Butch-Femme Dance I

It is a dance, isn't it? Butch and Femme. How we ever find each other sometimes seems like a miracle. Femmes are often so invisible. Femme-loving Butches are scarce. We all have our baggage to carry from past hurts and the fear of feeling that pain again. But the dance...... yes, the dance. For me, when I foray out onto the Butch-Femme dance floor, I usually wait a while. I look around and see what appears to be Femmes, but I am often not sure. Sometimes, a Femme will lock my gaze and strut on over and ask *me* to dance. Easy. I don't have to risk anything, especially my ego for a possible turn-down. But then the miracle of the Femme occurs; she asks me to dance but then I immediately lead. She smiles. I smile. We dance for a while. Sometimes to only one song. Other times for song after song that leads to years of the Butch-Femme dance.

Other times I am the one who must make the bold move. I usually test the waters. Throw a compliment or two her way. Will she appreciate merely politely or will there be a spark? Sometimes it takes a few tentative trial balloons before I get the courage to ask her to dance. Sometimes I feel really bold and I just *know* that a Femme will be a good dance partner for a while..... maybe longer.

So we dance. We measure ourselves against each other's expectations. We talk. We share. But not too much. To reveal too much might make us vulnerable. Who wants to be out on a limb all alone? I have been there. The limb usually cracks and I take a tumble. It hurts. But I get up and I'll live. A little smarter for the tumble.

And we dance some more. Bumping up against obstacles: potential rivals,ex-lovers, families, friends, employers. Dancing around. Spinning and stepping lightly and not so lightly as we try to not get boxed in and let the dance comes to a halt. When the dance is good, you can keep right on dancing when the music changes. When it isn't, when you get tired, the music pause is the cue for someone to go get a drink and not return.

That is the chance you take when you do the dance. You plunge out there and hope for the best, yet expect the worst somewhere in the back of your head. I do my best to remain true to me. I am hopelessly old fashioned in a *lot* of ways. I used to feel guilty about that. I don't anymore. I figure that if a Femme can't do or doesn't like my kind of dancing, she will not stick around for the long haul anyway. That is not her fault. It is not my fault. It just is. The Butch-Femme dance is about discovery. About finding rhythm. About learning if you, the Butch, and the Femme tap your feet to the same beat. Can we dance to the same rhythm? Will there be more than one dance?

I still like the Butch-Femme dance. Femmes, whether they are friends, lovers or ex-whatever, bring a music, rhythm, and beat to my life that I just can't get on my own. It is intoxicating and I can never get enough of it. I can never stop being amazed at the power, beauty and sensuality of any femme of any description. They all rock my world with their presence. And whether it is a friendly dance or one colored by passionate attraction, I love that you take my hand and follow me out to the dance floor.

Don't ever let the music stop.

Big Dog, 1996