Monday, May 28, 2007

The Universe Has a Message for ThePeach; ThePeach Ignores It

I’m not a lesbian. But I am in love with a woman. It is a pure, innocent love based on friendship and respect, and yet the universe keeps telling me that she should be my dykey she-bitch. Stop trying to corrupt our love, Universe! Leave me and TheHippie alone.

As you can see in my side-bar, TheHippie and I are soulmates and heterosexual life partners. Everybody has a soulmate. Mine just happens to be a surly red-headed tree-hugger. We became life partners a few years ago when we realized that we were co-dependent on each other for happiness. This began when the marching band that we were both in (again…don’t ask) took a lot of road trips and we always shared a bed because we just slept so well together. And we both tended to drink until 4 or 5am, so we wouldn’t disturb each other when we passed out drunk in bed, spooning gently, as the sun was coming up. Yes, my friends, love is a beautiful thing.

So why is the Universe trying to turn something so beautiful and pure into a soirreé with the meat curtains?

Messages from The Universe Indicating that TheHippie and I Should be Lovers:

1. The Lesbian Choir

TheHippie and I both enjoy singing. We were both involved in choirs in High School etc., and last year we were bored and decided to join a choir. We researched some UniversityTown choirs online and chose one that appealed to both of us the most: an all girls choir called “Shout, Sister!”. It was a choir devoted to “singing from the heart”, the “spirit of life” and “the unity of sisterhood”. We were drawn to the warmth of “Shout, Sister!” right away.

The group of women was very welcoming. The music was meant to be empowering and freeing. A lot of the women were hippies, as it turned out. It was a sea of Birkenstocks and flowy skirts. And a lot of really short hairstyles. Some spiky hairstyles, even. As we warmed up to an African chant, a baby was passed around the room. Why couldn’t the baby just stay with the father during choir time? I didn’t think to ask. As we sang a rendition of Norah Jones’ “Come Away With Me”, some pieces of the puzzle started coming together:

Choir: Come away with me in the night.
ThePeach’s Brain: What a lovely, warm, group of women. I feel so at home here.
Choir: Come away with me and I will write you a song.
ThePeach’s Brain: Does that woman have a rat tail?
Choir: Come away with me and we’ll kiss on a mountaintop.
ThePeach’s Brain: That’s sweet – some of the women are so into the song that they’re holding hands.
Choir: Come away with me and I’ll never stop loving you.
ThePeach’s Brain: Huh. So none of these women shave their legs?
Choir: I want to walk with you on a cloudy day.
ThePeach: OH MY GOD.

Yes, TheHippie and I had accidentally joined a lesbian choir. Not cool, Universe. Not. Cool.

We never went back. Maybe we were afraid…

Kidding. We were afraid, but only of the hairy middle-aged lesbians trying to seduce us through jazzy love songs.

2. The Lesbian Harmony
I didn’t mention that TheHippie is an alto (lower range singer) and I’m a soprano (higher range singer), so our voices were made for duets and harmony. It is like they were meant to intermingle to create one, beautiful voice. We discovered this at QueenB’s cottage last May, when TheHippie broke out her guitar and we had a little sing-along. We both felt like singing, so we had to find a song that we both knew all the words to. I rummaged through TheHippie’s sheet music and pulled out “Closer to Fine” by the Indigo Girls. Perfect. As TheHippie played and we both sang, my voice naturally took the higher harmony and her voice took the lower harmony. It was dyke-a-licious.

ThePeach/TheHippie: I’m trying to tell you something ‘bout my life. Maybe give me insight between black and white.
TheHubby: Oh my god.
ThePeach/TheHippie: And the best thing you’ve ever done for me is to help me take my life less seriously. It’s only life after all.
TheHubby: It’s so beautiful.
ThePeach/TheHippie: Well darkness has a hunger that’s insatiable and lightness has a call that’s hard to hear. I wrap my fears around me like a blanket.
TheHubby: *wipes a tear*
ThePeach/TheHippie: I sailed my ship of safety ‘til I sank it. I’m crawling on your shores.
TheHubby: This is the best lesbian harmony I’ve ever heard!
ThePeach/TheHippie: I WENT TO THE DOC- what? Lesbian?
TheHubby: *cough*…encore?

