Tag Archives: Dyke Fashion

She Found Me

Butch is single. Isn’t she? I committed in a post late last year that Butch would stay single. It’s easier, I thought. After all, I need to keep some things for myself. Right? Plus, it is a lot of fun to flirt. No harm or anything. Just fun. Only it’s getting harder for Butch to be single. Butch has always been close to me. Not exactly me, but close. Butch is more confident than I am. More flirtatious. More fun, too. But, as Butch, I talk about things that really happen in my life. About thoughts that I really have. About my kids. My parents. My friends. Always. And yet, Butch is separate. I did that to protect myself. And my kids. My parents. My friends. And any woman I might be lucky enough to date.

But, I also put out a call to the Universe asking for what I want in my next partner. It was a pretty detailed list. I said I hoped I’d be lucky enough to find her someday. Well, I did. Or rather, She found me.

I haven’t wanted to share this, and so I’ve really not been sharing much at all. I haven’t posted anything in over a month. That ends now. So… I am not single. And, neither is Butch. I won’t tell you about her, though.

But, oh my gosh. I wish I could tell you about her! If I could, I would probably start out by telling you that she is beautiful. Gorgeous, really. She has style and dramatic flair. Everyone sees her. She turns heads when she walks anywhere. Men flirt with her. Butches would too, if I wasn’t standing there (trying to look even taller and bigger than I am). My friends all tell me how gorgeous she is – in that way that reminds me she’s out of my league. (I’m sure they don’t mean it that way, but my rampant insecurity, well, you know.)

She has curves. And freckles. Sigh on both counts. She is funny, and charming. Thoughtful and considerate. She is kind. Like so kind that I sometimes think she must be teasing me – but, she’s not. She is the nicest woman I have ever kissed. And, adorable. When she smiles and laughs it melts my heart. She is smart. Scary smart. Fiercely independent. Strong. Sassy. And sophisticated, well-traveled, open-minded, but not full of herself. Just a touch of uncertainty which makes her gorgeousness and brilliance tolerable.

I would also tell you that her friends call her a mermaid. She loves the water. She is crafty and likes to sew. She likes to go out and have fun. Wants to travel the world with me, and cuddle on the couch. She loves to play with my kids and that goes a long way. My kids adore her. And she them. I am pretty much over the moon.

Butch & Femme Hands

Butch & Femme Hands

So She found me. For the life of me, I don’t know why She did or what She sees in me. It’s definitely a Beauty and the beast thing we’ve got going. (She corrected me, “It’s not a Beauty and the Beast thing, it’s a Beauty and the Butch thing.”)

It’s too bad I can’t tell you about her. She really is amazing, but you’ll just have to trust me.

So, not only am I not single (and neither is Butch), I am in love. And so is Butch… With an amazing, sexy, gorgeous, brilliant, kind, funny, charming, adorable, independent, passionate Femme.

It’s Butch to be found by the world’s most amazing Femme and to recognize you’ve been found. I hope you are as lucky as me. Be Butch.


Hunting for Valentines: Interview with Kiyomi

 

Kiyomi is talented... and hot.

Kiyomi is talented… and hot.

 

I broke my interviewing cherry with Kiyomi McCloskey from Hunter Valentine. Now, don’t worry. I already know that I am not a journalist (surprise!), nor do I write for Rolling Stone, so I decided to just talk to Kiyomi — and, of course, ask questions that I thought people who read my blog would be interested in: things about beer, fashion, travel, dating, and being butch. If you want more of the “who’s your musical influence”-type questions, go check out Hunter Valentine’s website. Oh, and Google them, as many journalists do. Read the rest of this interview on the Huffington Post:

Hunting for Valentines: Interview with Kiyomi.

Let the Huffington Post know you like ButchOnTap

Let the Huffington Post know you like ButchOnTap

While you are there, would you please hit the “like” button next to my name at the top of the page? This is to like me as an author, rather than liking the particular article. Of course, you can do that too. ;o) Thank you!


A Spotless Bowtie

Can you spot the bow tie?

Can you spot the bow tie?

When I was in Tokyo last month I had the privilege of visiting one of our factories. This is where my company makes some ridiculously sophisticated stuff. I mean, seriously. I could not possibly explain it. So, I was delighted to fly to a distant island in Japan and zip on into a special place where no lawyer has been able to go before. One small step for Butch Jaxon, One giant step for Butches everywhere.

