Are you:
– poly?
– primarily partnered to a male engineer?
– aggressively queer?
– but have you also received gifts your loved ones purchased off of a registry for your wedding/commitment ceremony to said engineer?
– hot for trans guys?

You, my definite non-friend, are a Moen. Named after the poly, queer, entirely un-self-aware cartoonist who gave us both a spirited defense of both cuckolding and her fetishistic attraction to trans dudes. I’m not linking to her work.

The Moen is aware that she, as a woman, has been subject to coercive sexualized attention from men. She has to some degree articulated how trapped that sexualized attention makes her feel, how it limits her feeling of being authentic in the world, and thus how important it is to her sense of authenticity to broadcast her queerness at every opportunity.

The Moen cannot conceive that sexualized attention from her could create a similar experience. It’s liberation for her to be unnnervingly assertive about the demographics she’s attracted to. She calls herself a “chaser,” to your face, and it would never occur to her that you might translate that to “creep.” It also does not occur to her that you meet a version of her every other day- the hairstyles of the husband engineers vary somewhat, whether she’s broadcasting her queerness through her manicure or her bandana or her undercut varies somewhat. But what doesn’t vary is her self-confidence. She’s on a journey of getting exactly what she wants from the world- poly partners, engineer income, moral high ground.

You may have met versions of her again and again at a now closed lesbian bar. Why’d you go to the lesbian bar if you were calling yourself a man? Well perhaps because you were at a time in your life when everyone was always staring at you. On the train, giggling. On the sidewalk,wide-eyed and grabbing for their kid’s hand. When you don’t pass and you stand out and one of the points to the whole endeavor was to stop getting attention on the street, sometimes you just want to drink an old fashioned at a lesbian bar.

The Moen thinks you are there for her. Not to say she thinks you have an internal motivation to meet women who live in condos their husbands pay for. She doesn’t conceive of you as someone with internal motivations. No rather, the Moen believes people of your demographic are for her- like the tomatoes in the supermarket are, like the study abroad programs at her college were, like the condos at the nicest BART stop are. She is an open-minded, free-spirited, queer, sex-positive, smarter than all these boring straights, woman. Woman like her get to date people like you.

If you don’t see it that way she’s just got to arrange it so you see it. Maybe she needs to get you drunk. Maybe she needs to get you high. Maybe she needs to send you naked pics. Maybe she needs to inform you, when you tell her you don’t like receiving naked pics out of the blue, that that’s because you hate woman. Maybe she needs to get you to confide in her. Maybe she needs to get you over to the condo for a board game night. Maybe she needs to get her partner to pick up some of the slack in this process, because didn’t they commit to always be a team that Saturday in June when Aunt Karen gave them the bread machine?

Maybe someday she can write an article about poly parenting with you and the engineer. Maybe she can write about how she still has to challenge you on the toxic masculinity you picked up while everyone was staring at you. Maybe she can spin out all the musings on gender your relationship occasions into a memoir, and the book jacket cover will feature her perfect winged liner, cat eye glasses, and her full sleeve of delicate, expensive flower tattoos.

She may be basic af, but the accessory game is on point.

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This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

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