As you probably know, “Closer to Fine” is basically an anthem for lesbians the world over. And this is the song we naturally picked to sing together. In perfect harmony, like it was made for our voices. Shit.

3. The Lesbian Play
Sometimes I write articles for a communist newspaper in UniversityTown. Not because I’m a commie, but because they needed writers and I needed experience. Anyway, last summer I was asked to review a one-woman cabaret about breast cancer. It sounded somewhat fun and I got an extra ticket, so I asked TheHippie to join me. She picked me up at my house in a cute dress and I wore dress pants. We joked that it looked like we were on a date. Then we walked to the theatre. We noticed that there were a lot of motorcycles parked out front. And that a lot of women were walking into the theatre, but no men. And was that a rat-tail? A few of the women waved at us, and we realized that we knew them from “Shout, Sister!”. I ran into a classmate who was there with her girlfriend, and I introduced TheHippie to her lesbian lover. Then we all sat down.

TheHippie: Where are all the men?
ThePeach: I’m not sure, but I feel really comfortable in this atmosphere.
*lights dim*
MC: Welcome to the Breast Cancer Conqueror’s Cabaret: A One-Woman show about having breast cancer and also being a lesbian!
ThePeach/TheHippie: Shit.

4. The Spooning/Cuddling
As I briefly mentioned, TheHippie and I often share a bed when we’re crashing at a friend’s place or on a road trip. For some reason we just sleep really peacefully together. We both enjoy a good cuddle, and it just seems natural to spoon sometimes. Last May at QueenB’s cottage, TheHippie and I were once again sharing a bed. On the last night, I decided to go to bed a little bit earlier than TheHippie (I’d been drinking since noon, ok?) and passed out on the pullout couch instead of our usual bed. 30 minutes later, a VERY drunk TheHippie came stumbling into the cottage and tried to crawl into bed with me, except that she went to our usual bed, where TheHubby happened to be sleeping. After realizing the warm body next to her wasn’t her life partner, she drunkenly stumbled to the next bed she could find, and ended up crawling in with Cleavage. Cleavage wasn’t having any of TheHippie’s spooning, so TheHippie once again got up and continued to stumble around the cottage looking for me. She ended up sleeping in every bed in the cottage that night (there are 4) until she finally found me, and then she slept peacefully until morning. All was right in the universe once more.

Also, this past May…also at QueenB’s cottage (what the shit? Is this place a lesbian breeding ground or something?)…we were all sitting around drinking and talking when I suddenly got the irresistible urge to walk over to TheHippie and give her a big hug. As I released her, she jubilantly exclaimed:

TheHippie: My god! I was just thinking about how badly I wanted to hug you right now! You read my mind!

No, TheHippie. That’s exactly what the universe wants us to think.

5. The Lesbian Kiss
Lord, there’s no real way to make this sound heterosexual, but you have to believe me that it is! While we were both in that marching band, everyone always made out with everyone else. We were a slutty mob of kilted drunks. We would get drunk in hotels and then everybody would kiss. It’s just what we did. Sometimes we were topless. Sometimes there were pictures. We had an “Asian Cymbals Memorial Room”, you see. Yes, Asian Cymbals was in this band as well. Actually, all of the friends on my sidebar pretty much were in this band. Maybe now you’re starting to understand what it was like. Anyway, Asian Cymbals started a “naked room” a few years ago on a road trip, and we always followed this tradition after she graduated by having the “Asian Cymbals Memorial Room”. It usually got pretty messy.