This is one of those places where you cannot leave dirt, hair, sweat, or DNA. I had to wear a special suit to visit this “clean room” environment. This means that two women helped me into a hair net (which is bad for the hawk), face mask, special suit (with double cuffs at the arms and ankles), a ski mask like hood, and special booties. Oh so sexy. After getting into my E.T. or Monsters Inc. like outfit, I walked down a corridor filled with air hoses to blow off any remaining filth and into an air-locked chamber before entering the clean room. Wow. What a neat experience.

After the visit (I could tell you what I saw and learned but I’d have to kill you), as the same women were helping us out of our special sterile gear, our guide offered to take our picture. I knew I had to do it. I donned the gear again, and of course, added my special touch. Can you see it?

It’s butch to accessorize, even in the toughest environments, and with the ugliest outfits imaginable. Be Butch.


Three Lesbians Walk Into a Strip Club

Vegas' OG strip club

Vegas’ OG strip club

So, in my last post I left off with the statement, “Umm, how about a strip club?” Well…

Yes! We had a winner. Into a cab we piled and headed way off the strip to Olympic Gardens. I’ve never been here before, but it’s a bit of a Vegas institution. The bottom floor is women strippers, and the top is men. Something for everyone. As we got into cab, the bellman said, “OG.” I took it as a compliment. Yeah, we are original gangsters because – you know – we were rolling like that. LOL. I mean, really. Three white lesbians cocked and ready to go.  Oh yea.

No, Butch, you lame ass. That’s what they call the club. So, off to OG we “rolled.”

Now, I have been to plenty of strip clubs in my day. Enough to relax about it. But, being single. Being in Vegas. With good friends. I got excited. Like when you are about-to-board-a-roller-coaster excited. In we went, slightly (fairly?) intoxicated.

I imagine that a few of you reading this might never have been to a strip club – perish the thought! As I have written before, I am available to be your wingman or tour guide for such an outing. Or, better yet, take your girlfriend – that’s hot. In the meantime, allow me to set the stage – so to speak. I mean, you won’t find Butch dancing on any poles – at least not in public!

All the strip clubs I have been to are laid out the same. There is a long dark hallway leading up to the entrance. Some have a cover charge you’ll pay when you show your ID and others do not. If they do not, they might have a two drink minimum, or maybe not. OG has a cover. Once paid and our IDs were checked, we moved into the club proper, also dark, though lighter than the hallway. Usually near the door is a bar, and a cashier. Past that is the main body of the club. A stage in the center of the room, with a varying number of poles for dancers. Flanking the stage will be front row seats. Further back from the stage, you will find tables and chairs, and still further back in the shadows, you will find booths. Sometimes, there are also back rooms and curtained off areas. I would avoid those for sure – no matter how nice the club is. But of course, to each her own.

Our first stop was for singles from the cashier – I got a lot. Second, my friend has found the perfect spot by the stage. At OG, there are 4 poles on the stage, but it looks like at any given time on this evening, only one will be in use. I kid you not, that within one dancer (a set of three songs) of us being there, every stripper used the pole right in front of us. And, do you know why? Because we were a group of lesbians. Respectful, well-behaved lesbians. And we were all tipping. So politely, too. The strippers must have sent up a flare. “OVER HERE! Kind Lesbians who won’t grope you. Dance over here, Ladies!”

A lovely, hard-working woman on a pole. Do you know how hard this is to do?

A lovely, hard-working woman on a pole. Do you know how hard this is to do?

And they did. And we didn’t. Lesbians must be the most respectful audience at a strip club. Why? We love women, so we pay attention. We love women, so we are respectful and super appreciative of: 1) how hard it is to move like that, 2) how difficult it is to stay looking like that, and 3) how gross it must be to dance for straight men all day. Sorry, guys. You must admit that strip clubs are not your best environment. You kinda come here to let loose, right? And, drop those gentlemanly manners of yours. Well, I don’t think that’s true for lesbians. At least not for me, and not for my friends.

So, we had lots of dancers focused on us. Stopping by, dancing close, of course, to encourage us to tip. The first dancer who came up to me asks me if I am single, and I said yes. My friends aren’t, so guess who got the most attention? This lesbian right here. How much fun was this! Beautiful women dancing for me, expecting nothing other than I pay attention and keep slipping ones into the various strings that they are wearing solely for this purpose. I’m not leaving here with a stripper. I’m not heading into any back room. Right? So, all I have to do is enjoy the femme attention. Oh, and keep paying for it with that big stack of ones in front of me. Done.

