Category Archives: beer

An Angelika Date Night

The San Diego location of Angelika Cinemas

The San Diego location of Angelika Cinemas

Yesterday, my wife got official notice she’d been awarded her PhD. We were both ecstatic. Date night tonight, we decided. I worked late – much later than we expected – and so we weren’t sure if our previously planned dinner and a movie would work. We decided to do dinner (The Habit) and then see if we had time to make the 8:05 showing of The Martian at the new cinema practically next door. As we finished our chips (French fries to most Americans), we decided the movie was a go. The cinema we headed to is brand new. Like, been-open-maybe-3-weeks new. It’s called Angelika and it is a high-end, reclining seat/foot-rest, fancy food, digital projector cinema. We’d heard good things and were eager to try it. Normally, if we want to go to for a high-end film evening, we have to drive over to the coast. This new theater is only 15 minutes away.

We got to the lobby at 8:05. Recall our movie start time? Anyway, there was quite a ticket line and the two registers weren’t plowing through it fast enough. We tried to use the self service option, as well as Fandango, but neither was working (maybe they are connected). I politely asked a manager if there was any other way to get our tickets. He apologized for the delay but said there was not.

It’s not his fault we were late, obviously, so we thanked him and waited. My wife went to grab our snacks and I joined her with our tickets. Not only do they have those neat soda machines with 10,000 flavors, but Angelika serves craft beer, 8 taps of local beer to be exact (with 1 visiting beer from Avery Brewing in Colorado).

Chris, General Manager, Angelika San Diego

There was a glitch with the register and so they happily sent us into the theater and said they’d bring our credit card to us later. Again, us being late not their fault.

We went and found our dedicated seats: big, leather, comfy ones with a swing-out tray (like an old school desk, only much, much cooler). Only down side? Not loveseats like some have. Cuddling over the soft armrest still achievable, though. The cashier brought my card in almost immediately and asked me to stop after the movie to sign. We thoroughly enjoyed the movie, but we did not eat our caramel popcorn. It seemed a bit burned.

After the movie, we went out to sign the receipt and ask if they would refund us for the popcorn. Not only were they apologetic and happy to refund our money, they gave us a fresh bag and offered me another beer while they handled the refund. The manager from the ticket line came and found us to offer us 2 free tickets to return. Again he apologized for the delay in ticketing – though they didn’t do anything wrong. A different manager, Chris handled the refund and I complemented the beer selection. When he said he was responsible for the drafts, we had a nice chat. I asked Chris to pose for the glamorous tap shot above.

My wife and I wandered to the lobby to finish my beer and our popcorn, marveling at the outstanding customer service. To a person, they were kind, polite, and extremely helpful. We were both so impressed we thought a review was fitting.

If you are in San Diego, come check out our newest high-end cinema. If you are not, check Angelika’s website as they are in several other states (NY, VA, DC, and TX). Oh, and in case you were wondering, I had the Lost and Found from Lost Abbey.

It’s Butch to have date nights. Be Butch. 

14 Problems Only Butches and Femmes Who Love Them Understand

Today, I read a great list of problems only Butch lesbians understand. I laughed out loud. Many of you also enjoyed the list, judging by the plethora of comments. The author captured many of my Butch problems, but I couldn’t help myself. I thought of a few more. And, as a Butch who loves Femmes, mine are a little different.

So, go read Lane Moore’s post in Cosmopolitan – of all places – and then please see my humble additions below. 

1. Drink Umbrellas. You really want a mixed drink (rather than beer) but are afraid of what will come in or on your drink.
2. Parent Night at School. When your kid’s classmates ask if you are the mom “because you look more like the dad.”
3. She Looks Better In Your Clothes Than You Do. Actually, never mind.

