thankful (for once) that I was a pretty small person because this was not a roomy vehicle. I was confused but also excited, this was what I had been hoping for the whole time, and it was definitely hot, despite her weird vibes toward me all night.

She informed me that she wouldn’t get off unless oral was involved so, like the champ I am, I somehow got my head between her legs in that tiny sedan. Having sex in small cars was how I started out hooking up with the ladies and those lessons I learned as a teenager would serve me well on this night and many nights to come. I got her off several times before she pulled my face back up to hers and then said in true mixed-signal fashion, “Oh no don’t kiss me.” AKA you smell like my vagina which you just ate out for twenty minutes and gave me a handful of orgasms, but that’s gross. And then, as if that wasn’t the cherry on top of this convoluted sundae, she told me she couldn’t reciprocate because she “wasn’t gay.”

You think maybe she could have mentioned that before… like, “oh hey heads up I’m a total pillow princess.” One way sex is totally a thing, like, yes you can have sex and only one person participate but it helps when there’s a mutual understanding before going into the act, and the way she said it was just so… rude. I disentangled myself from her petite frame and exited her car, closing her in the back seat like the southern gentleman I am.

She proceeded to text me the rest of the summer but I’m gonna say I dodged a bullet on that one because she was hot, but she really wasn’t all that fun, and I’m not about that judgey-not-kissing-after-oral-can’t-appreciate-a-woman’s-beauty-doesn’t-give-and-only-takes-sorta-relationship. No thank you.

*Next time on Nobody Scissors old habits die hard…*

Teacher’s Pet

chemistry

It was sophomore year still, second semester, and I had a smoking hot chemistry teacher who was young (but still 9 years older than me, SCORE), questionably gay, and let us call her by her first name in class. She was very petite, tan-skinned, dark haired, with gauged ears and a lip ring. For the sake of privacy, I will refer to her from now on as Shmemistry Teacher (in all honesty, in real life we always called her this as well because it was funny).

I sat at our lab table with Courtney and another lesbian friend of ours, let’s call her Shmermione, from the rugby team, who both thought I was ridiculous for constantly flirting with our teacher. But I was single and hooking up with a teacher is a total fantasy that everyone has, right?

*Theme music and opening credits play*

I decided the most fool-proof way to decide if she was gay was to wear the gayest shirt I owned at the time (an “I enjoy vagina” tee from Spencers), and see if I could get a rise out of her. Honestly I think the shirt was less to blame than this face *bats eyelashes* as I asked her to come over and help me with the lab we were working on.

Shmermione and Courtney rolled their eyes as I playfully touched our teacher’s hand, asked her to review my work, and winked as she leaned across me in my seat. While they both told me that I had a -0% chance of actually hooking up with Shmemistry teacher, they did place bets on how long they thought it would take for me to crash and burn. We had to find some way to make learning about compound solutions and molecules interesting after all.

“I love that tattoo.” She said, gesturing to a compass I have on my forearm. She went on to ask me about my other tattoos and I resisted the urge to pull my shirt up in the middle of our classroom to show her the quote on my ribs, but told her the song it was from and she told me she was going to go home and look it up.

“I’m in y’all.” I said to my friends, and we did our secret lesbian hand shake (spoiler alert, it’s a low five).

Before the day was even over I received an email from Shmemistry Teacher.

Hi Chris,

I know I could have waited until our next class but I wanted to tell you I listened to that song and I loved it, so I listened to the rest of his album and have to admit you have great taste. We should get together for coffee sometime and talk music some more.

xo Shmemistry Teacher 

“HOLY FUCK! SHMEMISTRY TEACHER ASKED ME TO COFFEE, THIS IS NOT REAL LIFE.” I told Courtney way too loudly in the middle of our painting class, and our teacher shot me a look. Sor-ry! Jeez. I was about to go on a maybe-date with our hot teacher, I was a little pumped, don’t be jealous shmainting teacher.

We planned to meet the next day in between two of her labs. We showed up and sat on the patio of a small coffee shop just off campus, she ordered a Matcha something or other and some pita bread and hummus, I ordered a latte and sat opposite her.

We discussed music, school, our pets, relationships (she wasn’t gay, bummmmmmmer), her affinity for snakes and my lack of affinity for body parts that looked like snakes, and so on. We talked until she realized she was late for her next class, but she asked me come by her office later that week if I wanted to talk more. I mean I’m totally not reading into anything here. I know I’m only a 19-year-old inexperienced baby lesbian but she was giving me some positive vibes. Plus when we discussed our favorite foods we both professed our love of tacos and everyone knows that being a food taco lover is a gateway to being a lady taco lover.

When I went to visit her office later that week after my typography class that was in an adjacent building she told me she had to run to her house which was in the town south of us and asked if I wanted to join her. THIS IS ABOUT THE TIME MY INSIDES WERE FREAKING OUT. DID SHE JUST INVITE ME OVER? IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DAY? COULD I REALLY SKIP CLASS? Okay, I skipped class. Thankfully I had a twin to take notes for me — shoutout to Courtney for being the best wingman EVER.

I rode with her and we listened to music, she made fun of me for not knowing some of the songs that came on, I promptly informed her that I was born in 1992 which made me an infant at the time of some of these songs’ release dates. It’s always a huge turn on to tell an older woman that you were born in the nineties, that’s a tip from me to you.

When we got to her house we walked her dog, she showed me some nature photography she had done, she grabbed a snack and then we left. That’s it. The L word had led me to believe that anytime a girl invites you over you are gonna rock paper scissor your way into said girl’s pants, but things didn’t quite work out that way this time. Damn that show for giving me false expectations.

When we were in the car on the way back to school, she turned to me and asked, “Why do lesbians always like straight girls?” I guess my attraction to her wasn’t as subtle as I had tried to make it.
“You know, I’m not sure, but then again I’m not sure why ‘straight’ girls always like me so much either.” I said with a smirk and she nodded in response. Well played self, way to turn that one around.

Though the trip we had made was uneventful, it resulted in her asking for my number, which felt like a step in a direction that might lead to a taco party. I was looking forward to where this less than appropriate student-teacher relationship was headed.

Mostly I was hoping to find out if we had any Shmexual Shmemistry, ya feel?

*Next time on nobody scissors, we definitely have a little shmemistry…*