Now, as butch as I am, and as much as I like to pretend that I am a player (did I say pretend?), I am quite embarrassed to actually deliver the ones. I want to tip because I appreciate their work, but I am afraid to touch them because that seems so disrespectful. Thus, I have to be told that it is indeed ok to slide the dollar bill into the dancers’ g-string, or even better, they explain, into the special snappy string that they are wearing underneath the g-string. Yikes. [“Umm, where should I put it?” “Wherever you like, honey!”] After a few tries, I got it down. One dancer actually said to me when I verbalized my hesitation, “Honey! We are strippers, grab away. If you’ve got a one for me, slide it wherever you like!” I’m pretty sure I blushed – because, you know, I am just (not) that cool.

IMG_0315

As long as I’ve got my suit and tie…

So, there I am. All dressed up (three piece navy blue suit, dress shirt, bow tie, cufflinks, etc.). With good friends. Drinking. And, having a procession of young, attractive women with lithe bodies doting on us and me. Sigh. Some of you will think me a pig, I realize, and that’s ok. I had fun and if you don’t like it, so be it.

I finally had the nerve to get a lap dance. First time in my life.  The dancer had come over almost as soon as we sat down and started chatting me up. As you do. Anyway, later in the evening, I decided to go for it. We headed over to one of those couches – remember the ones that are just past the tables and more in shadows?

There was a lot, a lot, of chatting at the start, something I’m sure is not normal with male patrons. The stripper told me all about her family and why she was dancing. Then she shifted to the main event and started to dance kind of around, in front, and over me. It lasted longer than I thought it would, even though I bought a second dance.

When I went back to my friends, they peppered me with questions. How was it? Was it worth it? How do you feel? Blushing, I am pretty sure, I answered that it was nice. Much more intimate than I expected, but not gross. I got roundly teased and then we all turned our attention back to the dancers on stage. Those ones won’t tip themselves!

As we left the club, that dancer ran up to me and gave me a hug. She was topless as she had just left the patron (male, natch) that she was with and came to say goodbye to us. I guess we left an impression on her and others. What with being polite, respectful, and good tippers. Plus, we stood out. A group of very tall lesbians, including a few Butches. Anyway, I was proud of our group, but I suspect that this would be the case with any posse of lesbos. We are just so different in this environment from our male counterparts, and these, dancers, erm, strippers (“Honey!”) appreciated us – or maybe just our ones. :o)

It’s very butch to hit a strip club, and even more butch to make sure you tip well and treat the dancers like angels (such a hard job…). Be Butch.


How Butch Are You?

Plenty of readers have asked me a variety of this question: How do I know if I am butch? How do I know if someone else is butch? Why don’t people know I am butch? Or, what about lesbians that look butch, but don’t identify as butch? “Well, she is wearing a vest, after all!” And, what about lesbians that identify as butch, but no one sees them as such? “You can’t be butch, you have a purse!”

As I am now clearly the worldwide expert on this (NOT!), I do feel compelled to try to answer. And, frankly, I am honoured (trying to appeal to my newly broadened audience with a more international spelling) that any of you would ask for my opinion. My hope is that this blog will start a lively conversation and that a LOT of you will comment on this post, adding your view and opinions to what I have to say. As I have said before, there are many ways to be butch, and there is no right way. And, it is definitely more than the clothes. That is just the wrapper on the yummy butchness inside.

It comes down to two things, IMHO

It comes down to two things, IMHO

Being butch, in my opinion, is about two things. How you see yourself and how others see you. Of course the first one is the only one that matters; but the second is important if you want to appear to the world in a way that is congruent with your view of yourself.

1.  How You See Yourself

Michelle Pfeiffer isn't butch just because you put her in a suit.

Michelle Pfeiffer isn’t butch just because you put her in a suit. And, meow!

So, how do you see yourself? Do you feel butch? Do you like the label, tag, or identification of butch? Does it feel like it fits you? That’s the crux. If you feel like a butch, but you wear dresses, good for you. If you feel like a femme, but wear only men’s suits and fantastic vests, good for you. You alone define yourself.

I spend a lot of time on my blog “defining” what it means to be butch, but this is always tongue in cheek. You can read some of these, like How to Be Butch* (http://wp.me/p27vDp-3W) and I am a Butch (http://wp.me/p27vDp-3W). I am simply defining what it means to me, and of course, trying to do it in a way that is amusing for all of you (or maybe most of you? Some of you?). For example, I don’t wear lipstick or makeup (except for eyeliner, which I call “guyliner”). I wear all men’s clothes. I have super short hair (a Mohawk, to be precise). I am bigger and taller than most of my friends, many men included. I like to be strong and want muscles. But that is just me. There are a tremendous variety of lesbians who are butch that would take exception to much of that. Again, it only matters how you see yourself. Do you feel butch?