4. Suitcases at Airports. You want to carry your bag and hers, but it’s a little too awkward. Plus, there’s the whole caveman stereotype.
5. That’s My Job. A cool new piece of furniture or technology gets delivered and you’re looking forward to putting it together when your girl grabs a boxcutter and is excited to get started.
6. When Your Mom Says You Look “So Pretty.” Or should I say “handsome”? Oh, honey, you know what I mean. (I do, Mom. 😜)
7. Getting Dressed. In anything other than casual attire. Until you decide the men’s section isn’t off limits, anyway.
8. Giant Boobs. Seriously. Why is it is #Butches seem to have the biggest racks? Girls would pay good money for racks like ours. Also, see number 6.
9. Tiffany. Betty Sue. Rebecca. Did you ever notice the Butches in your life have the girliest names? It’s so unfair.
10. Engagement Rings. You’ve bought her one. She said yes! Wait, why don’t you have a ring? Aren’t you excited? Well, I am, but I don’t want that big diamond hanging off my finger. What a hazard!
11. Manicures. Cut or file?, the lady asks. Cut. How short? Really short. Immediately conversation in another language happens. Followed by laughter.
12. You Miss The Pre-Lipstick Kiss. Your wife put her lipstick on and you missed your kiss. It’s going to be a long night before you get another chance.
13. Selfies. Hers are coy, playful, and sexy. Yours look like these.
Sigh. And here’s one more, special for me.
14. Butch or Bitch? When your wife is British and the two words sound a lot alike. What did she just call me?
It’s Butch to share lists of the funny things you experience as a Butch. Be Butch. 

The Pride of Chicago – Back Lot Bash

It was my great pleasure to hit the Back Lot Bash Music Festival on Saturday, June 28th in Andersonville, Chicago. You may have read the review and seen the photos I took from the opening Comedy Night (if not, here they are again).

On Saturday, my wife and I headed off to the festival armed with an umbrella – because my aunt is brilliant and prepared. We grabbed a quick bite at Lady Gregory next door. I was able to get in a Revolution Anti Hero American IPA and a Two Brothers Domaine DuPage Biere de Garde while we ate our brie and hearts of palm salad. As it was time to walk back to the festival, the sky opened up. Bravely, I trudged to our rental car to fetch the umbrella. Being from California, of course, it was possible that I might melt, but I shouldered on. I am glad I did.

We were the envy of the entire festival as we rolled in with our bright red umbrella. The attendees were so jealous! Anyway, the rain had thrown what you would think would be a real kink into things. The lesbians had scattered to the various tents and were huddled up together. Everyone was hoping it would pass quickly.

At this point, I saw the festival organizers, Christina Wiesmore and Amie Klujian. They were keeping it together – not what you might expect from the gurus of an outdoor festival during a downpour. Christina was drenched to the skin, but she had a big smile on her face. She must have been feeling some stress, but she did not let it show. It will pass, she chirped. I said, let’s have a wet t-shirt contest!
Kiyomi McCloskey, Hunter Valentine

Kiyomi McCloskey, Hunter Valentine

The storm did indeed pass, and the music continued. The evening was being emceed by Lauren Bedford Russell, who I interviewed a few months ago, and we arrived in time to see Hunter Valentine. I had the pleasure of interviewing Hunter’s lead Kiyomi McCloskey last year. The show was powerful and they rocked the festival – especially when Kiyomi crowd surfed. After Hunter Valentine closed their set, a popular local cover band Your Villain My Hero closed out the festival with song after song that kept the crowd dancing.

Check out all the shots I took here.

What to Buy a Butch for the Holidays

(Notice the clever, but oh-so-subtle use of “Holidays” instead of any particular December religiously-identified festivity.)

Alright, so you just realized that your daughter is a butch. Or you have finally realized that your mom, who you always knew was a lesbian, is a butch. Maybe your co-worker or boss is a butch and you want to give her a little something. Or, perhaps most worrisome, you are newly dating a butch – be you butch, femme, or otherwise… What to buy your butch for the holidays? Well, fear not dear readers. I am here to serve. In that vein, let me give you a list of the best gifts for a butch. Really, of course, it’s just a list of gifts that I think are super rad and worth giving to someone like me. Your butch may hate all of these things. Generalizations are only as useful as humor and light reading (i.e., my goal).

