you were smoking me weren't you, between your yellow fingers

Today is Valentine's Day. I will say that right now, at this point in my life, I hate Valentine's Day. I will not go so far as to say I hate Valentine's Day so much that I would use it as an opportunity to sabotage any relationship I am in. That is the difference between me and fucked-up people. My feelings are temporary due to a raw little heart, which will hopefully heal up just fine with time.

Speaking of hearts, mine got nicked a bit last night in a weird way, which I hate, of course. I think I was just tired and drained from two nights in a row of interacting with people I don't know, which I also hate. Because I still, even now, feel my chest clench in panic when I'm on my way to Deaf events. The old me would just not have gone. Cried about it. New me goes but still freezes up. I can't be hard on myself about it, even if I fail Deaf Culture for it. I am only me. I can't be more or less. Plus it will will will get easier. I will be able to engage fully instead of sitting on the fringes, at some point. Part of it was there were less people that I know there than usual.

The lesbian from my class came, and that was cool. She went to Deaf, Deaf World last semester, the early one. I told her I went to the later one and so did my ex and it was terribly awkward. I asked her if that's where I remembered her from and then she informed me that actually I helped her with her laptop once (which I have zero recollection of at all). She also said she went home and told her girlfriend "I think a gay girl helped me today." Which was affirmed when she saw the button on my bag the first day of class.

Then there was this girl who came who I ended up talking to for more than an hour. She was totally straight though (I think). She read straight, especially because I was attracted to her. Because I am attracted to straight girls. Cute girls. Girls. God. There are just so goddamned many of them it's hard not to like some of them. Anyway. We were talking and she told me my name was beautiful and "rare nowadays" and touched my arm repeatedly and I think it's bullshit because if she were a lesbian those would totally be come-ons. But she's just a cute straight girl from what I could read of her. I was attempting to feel her out, "Did you move here by yourself?" and so on, but the conversation never quite got there. But I hate that shit. I can't just hit on someone. I do not chase straight girls. I don't hit on them. I'm paranoid about it. Probably because I don't want to be the creepy predatory dyke who goes after all the innocent vulnerable girls. (Wow. I have self-image issues, don't I? This is why I think I need to be in therapy.)

And girls are socialized to be flirtatious, anyway. Straight girls, if they know I'm a lesbian, flirt with me more than they would if they thought I was straight. For them I am probably a safe person with whom they can act out their latent homosexual feelings a bit. (Seriously.) They immediately categorize me as "harmless" because I'm shyish, nice, and a little awkward. Whatever. But. I'm still calling bullshit on it.

Fucking context, though, right? Christ. If you don't know the context then you're pretty much fucked.

Blerg.