Sunday, 1 January 2017

Drift Apart

It’s happened!

I had someone drop out of the wedding because they think I’m a big gay sinner.

Invites were sent out 6 months ago, and it has taken this person until 10 weeks before the wedding to phone me and give me a lecture on religion.

Here are the highlights of that conversation:

  • We haven’t spoken in a long time.
  • Hope you’re well
  • Christmas is a busy time, isn’t it?
  • I want you to know Jesus
  • Your relationship isn’t real or valid
  • You should ask forgiveness from God
  • How you live is a universal sin
  • I’ll still come to the wedding if you want me to


I calmly told her that if she didn’t support my relationship and didn’t want to be happy for me in any shape or form, maybe her non-attendance would be best for everyone involved.

After I hung up, I felt oddly calm.

I felt very logical about the whole thing. She’d made it clear she wasn’t a supportive friend…or really any kind of friend, and so not having her at the wedding, or in my life from this point on, was a good thing.


And my life continued on.

The fiancée was shocked at how calm I was and how unaffected I seemed that a friend of 15 years had essentially cut all ties with me. But I felt oddly normal, and just went to work the next day.

But as time went on, I couldn’t help but shake a gloomy sinful cloud that was following me about. And it took me about a week to realise that actually… I was hurt.

What my “friend” said…had hurt me.

And it wasn’t as simple as brushing her comments aside like how everyone in the LGBT community learns  to do when strangers shout insults or stare or give filthy looks. This was someone who I’d known for a long time. A childhood friend. Someone who I’d come out to and she had been supportive. Someone who had met my fiancĂ©e, smiled, and been pleasant.

And apparently that’s not something you can sweep under the rug.

Who knew?

Now I’m not being closed-minded here. I fully get that some of my many Christian friends may not be thrilled with the idea of my being in love with another woman. But they put my happiness and our friendship above the rules of a religion that I no longer subscribe to. A religion that teaches love, acceptance, understanding and compassion.

So I thought about how to deal with the hurt. Send her poop in the post? (Yes, that is a thing) An honest letter saying how she’d hurt me? A glitterbomb?

Eventually I decided something positive should come from a shitty situation. 
 (Very mature. Go me.)

So I donated what it would have cost to have her at the wedding to a good cause.

To Stonewall.
…in her name.

And after making the donation (along with a long chat with an excellent friend who reminded me of my 18th birthday when my “friend” had sex on my lounge floor while the rest of us were trying to sleep in the same room and how “Christian” she was then.)

…I felt better.

Wednesday, 1 June 2016

Review Time - Lianna

We all know that lesbian movies have a bad rep.

And to be honest…they have a bad rep for a reason.

This movie is part of that reason.

I’ve no doubt that in the 80’s, when this film was released, Lianna was ground breaking, shocking and pushing the boundaries of film. But now, in the 21st century, it seems like an extremely dull documentary based on a woman’s 1980's domestic routine with a weird sapphic twist.

Lianna is experiencing a life based on housework, an unattentive husband and annoying children, so starts taking a night class to give her something to do and give her husband some space. And who does she meet there, but the lovely lesbian lecturer, Ruth. Then *boom*,the lesbianism suddenly kicks in.

Boobs and naked arse aplenty along with classic slow motion sex scenes where it’s all gentle caresses, inaudible whispers and faaaaar too much eye contact. 

Over all, weird and slightly uncomfortable sex that made me feel more awkward than aroused.

So they strike up an affair, and Lianna, being like every baby-gay ever, gets a little too enthusiastic and starts talking about leaving her husband, them moving in together and how wonderful their forever-after will be. The reaction from Ruth is about what you would expect. Leaving Lianna newly-out and on her own, trying to figure out what being gay means to her.

The gay scene in the film is weirdly wholesome. There’s no dark seediness, it’s all arm swaying, hugs and clapping your hands along to the music. Although a few classic one night stands make an appearance, it’s a world away from what the lesbian sub-culture is now.

An hour and 20 minutes in I was falling asleep, wondering what the hell else could happen in the last half hour of the movie.

The answer…not a lot.

Overall…it’s an okay movie. 30 years ago I’m sure I would be singing its gay praises and gushing over the joy of finally seeing lesbian sex on screen. But now…it’s sort of lost its potency. Now, I found it to be out of touch and not quite old enough to be seen as a nostalgic classic, leaving it to fall into a sort of timeless limbo for the next  10 years.