2.  How Others See You

kd lang didn't become a femme when she put this dress on - my favorite song of hers, btw.

kd lang didn’t become a femme when she put this dress on – my favorite song of hers, btw.

As humans, we have a need to label and categorize ourselves and others. Yes, labels are bad. No one fits precisely into any one category, but don’t hate. You know it’s true. You walk down the street and you see someone, anyone, and you assess them in a split second. Safe, dangerous, attractive, ugly, straight, gay, athlete, lazy, rich, poor, smart, dumb. Translation: desirable or undesirable. Of course, the classifications are much more complex – a handsome, straight, well-educated, well-off, married man. And, so on. While you’re doing it, so is everyone else. Making judgments about you based solely on how you dress, walk, look, and talk. Most people probably see me and think, “There is a big, butch dyke.” [Note: To our ally readers, don’t use the word “dyke” unless your lesbian friend told you it was ok to use it, and then, only use it with her. It’s hate speech and with a butch, it might get you punched in the face.] I’d rather it was, “There is a handsome, dashing, well-educated, charming single butch.” We can all dream. How do people see you? Do your friends think you are butch? What does your mom think? Side note here, my 9-year old recently told a lady at Nordstrom that her mom is butch. I am lucky because the way I see myself lines up with the way others see me – as Über Butch. Whew.

The vast majority of lesbians that I know define themselves as neither butch nor femme. It is much more common to simply consider oneself a lesbian. There is a spectrum of lesbians. On one end of the spectrum are the most masculine lesbians who identify as butch – maybe 15% of the lesbian population. On the other far end of the spectrum are the most feminine lesbians – maybe 15%. But the vast majority of lesbians (70%) would fall somewhere in the middle. I am just picking numbers based on my experiences, no research or anything. This article needs citations!

I have no idea how Jillian Michaels defines herself. She might not look butch in those dresses, but her attitude and poise are hella butch. Hey girl!

I have no idea how Jillian Michaels defines herself. She might not look butch in those dresses, but her attitude and poise are hella butch. Hey girl!

3. But, Who Cares?

The bottom line is that there is no one way to be butch. For me, being butch means that I want to take care of the woman I love – to protect her. I want to be bigger and stronger. Sometimes when I am lifting, I want to pound my chest and roar (Jillian would probably approve). As dumb as that is, I want a woman who thinks it’s cute – or maybe even hot. I want to open the doors. I want her to wear heels, lipstick, dresses. But that’s just me! How about you? What makes you butch?

I would like to add that there are gobs of lesbians that are more butch than me, and I am good with that. Butches, we are good. No need to track me down in a bar, or (gulp) side street and challenge my butchness. You win! Please don’t come looking for me unless you want to grab a beer. If you are butcher than me, I will buy…

Some random blogger's shirt. Heh!

Some random blogger’s shirt. Heh!

I would also like to add that if any of you think you might be a femme, but aren’t sure and would like help figuring it out, come looking for me! I am available for consultations, including door opening, and roaring. We will get you through this – together.

It’s butch to define yourself. Be Butch.


Finding Butch

I was inspired by my blog idol, Butch Wonders, to do a regular post about some of the funniest search terms that land people at my blog. After checking in with Butch Wonders, I am proud to proceed with my first edition of this. So, here are the top 10 oddest or most interesting search terms that lead folks to ButchOnTap last month:

  1. monopoly game on iphone wont let me resume my game what do i do – Turn off your phone. Look around you. The world is beautiful. Or, find a friend to play Monopoly with. Wouldn’t it be great if you could play Butchopoly?
  2. Can a fat butch be sexy?– Yes. Anyone can be sexy. The same rules apply to butches as to non-butches. Big or

    Image courtesy of heidihat.com

    small you can be hotter than hell, but not if you are wearing sweatpants … probably. There are always exceptions.

  3. do skinny jeans go with Mohawk – Everything goes with a Mohawk. Next?
  4. i look around and wonder and stare unknowingly how to stop – Oh my. I had no idea that “What are you looking at?” would pull in a lost soul like this. Step One: Go to the doctor. Step Two: Go see a therapist. Step Three: Perhaps stop playing Monopoly on your iphone? It might be reducing your attention span.
  5. i’m so ugly, should i become a big, butch lesbian? – NO! We don’t want you. Please pick another career or pursuit. Butch lesbians are hot.
  6. what does a kiss mean to a butch lesbian advice – The same thing that it means to a femme, a lesbian, a gay man, a straight woman, or a straight man. Depends on the kiss, of course, but doesn’t it usually mean, “Let’s go”? You are all free to come and kiss me and we can experiment to see if that is the correct interpretation… unless you are the person who asked the question in number 5.
  7. lesbian bow ties – Great! I didn’t know there were lesbian bow ties. I need to get some of those. So far, I just have a whole bunch of non-sexually identified bow ties.
  8. she is very big and strong – Why, thank you!
  9. makeup for butch – I don’t speak for every butch, but I think it is pretty safe to say on behalf of most of us, “Butch doesn’t care for any make up, unless it’s on a femme.” Oh, is that what you meant? Then, yes, please.
  10. i dont care what you say yes we are both lesbians butch but i do love her – Butches can be attracted to femmes, lesbians who are not identified as femmes, bois, and even other butches. Attraction isn’t about roles and correctness. It is about what you want and what feels good. So to the two “lesbians butch,” mazel tov.