Note to my wife, kids, and parents: This is not for you! We’ve already covered our holidays. :o)

Now, given that I am not sponsored, I will not be referring you to any items that anyone has “paid” me to suggest – though I might happily create such a list next year, if any of the lovely people who make these items and items like these want to ask. This post is all me.

1.  Bow ties. Yes, the proverbial tie might be lame for your father (Right, Dad?), but butches (at least my kind of butches) love ties – bow ties specifically. The crazier the pattern, the better. Something I wouldn’t have picked out for myself. Something that reflects you, so that when I wear it, I will think of you. Maybe your butch doesn’t know how to tie a bow tie? Never fear, send her this link (, tell her how hot you think she’ll look, and give her a cool bow tie. She will be motivated to learn how to tie it.

My goodness! This is a real knife ($1600).

My goodness! This is a real knife ($1600).

2. Multi-tool. A fancy Leatherman or Swiss Army one is great, but you can also do any multi-tool you find in any bin at any hardware store or market. Because, let’s face it, what butch doesn’t want/need/have to have a pliers, pocket knife, and awl in her pocket/bag/car/desk at all times?

3. Alcohol. I’m going to say craft beer or scotch/whiskey. (I realize it’s a stretch). Minis are cool. If you do minis, get some weird stuff your butch may not have tried, or a full-size sampler of Belgian beers. There is always a Beers of the World box this time of year, and many of the butches I know would appreciate such a box.

4. Craft Beer Tour. I love experience gifts, as long as the giver comes with me. Send your butch on a craft beer tour. San Diego, Portland, San Francisco, Denver and other brew cities will have lots of these to choose from. Substitute historic homes or flower gardens if that’s better for your butch. It’s about the experience.

5. Anything from REI. For my non-US readers, REI is an outdoor adventure outfitter company and pretty much everything they have there is rad. Carabiners, D-rings, knifes, multi-tools, biking/kayaking/spelunking/climbing stuff, compasses, cool flashlights, solar-powered chargers for all your electronics. I mean, the list goes on and on. Any trip to REI will result in many lesbian sightings, even for non-lesbian flooded cities. I find things there each trip that I suddenly cannot live without, even though I never knew I needed them!

6. Video Games. Whatever her gaming system is (PS3/4, Wii U, iPad, etc.), take a look at her games and get her the newest one that is like those other ones she has. If she is into Call of Duty, she might not like Ratchet and Clank, for example. (It’s like the difference between a violent shooting game and a Mario Bros. game). Any of the people at a good gaming store (GameStop, Best Buy) will be able to make suggestions based on what your butch already owns and plays.

7. Lingerie. If you happen to be reading this as a femme in love with/married to/or dating a butch, consider giving your butch a lovely box of unmentionables that you will wear. I promise, your butch will think of this as a very special gift – even though you will be the one wearing it. Or get her lingerie for herself if she likes lacey things.

8. Kid Stuff. Kids take note, if you are of the age that you might need a ride to pick out a gift for your mom, think about making her something. Who doesn’t love a handcrafted gift from the kiddos? I, for one, absolutely cherish the painted cards, ironed crafts, and even the pottery gifts my angels have made for me. If you are old enough that you can drive to buy a gift yourself (but don’t want to make anything), think about getting your mum a gift card. If you know that your butch mom likes movies, music, or a particular store, you can get her a gift card for said store. No problem with that. Personally, I prefer that you struggle to choose something for me that you think I will like. But lots of people, butches included, love a gift card. If your mom loves going to Home Depot, then that might be a great gift card for her.

My new favorite. His shirts are so rad.

My new favorite. His shirts are so rad.

