Apr. 29th, 2017

sistawendy: (drama)
I took Brown Eyes to the opening of the Seattle Erotic Art Festival last night. But before I get into that, I had a little technological scare.

As I was checking my coat* and messing with my evening bag, out of the corner of my eye I noticed that I'd accidentally activated the send-handwriting-by-SMS mode on my iPhone, which I didn't know existed. I didn't think twice about it until about a minute later when it seemed that my phone was completely bricked; the screen wouldn't turn on. This was about twenty minutes before Brown Eyes was due to arrive, and I had visions of her texting me and getting miffed at my lack of response; it could have been worse, but still, suboptimal timing. I spent the rest of the night with a bricked phone, but I plugged it into the charger anyway. This morning it's right as rain.

But! Brown Eyes arrived without incident, we got in & got drinks, and like, totally saw all the art. Notable trends this year: a lot of works featuring children. Maybe it's a parent thing, but BE & I were both a little squicked. Also a relative abundance of depictions of cutty things (which freaks me out) and poky things (which doesn't, as much). They did have one retrospective section which had a couple of faves from SEAFs past. I got to show Brown Eyes a little of what she missed; she'd never been before. The eye candy of the ambulatory variety was as fine as ever - I wish I looked that good in latex - if not as densely packed as I've seen it in the past. I dunno; maybe everybody decided to go tonight instead of last night.

My favorite piece, at least for most of the night (Foreshadowing!) was "Obsession" by Olga Zavershinskaya. Lots of red in a beautifully and meticulously composed photo that speaks to, well, a lot of my desires. At $750, I seriously considered buying a print.

From the Dept. of Be Careful What You Wish For: There's a younger lady, K, whom I've met out & about. I confess to first approaching her because she appeals to my weakness for a certain physical type: she's from Iran, speaking of brown eyes. As my date & I were taking a load off for a minute, K firmly informed me that I needed to come to one of her regular get-togethers at her place, which usually coincide with either Lambert House or dinner with m'boy. She mentioned that she has a trans friend who just started to transition a few months ago, so I may go out of a sense of trans duty. K herself is... intense, perceptive, and probably straight. (She was there with a much older fella.) She has interesting things to say about the difference between how sexism manifests in the US (objectification) vs. Iran (paternalism). She says playing dumb works way better for women here than in Iran.

Toward the end of the evening, Brown Eyes and I had one more look at "Obsession" because I liked it so much, but then something occurred to me.
"Wait a minute. Those hands on her aren't hers, are they?" I asked Brown Eyes.
"Nope." The hands in question, resting on her rib cage with splayed fingers, looked distinctly masculine.
"Fuck that! That's heteronormative. I'm not buying it. I just talked myself out of spending $750!"

I hadn't slept well the night before, and informed BE that as much as I'd love for her to take advantage of me, I might be pretty useless despite my prior consumption of strong tea & yerba mate. She said it was OK, she'd had a tough day full of doctor's appointments. In fact, she'd been quiet the whole evening because, she said, she'd been preoccupied with her upcoming surgery. Aw. I hope I showed her a good time. I think she needed one.



*My leather jacket, to go with my Acres of Dead Cow outfit - over the knee Fluevogs, pencil skirt, bra, opera gloves, all black leather - as requested by Brown Eyes.

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