That’s not to say there aren’t positives about this film. For starters, I find it hilarious that the only male character is called Dick. But the other characters and storyline will resonate with most lesbians.

Every lesbian will remember being like Lianna, a newly-out little lesbian getting overly excited in her first gay relationship and going from zero to lets-move-in-together in 10 seconds flat. A lot of ladies will also sympathise with the other half of the relationship, Ruth, as the older more experienced lesbian who is slowly backing away towards the door from the whirlwind of over-enthusiastic baby gay.

The script is a little wooden, the storyline a little odd and abrupt, but still a story that a lot of gay people will relate to especially if they came out a little later in life.

So…not awful.

I would say it earned its 1.3 star rating on Netflix 

Tuesday, 17 May 2016

Better Together

I’ve done a brave and potentially stupid thing.

In my new city, there’s not really much of an LGBT scene. It’s almost like a big gay black hole. There’s nothing happening. It’s all been sucked into nothingness.

So….I started an LGBT group.

Yep, that’s right.


The anti-social nerdy scientist, who hates crowds and small talk….I have started a social group.

What was I thinking?

As the first meeting got closer, I started having more and more visions of 3 lonely people turning up, sitting round a table staring silently into beer and after 30 minutes running away, claiming they needed to feed the cat.

But actually…it went well. There was booze, chat, laugher.

I won’t lie. There were awkward events that we should have foreseen. Like 2 exes showing up and uncomfortably sitting next to each other. When the lesbian scene is as small as it is here, we were always bound to stumble on some pre-made drama.

Oh, but I can see many more drama filled events on the horizon with the weird mix of lesbians we have joining this group.

There is a Shane-like lady who had most of the female members trailing after her, there’s 2 exes who obviously still have a little spark for each other and one creepy lady who skulked in the corner and trying to make conversation with her was like trying to talk to a marshmallow.

But this is all part of my long-game plan to actually make some friends in this city. Because although some of my closest and oldest friends are straight, I have no sodding clue what to talk to them about. 

They talk about things that are entirely alien to me, like high heels, blow jobs and whatever bottle cap plumping is.

So here I am. Trying to unite the city’s LGBT community... All for the selfish reason of me being able to make friends with a minimal effort. Apparently whilst watching some drama unfold.

Monday, 2 May 2016

You Know I'm No Good

You may have noticed that things are looking a little different around here.

Just a tad.

Aside from the obvious site changes, Dykeasaurus has grown up into The Beaver Chronicles.

Exciting stuff!

So please bear with me over the next week or so until I have everything up and running.


Sunday, 10 April 2016

Fade Into You

The urge to merge, people.

It’s a real thing.
I’ve spent the last month packing up my life and dragging myself across the country for my new job, leaving R behind for 2 weeks while she finished serving her notice at work.

So we were apart for 2 weeks.

2 weeks? No big deal, right? I mean at one point we lived in different countries, and we managed that just fine.

Maybe it would even be nice. A little space to lounge around in my ugly, comfortable trackies that I keep promising to throw away, be a slob, fall asleep on the sofa watching my trashy TV shows with no one to judge me. It could be brilliant.

And absence makes the heart grow fonder, right?


Absence sucks.

It appears over the past 2 years of living together, R and myself have merged. And seeing each other every day and doing 90% of all our activities together has taken its toll on my sense of self.

Because on that first night when I was alone in a new house, in a new city, about to start a new job, with no TV and no internet and nothing to occupy myself, I was a complete mess.

Without R I felt utterly lost and like a completely different person, and an incomplete one at that.

…oh no.

We’d…We’d become one of those lesbian couples.

We’d merged.

And we’d become…the boring lesbians.
You know the ones. Where when on the rare occasion they go out, it’s always together, and they spend the evening talking about their cat and forcing you to look at pictures of him, regaling you with the tale of his recent bladder infection, before leaving at 9pm and scurrying off back to their domestic haven.

That was us.

So now, it’s a whole new start. A new city where people are unaware that we’re intrinsically lame and secretly dream on nights about heading home early to a cup of tea and an episode of Grey’s Anatomy.
We will actively combat this merging.

We will have our own separate sets of friends. Our own hobbies that don’t include the other. And will go out and stay out past 10pm.

Fight the merge, people!