One night on a road trip, knowing that we would be expected to take our tops off later, TheHippie was concerned that her bra wouldn’t be sexy enough for the naked room. So I lent her one of mine, since I’m a huge whore and have many skanky bras. As usual, everyone got ridonkulously smashed and ended up making out with everyone else. I’m talking girl on girl, boy on boy, girl on boy on girl…we were whores. And of course, everyone took pictures of the sloppiness. But one picture stood out and became immortalized in bands history. One picture showed a couple so in love that their makeout didn’t look sloppy and slutty (as in the rest of the pictures of that night), but looked pure and meaningful. It could have been a wedding photo. That picture was of TheHippie, wearing my bra, tenderly kissing me.

Of course. Of fucking course.

(disclaimer: if you were never in this band, you can’t really understand that this kiss was not a symbol of lesbian love, but a regular occurrence amongst all bands members. It did not mean that TheHippie or I were into women. In fact, I think I fooled around with a drummer that night in his hotel bed. Maybe also in the pool. Who knows. Alcohol is so wonderful.)

6. The Lesbian Uniform
I like pink. TheHippie likes blue. I often wear pink. TheHippie often wears blue. If we were a couple, she’d be the man. Sucka!

Anyway, for her birthday last year, I got TheHippie a lululemon headband in baby blue. I liked them so much that I also got myself one in baby pink. Then we joined a yoga class together and often ended up wearing our matching headbands at the same time. We must have looked like the sweetest granola lesbians, side-by-side in downward dog in our matching his and hers headbands. Aww.

Last week, I bought the best shoes ever. TheCorporate told me about them. They’re crocs. But they’re girly crocs! They look like ballet flats but they’re the most comfortable shoes ever! I naturally bought a pair in baby pink.

TheHippie went downtown to buy herself a pair of the cute crocs today. She came home and told me all about it:

TheHippie: I bought a pair of the cute crocs today!!
ThePeach: YES!! Aren’t they amazing!? What colour did you get?
TheHippie: Baby Blue!
ThePeach:…oh god.
TheHippie:…Yours are baby pink, aren’t they?
ThePeach: We should wear them with our matching headbands.
TheHippie: I wore mine while I was buying them!!
ThePeach: You do realize that we’re one step away from matching his and hers sailor suits?
TheHippie: Damn you, universe.

Damn you indeed.

Why can’t you just let me love TheHippie in peace? Leave our platonic love alone!!! The Universe is prejudiced against same-sex heterosexual love!

I leave you with a song from West Side Story:

There's a place for us,
Somewhere a place for us.
Peace and quiet and open air
Wait for us Somewhere.
There's a time for us,
Some day a time for us,
Time together with time to spare,
Time to learn, time to care,
Some day! Somewhere.
We'll find a new way of living,
We'll find a way of forgiving
Somewhere . . . There's a place for us,
A time and place for us.
Hold my hand and we're halfway there.
Hold my hand and I'll take you there
Somehow, Some day, Somewhere!


FauxHawk: if you’re reading this, it is imperative that we partake in heterosexual relations tonight. Imperative.

There’s a place for us…

ThePeach

2 comments:

theHubby said...

It is FauxHawk's job to "stick it to you" tonight! He must keep you from the dark side! If he doesn't dick you soon, I fear you'll slip into the fuzzy-pink-flannel abyss!

asian cymbals said...

Oh Peach!

It doesn't matter what the universe is telling you, if you're not ready to embrace the vagina as your lover, then you are not a lesbian. And it's not your fault you like kissing girls. They have nicer lips, and it's a more pleasant tactile experience.

And to be perfectly clear, I believe that the room was originally named "Naked For No Reason Room", and then shortened to "Naked Room" and after my time in the bands was over, renamed the "Asian Cymbals Memorial Naked Room". It's important to emphasize the Naked. Because that was the whole point - to be able to french many people while gently stroking their bare arms and legs and backs, all due to the convenience of partial nudity.

Oh god, we really were whores. How do we not have gonorrhea? The SAME gonorrhea??

P.S. I love you and miss you so much.