9. Her Favorite Dress Shirt. Parents, this is a great one for you. Think about getting your butch daughter her favorite designer shirt. Maybe it’s a little out of her price range (like my new favorite, Robert Graham), or maybe you found it on sale. Whatever the situation, one of the coolest things my mom and dad have given me in the past few years is dress shirts from my favorite designers. This falls into the category of things I might not have bought myself, and makes me feel very special. a) They paid attention to what shirts I like, and b) They took the time to go buy me something that they know I will wear and will make me feel great.

So there you have it, 9 ideas for gifts for the butch in your this holiday season. There are gobs of others, of course. Books, movies, food, tickets to a musical, concert, or ballet, candles, plants, tools, crochet kits. You get the idea!

Those of you who love a butch (mom, partner, friend, co-worker), It’s your turn to be butch. It’s very butch to give her a gift that shows you’ve been paying attention to what she likes and enjoys. Be Butch.

The Pleasure Pit

The aptly named gambling area at Planet Hollywood

The aptly named gambling area at Planet Hollywood

So I was with friends in Vegas recently – just for fun. One of the people in our group was having a birthday and so it was off to Vegas we go. This is the first time that I have found myself in Vegas as a single person. Ever. Woohoo! I promised myself and my friends that I was going to have some embarrassing moments. Do some stuff that I could really regret! And, you know what? I did.

The best beer I could find in Vegas.

The best beer I could find in Vegas.

Vegas. Lots of fun. Right? Drinking. Gambling. Shows. Food. Drinking. Lots of bad beer in Vegas. For real. Super hard to find any craft beer there. In fact, it was so bad that I tweeted a picture of me drinking what I had (not that I was complaining, it was supplied by a friend) and a beer distributor tweeted back that I should let them know the next time I was there and they would send me to the right places.

Yes, lots of all these things. Oh, and women. When you go to Vegas as a single person – at least this über faithful butch – all of a sudden, do you know what you see? Women. Attractive women. And, I mean everywhere. Now, I am no fool. I have now figured out that these women are, for the most part, instruments of the casino designed to part me from my money. Do you know what I mean? No? Well, perhaps you are a femme, or a gay man, or an über faithful coupled person. Everywhere we went, I saw attractive women. Most of them scantily clad. Never was this more true than at the Planet Hollywood Casino, and especially in their “The Pleasure Pit.”

A parade of distracting dealers in corsets.

A parade of distracting dealers in corsets.

Butches and straight men: STAY OUT OF THE PLEASURE PIT! You will lose money here.  You will be entertained, yes. You will have a lovely view, yes. If you are single, you will feel right at home here. But, you will lose. The casino has made a well-calculated bet on it.  How do I know this?

Because all of the dealers in The Pleasure Pit are lovely women wearing pink corsets, lacy boy shorts, and stockings. Because in between all the tables there are lots of even lovelier women in even less clothing dancing on tables. They aren’t really dancing, at least not in the way that a talented Vegas showgirl, go-go dancer, a trained pole-dancer, or a seasoned stripper dances. But, there they are, wearing next to nothing, and moving around in a dance-like motion. If you show any signs of being distracted by them, they will focus on you. Obviously, this is good for their tips – at least in my experience, but I am sure that the casino trains them. Anyone who has a large stack of chips, focus in. Anyone alone, focus in. Catch anyone staring at you? Oh, it’s on. We are taking all that sucker’s money. Word. At least Planet Hollywood doesn’t discriminate between its straight and gay patrons.

I think this is the dancer that cost me all that money!

I think this is the dancer that cost me all that money!

I am serious. My friends were like, “Butch, focus on your cards.” Seriously, focus! One friend even assisted me by turning my head towards my shrinking chip stack. But, the drinks kept coming, I blame another friend for that. Obviously, she didn’t make me drink them, but when someone (in a corset) hands me a perfectly good Jack and Diet, what am I to do? Anyway, let’s just say, combined with my wonderful friends, it was the most fun I have ever had losing money.

