Oh my. Oh no she didn't. Did Courtenay Semel, really say "I'd like  to say that I'm kind of like the Don Juan of the lesbian world?" I just read it in a magazine, so it must be true. But if there were such a thing as a lesbian Don Juan, wouldn't she be a Dona Juana? Unless Semel is trans, but then why is she referring to herself as a lesbian? All this time I thought I had a pretty sophisticated understanding of lesbian gender, and then I get thrown off track by a woman who brags about having dated Tila Tequila. And on that note, who brags about having dated Tila "naked online meltdown" Tequila?

I don't normally write about bizarre happenings amongst D-list, quasi-lesbians, because I don't normally care. I'd rather just talk about pussy shaving and healthcare reform. But I woke up this morning to a heap of crazy, and I can't stop staring. Can someone get me some Dramamine? I'm a little woozy.

This cognitive dissonance is giving me vertigo, which in turn is making me want to barf all over my friend Kathleen's house (where I am as I'm writing this). And barfing here would be bad, because Kathleen runs The Femme Porn Tour, and like you'd expect from a femme who runs something called The Femme Porn Tour, her entire apartment is covered in frilly, diaphanous lingerie and marabou trimmed mules. I'm pretty sure barf isn't the kind of bodily fluid that's supposed to be on that stuff.

Semel also told People magazine, "I'm just finally happy to have a voice and set the record straight. And that's there's more to me than who I've allegedly slept with!" Eh, that's not really true. We're all kind of the sum of our exes. They all leave something, a mark or a sign of growth, or in the case of Tila Tequila, possibly an STD.

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I talk to most of my exes and I'm really good friends with some of them. And I can see how each relationship I've been in has either taught me something, made me grow, or in some cases wounded me a little and left some baggage behind.

Some relationships changed my taste in music, broadened my love of art and literature and taught me about film. One in particular started me down to road to super-femme. Upgrading my heels from three inches to four and a half, tightening my skirts, improving my push-up bras, and gradually filling my knickers' drawer with smaller and smaller under things. Clearly I was there already or else the positive reinforcement wouldn't have stuck so easily. But she brought that out in me.

I know I helped bring out parts of her as well. As I femmed up she became more confident about her own gender, finding a comfortable space somewhere along the masculinity scale and finally owning it in a way that made her feel good about herself. I'd never ask anyone to change. And if someone asked me to I'd most likely move on. But each lover I've had has informed a little bit of my identity, leaving traces of themselves.

Granted this has nothing to do with the train wreck of mainstream bisexuals doing self-aggrandizing interviews and reality TV stars having psychotic breaks. I just felt like I should leave you on a slightly higher note.

Read more of Diana's musings.

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