Nothing More Flattering Than Someone Saying "oh Don't Get Her Going" In Reference To You When A Topic

Dressing as a character that gives me gender envy for halloween makes me feel so powerful!

Tonight I am the king of gender!

due to inflation you must answer my riddles five

Everyone I give my knitting to carries a piece of me around with them

Holy shit

ppl in the age of cell phones: fucking up their necks

ppl in the age of books: fucking up their necks

ppl in the age of textile art: fucking up their necks

ppl in the age of picking lice: fucking up their necks

ppl in the age of cooking: fucking up their necks

Spam me with boops, and I will boop you back!

I love tumblr!

i really hate coming out but still want my extended family to know, so my mother took it upon herself to invent the game “guess which one of my kids is gay.”

the rules are simple.

sit down with uncle so-and-so

he says something about gay people in passing

my mom says “there’s a gay person at this table right now. guess which of my kids it is!

he looks frantically between the three of us trying to figure out if she’s joking or not and trying desperately not to offend anyone but also she won’t continue with the conversation unless he makes a guess so he has to make a guess

we all enjoy his discomfort immensely

these buttons from the dying party city go so hard

I'm knitting in the corner at a party

and guys my age stop by to tell me I remind them of their aunt, of their grandmother. This is a compliment and I take it as such. They confess to having tried crochet once, and I smile. They get back in line for the bathroom.

I'm knitting in the corner at a party and a queer woman sits on the floor next to me, arranges her skirt, and smiles up at me. (I try not to blush.) She asks me all the questions on her mind about my craft and I answer them, hands still moving. We swap yarn sources. She doesn't stay, but she knows where to find me.

I'm knitting in the corner at a party and everyone knows where to find me when they need a minute, when socializing is too much and the music is too loud and they need to catch their breath. They pretend to be checking in on me, which is sweet, but I can see the relief in their eyes the moment they stop performing for a house full of people. They sit down and tell me things and all the while they never take their eyes off my hands.

The party has wound down and I'm still knitting and the hosts, two guys in their twenties, thank me for "helping to curate the vibe." I had no idea that's what I was doing. I leave the party having forgotten to drink anything and without that woman's number but with many rows added to my top-down raglan sweater. I call it a night, and a good one.