Please, heed my advice. Ignore me at your wallet’s peril. Enough on the distracting dealers and dancers of The Pleasure Pit. On to the really interesting story. After some of our crew has left, the rest of us were trying to decide what to do. See a show? Penn & Teller? Nah. Cirque? Amazing, but too expensive (especially after The Pleasure Pit smack down). Gamble? Out of the question for a couple of us. What to do… Umm, how about a strip club?

It’s hella butch to have fun with your friends in Vegas. Be Butch.

Location x 3

Let me set the scene for you. I’m out with some friends of mine at a hipster new place in the gayborhood. [For you locals: I happen to like this place a lot. It’s called 100 Wines and I have been there a couple of times.] There’s a 45 minute wait. It’s got low lighting, craft beers, lots of wines, small plates, cool French modern looking decor. You got it?


At some point in the meal, I excuse myself to go to the restroom. No worries. First, it’s a single ladies room – so there’s no stress of being inside the restroom and someone freaking out as I come in. Second, I’m in the gayborhood. There are lots of gays here. Tons. Safe. Right? Wrong.

Coming out of the restroom, relaxed and refreshed, I was not on the defensive. Not prepared, as it were, which I normally would be. I open the door and exit the restroom. There’s two women waiting outside. I hear one say as I round the door to walk away, “That’s a man obviously, right?” Stop. Whirl on my heel, I walk back to her very quickly, place my hand on her upper arm for her attention and reply staring her in the eyes, “No, and I can hear you.”

Without waiting for any reply, I whirl around again and stride off standing as tall as I possibly can. I was shocked. Who the hell does she think she is? Where the hell does she think she is? I mean literally, most of the patrons here are gay. It’s not like I was the only butch in there. WTF?!?

I slip back into my seat and spill the story to my boys immediately. It comes out in one gush. They listen supportively, appropriately shocked and indignant along with me. Bless their hearts, they share similar embarrassing stories. You have to love good friends.

During this, and quickly after my return, the manager who had been near the two women, comes up beside me. She is mortified and apologetic. “We try so hard to make sure all are welcome here,” she says. “I’m so sorry that woman treated you that way.” I explain that I hardly ever say anything when it happens and that I thought I might’ve been a little rough. No, no! She assures me that I handled it gracefully and with class. More apologies and well-wishes and she leaves us to what’s left of our trendy, hip dinner in the gayborhood.

Getting confused or sir’d happens to me almost daily. I am used to it. I just returned from an attempted trip back east (I say “attempted” because Hurricane Sandy had other plans) where I had stops in Charlotte and Dallas. I expect to be sir’d in these places. In fact, I basically passed as a dude during the entire trip. No problem. And, no offense taken when I did get sir’d.

But put me in my own office, or my gayborhood and you better watch-the-fuck-out if you accuse me loudly of using the wrong bathroom, and think I can’t hear you when you practically scream it.  I guess it really is all about location.

It’s butch to not punch an insensitive (and rude) straight woman in the face in the gayborhood. Be butch.

Zip It!

illustration by Mark A. Hicks, illustrator

As a butch in a butch-femme relationship (not all butches are, of course), one must be aware of one’s role in the relationship. We are the strong ones. The helpful, gallant ones. We are obedient and faithful. As such, there are a variety of things that should not escape our lips when we are addressing our femme. Remember, not everything needs to be said out loud. The statements below are butch fails in a variety of categories: stupidity, weakness, laziness, your ex, and just plain “guying out,” when you act like a dude in all the wrong ways.


“Baby, wow – you really need to do your roots.” So dumb. You may as well tell her that she looks like crap. She is beautiful all the time. You cannot point this out, or if you do, you had better do it in a nice & easy kind of way. Femmes like us to think that they are magically gorgeous all the time. Calling out her roots is a reminder that things are done behind the scenes to pretty her up, and then you’ve got her worrying that her hair looks horrible.

