But anyway.
I am blogging on the last night of SF pride because instead of going out like a lot of people in the city I am staying in since I have to wake up early to get to work at 6:15. A little annoying, particularly since there are two major leather bars outside my window where people are super stoked on being out, but whatever.
This weekend was pretty awesome. Rex, my friend/housemate from my first year at UCSC came up for the festivities and to host a party at the Mezzanine, which I attended on Friday. On Saturday I hung out at and around Dolores Park for the whole pre-dyke march thing and then watched it from my friend Conor's apartment on the corner on Guerrero
and 18th. It was pretty weird to watch a whole bunch of gay guys throwing Mardi Gras beads at queer women flashing their tits. I guess some sexualized gender interactions exist independent of sexuality. It was a pretty fun party though.Today I met up with some people for the parade/festival after recovering from a mini meltdown.
Bisexuality is complicated sometimes. Shows like Tila Tequila enforce the idea that bisexuality is more of crossroads than a state of being. Not that people can't change their mind, but I have known I am attracted to men and women since I was in elementary school and, in my opinion, queer is queer. Sometimes though I worry that people think I say I am bi for street cred, or that I am a "college bisexual" who makes out with girls purely to turn men on at parties.
I understand that, as a woman who lives with a man, I have a lot of straight privilege but I still struggle with a lot of internal craziness resulting from years of confusion and shame and everyone once in a while I need some validation.
Anyway, this is a rant. The point is that, when I called my friend Seth, he told me to get some pink and blue beads and meet him and his girlfriend at the civic center. We had a great time. I saw Margaret Cho and Peter Paige and got a badass shirt from the Sex Workers Outreach Project (SWOP). Then I went to visit my boyfriend who was working at Dog-Eared Books on Valencia and collapsed on the couch reading Michelle Tea in fishnets and a giant purple boa. No one seemed to mind.
Happy Pride!