Just Another Lesbian

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This morning I was dropping my kids off at school when I realized something. While walking back to my car, I saw myself through another mom’s eyes. I inhaled sharply as I realized that this morning, I look like just another lesbian. Meaning, stereotypically boyish/sloppy/casual.

I spend a fair amount of time talking about style and fashion, and challenging us butches to step it up a notch. Accordingly, I must turn myself in when I break all those rules, err, guidelines that I normally advocate.

Let me break it down, bottom to top:

1. Brown leather flip flops, by Reef. Bottle openers in the soles, natch.

2. Blue cotton cargo shorts, by Old Navy.

3. Grey t-shirt, slightly too big, untucked, by Life Is Good. Shudder. The cartoon on this gem is a tailgating Jake with a Jeep and a football. Add a rainbow flag to the Jeep and the football, and it’s a trifecta of the dyke stereotype.

4. Grey baseball cap covering up the morning flat mohawk, by Black Clover (albeit a strong hat worn stylishly askew).

5. No jewelry. No belt. No flair of any kind to tie it all together.

Yuck! Everything basically matches, of course, but the overall look? Not good. This is the lesbian equivalent of the straight mom dropping her kids off at school in her PJs. If you’ve ever dropped kids off, you have seen her. No makeup (or smeared eyeliner from the night before), hair in a scrunchy, PJ bottoms, tank top (probably pink), Uggs, and a Starbucks. Right?

For me, today’s outfit equals sweatpants, which I never leave the house in. Comfy, easy, practical, lazy. The furthest thing from stylish. Yes, sadly, today I contributed to the lesbian stereotype. I guess it happens sometimes.

But don’t worry – when I go out for drinks tonight, I will represent!

It’s butch to hold yourself accountable for how you look – even early in the morning. Be butch.


Blame It On The Henney

ImageI was at a fundraising party tonight for Lambda Legal (a fantastic organization for those of you who don’t know them, www.lambdalegal.org) and I had an interesting interaction with an older straight male attorney there. I’d been there a while and was comfortable. I chatted up a few different folks and was doing the proper business card exchange when up walks this old guy. A well-dressed man with tiny spectacles and a cognac in hand introduces himself to me, and then he says: “You have the best look of anyone here. Seriously.” I was flattered and thanked him. Right on!

Now, I’m feeling pretty awesome about my look and smiling both inside and out. Butch has got it! We talk a minute or two more and then he compliments me again. This time, he says I’m a “wise man.”

Scratch the record, stop the music. What the hell! I’m a wise man? Really? This guy has no idea I’m a woman? After several minutes of conversation? Wise? I’d like to think so. But, man? It’s not like I was at a Tea Party pep rally. Remember that this was a fundraiser for a group that fights for the rights of gays and big ol’ dykes. I was among my people! He should have been prepared. Maybe I should have corrected him, but I was really too shocked to do so. Can I blame it on the Henney? I don’t think so. He seemed like a seasoned drinker. Bully!

So, void the cool compliment. Obviously, this dude has no power of observation whatsoever. There could have been three other people at the party with cooler style than Butch, and he would have had no idea.

For those of you who are interested, the “look” was as follows:

  • Orange and blue french cuff dress shirt, Thomas PinkImage
  • Orange bow tie, Nordstrom
  • Black plain front cotton dress pants, Dockers (yes, black with blue, it works sometimes)
  • White belt, silver buckle, Adidas
  • All white Stan Smith’s tennis shoes, Adidas
  • Silver square cuff links, vintage – my grandfather’s
  • Silver screw head earrings (they look like Phillips head screws), Uncommon Goods

Oh, and cognac-holding old guy! I’ve got a big rack under this men’s dress shirt and no Adam’s apple above my bow tie. Pay attention, Jackass!

Butches, what do you do when someone refers to you as a man?

It’s butch to have style, even when old straight white guys think you’re a dude. Be Butch.


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