“Your lipstick is gone. Shouldn’t you reapply? You just told her that she needs lipstick to look good. If her lipstick wears off, from kissing you(!) or otherwise, leave it. She looks just fine without any on. Plus, she probably knows that she needs to reapply and just hasn’t gotten to it yet. Keep your mouth closed, and chances are she will get to it on her own in time. And, you are likely to keep the kisses coming.

“You are just like your mother” or, the related “Your mother is right.” No one likes to hear that they are like their mother – especially since it’s usually used in a negative way. Her mother, and your mother too, are probably right, but you cannot use her mother against her. [Butch note: I would be lucky if I were like my mother, Hi Mom!]

“Your friend is pretty.” Now all she can think of is whether you are preoccupied with her friend. Her friend might be gorgeous, but this is an inside thought.

“Are you ready yet?” No, she isn’t and you need to wait. Have a beer, do some dishes, clean the fireplace, hit something with a hammer. Whatever. She isn’t ready yet because she is beautifying for your benefit. Better to wait it out patiently.


“Can you kill that spider for me?” You are the butch. You are the spider killer. No one likes to kill spiders, snakes, or any other creepy crawlies, but you are the butch, so this is your job. Plus, you get to look tough, an opportunity that should never be ignored.

“I don’t want to go downstairs and check out that sound you just heard. Just take the bat with you.” Butch up, now. You can be scared. You don’t have to like that you have to get out of bed and go downstairs in the middle of the night because your girl thinks she heard something. But, you know what? Do it anyway. If you are really scared, it’s ok to have her come with you – behind you, of course.


“Honey, please carry my suitcase, it is so heavy.” This is not ok. Ever. I have a cast on my leg right now. My gorgeous finance wanted to schlep our suitcases during a recent trip and I still wouldn’t let her. We have too many bags for me to carry alone, so of course she pulls her weight, but not with the big bags. What kind of a tool bag would I look like if I let her lift the big bags off the belt or carry them out of the airport?

“I’m too tired to take out the trash [or do whatever she is asking you to do].” This won’t go well. Butches, take out the trash, change the light bulb, pick up your shit. Whatever she asks you to do, you do it. And, smile! Why? Because she is pretty…and she smells good.

“Can you get me a beer?” Is it wonderful when your girl brings you a beer? Absolutely. Can she do that for you? Certainly. My gorgeous fiancé likes to bring me a beer – but she has to offer.


“She made killer chicken.” This is a mistake. If you say something like this, you don’t know women. I never do this (holy crap, I know better) but I know some women who have to put up with it. As a butch, you think it’s just about chicken. And to you, it probably is. But your girl will take this as an insult to the chicken she cooked for you, and will assume you just told her that your ex is across the board superior to her. You are likely to end up with her undoubtedly delicious chicken in your lap and, if you’re lucky enough that she cooks chicken for you ever again, a reminder each time that you said something so stupid.

Bottom line, she doesn’t want to hear about your ex unless it’s about how fat or whatever she is, so zip it – tightly.


“Wow, that woman is hot.” Now, I am sure that I do not have to explain this to any of you butches in a relationship. If you aren’t in a relationship, perhaps this is why. Don’t say anyone else is hot, unless maybe it’s about J-Lo, because your girl thinks she’s hot too. Unless you’re talking about an unobtainable movie star, keep your comments and your eyes – to yourself. You only have eyes for her. But if you don’t, don’t be fool enough to be so obvious.

“Dude…” Femmes do not like to be referred to as “Dude” or “Man” or “Brah” or any other affectionate tough term that butches might use with dudes or other butches. I said this to my gorgeous fiancé not that long ago and she said, “Don’t call me dude.” Message received.

“Oh, ok, if everything is ‘fine’ then great.” Butches, when a woman says that everything is “fine,” nothing is “fine.” Bear down because you probably have a long conversation ahead of you. Best to gently push and ask what she is thinking. Second best, hightail it out of there and give her some space.

I am sure that there are lots of other things that us butches have said to our femmes and then wished we hadn’t. Anyone want to share?

It’s butch to zip it. Be butch.


I was recently playing Monopoly on my smart phone and it got me thinking…  What if there was a butch-themed

Wouldn’t it be great if we had our own version?

Monopoly game?  What would the game look like?

Traditionally, Monopoly has 8 sets of colored properties, 2 utilities, and 4 railroads to buy. Hazards include 2 kinds of taxes and, of course, jail. The pieces a player gets to choose from are: battleship, cannon, dog, iron, race car, shoe, thimble, top hat, and wheelbarrow. I note that some editions also have a man on horseback, a train, and a sack of money, but I’ve never seen or played with those.

If I were to butch up Monopoly, it might look something like this.

The properties one would buy would be 8 different breweries, with my 3 favorite beers from each. The utilities would be Home Depot and Target (a butch can get everything she needs for daily living at these two stores, minus clothes and food, of course).  The tax squares would be classic butch problem situations resulting in the payment of a Femme Tax.  One would be: “You’ve been caught staring at another woman, buy your femme flowers to try to fix it.” The second:  “You have no idea what your femme is trying to tell you so you have to hire a translator to save your dumb ass.”

Community Chest becomes Femme Chests and includes cards explaining a variety of things you do that are “Butch Fails” and will send you directly Butch Jail – do not pass go, do not collect $200.  But, it’s alright because Butch Jail is staffed by sexy femme prison guards.  Meow.

The pieces would be transformed like this:
Battleship = Polar Bear, because they are big and powerful like a battleship, but not charged with that militaristic, gas-guzzling, establishment, gay-hating aura that the armed forces have.
Dog = Shark.  Remember, sharks are hella butch.
Iron = Toolbox. Obviously.
Race car = This is my favorite piece, so it would stay. Model it after a Shelby Cobra, though.
Shoe = Engineer boot. Very butch.
Top hat = Bow tie. ’nuff said.
Wheelbarrow = Big beer bottle.
Thimble = BBQ grill

Now, who wants to play?

It’s butch to play games.  Be butch.

Butch Fails

I want to talk about an important issue for you butches out there. A little issue I have affectionately dubbed, “Butch Fails.” Straight men, pay attention. I am sure that you’ve had plenty of Butch Fails as well. If you don’t think so, read this then ask your wife or girlfriend.  She will confirm, I guarantee. Alright, now that I have your attention, let me explain the Butch Fail.

A Butch Fail occurs when you, the butch, mess up something for your femme. I don’t mean something big, like a birthday or Valentine’s Day. I mean small, every day stuff, such as not holding the door open for your femme. Butch Fail. You fail to be gallant, to care for her, to show her in those little ways that you are a gentleman (for lack of a better word, I choose that one). I always want to be a gentleman. My mother will tell you that I have been a gentleman my whole life. Even as a child, I took pride in caring for her – opening the door as soon as I could, being protective, and the like. That was probably a sign that I would grow up to be a butch.

So, let me take you through some sample Butch Fails. All of these are fails I have personally committed. Sacre bleu! I try hard, but it’s a wonder that I am not single. Thank you, honey!

1.  The Tiny Sweater. You pull your weight in the laundry area (you’d better!), but do not remember, even when reminded, to remove the sweater from the wash and lay it out to dry instead of putting it in the dryer. The resulting tiny sweater that your girl now calls a belly shirt is a painful reminder to her that you are sometimes an idiot. How could you dry a sweater? Bras not placed into lingerie bags and thrown in with the rest of the clothes also fall into this same category. Butch Fail.

2.  Something’s Different? This occurs when your femme sports a new color or technique of makeup, and you do not notice. Just who do you think she is doing all that work and makeup for anyway? Same thing would apply to a haircut, but that is not one that I have stumbled on. Butch Fail.

3.  Closed Doors. This one is obvious. Hold the door open for her. You can’t have her trailing behind you wondering why the hell you had to go in first. Allow her to pass through first. Every time, no exceptions. Duh. So basic. And yet, I have messed this one up on occasion. Butch Fail.

4.  Shiver Me Femme. This is how it goes in our house. I gently suggest to my fiancé that she needs a jacket as we are readying to leave the house. I bring a jacket because I’m a prepared butch. She does not – she doesn’t have one that goes with her outfit, I am told. So there we are at whatever event and she is shivering. Over time, I have become irritated with this, I admit. Once, I did not give her my jacket. She wouldn’t ask for it, because she knows that she should have brought one, and so she was freezing. I felt awful, but was trying to hold my ground. This is wrong. I am the butch, so I get to be cold. Butch Fail.

5.  Beer Blurt. At a gastropub (translation, hella cool beer list), the waiter comes to take our food order and I am so excited that, as my fiancé is placing her order, I blurt out my beer order.  Not only did I not show any concern for my fiancé – say, asking her what she wanted, or even better, preparing to order for her – I interrupted her. That’s right. I actually cut her off mid-iced tea ordering and gave the waiter my beer choice. Even the waiter rolled his eyes. Like, dude, relax, you’ll get your beer, but you won’t be getting anything else tonight! The Beer Blurt is an epic Butch Fail.

6.  Nordstrom No-No. We went to Nordies to pick up her pants that had been hemmed. We didn’t have time to shop, so she was just going to run in. Trying to be a gentleman, I dropped her off right at the door and said I would circle and come back to pick her up. So far, so good, right butches? Then, after she gets out of the car, and is right near the front of the car about to pass in front, I start to drive off, almost running her foot over! What a dumb ass thing to do. She knocks on the car hood rapidly and looks at me in disbelief. Butch Fail.

7.  I Don’t Care. This one can occur in many scenarios. Here is mine. My fiancé is very up-to-date on the hot topics (gossip) in the entertainment world. I am not, even though I am in that business. She reads People and keeps up with Perez; I do not. It happened once or twice in the early stages of our courtship that she shared a fact with me or a tidbit that she found interesting.  Think, a pic of Angelina and Brad’s little Shiloh (such a cute little butch!), J Lo’s dress from the Oscars, Jonah Hill’s weight loss efforts, or how much Meryl Streep’s daughter looks like her.  These things are less than interesting. I do not care about little Shiloh (although it bears repeating, such a cute little butch!), dresses from the Oscars, weight loss tips from the stars, or celebrity offspring. And I told her as much. Let’s recap. She shares something that she thinks is interesting. I say “I don’t care about that.” She feels disrespected and disregarded. Butch Fail.

Everything she says is important and worthy of your attention. Listen to me…it does not matter what it is, you had better care, or at least don’t actually say that you don’t. If you don’t care, pretend. And you better be a damn good pretender. Trust me, everything she says is important. “But, Butch,” you ask, “even when it’s not?” Yes! Even when it’s not.

8.  Butch Gaze. Caught staring at another woman. No explanation needed. Butch Fail.

9.  Auto Pilot. One time, and only one time, I made the mistake of zoning out at a gas station in the passenger seat, while my girl pumped the gas. I wasn’t sick. I wasn’t hung over or exhausted. My legs weren’t broken. I was just a lazy, zoned out idiot. I am not saying that a butch has to pump the gas every single time. If your girl offers or insists, fine. What are we, cavemen? No, of course not. But the default is that butches pump the gas. Sitting in the passenger seat without any excuse and letting your girl get the gas while you zone out or look at Facebook? Butch Fail.

These are all things that I have been guilty of. Thank goodness my fiancé allows for me to mess up. We usually have a good laugh about it. One of the good things about us butches is that we are trainable. We do what we are told. If I do something wrong, tell me, and I will try to do it right the next time.

What are some of your Butch Fails?

It’s butch to fail, as long as you fix it. Be butch.