Sunday, 15 July 2012

The Promised News

Do let me know if this is too personal, but I promised you news about the girl I wanted to ask out, so I thought I'd give up the goods.

She's on my course at college, and she is incredible. Physical: Pretty in an exotic way, not conventional, sexy as hell with lots of curves (the way I like my women), wavy long light brown hair, Danish accent, graceful with purpose. Person: Everyone loves her, it is nigh on impossible not to get on with her; gay; bubbly, giggly; competent, strong, intelligent, practical; overall indescribably attractive.

I thought she was straight when I met her - the gaydar didn't ping and she didn't come out to many people on the course for a long time. But I knew I was attracted to her. Now, I don't know about you, but the only times I've ever been attracted to women I think are straight generally work out that I'm wrong. But the 'door' (as I refer to it) stayed dutifully closed. Since the first time I fell in love with a woman when I thought she was straight, I am able to stop it happening again. I stop any feelings going being 'being initially attracted'. It's a subconscious mechanism to prevent the pain of unrequited love, a tool in my psychological arsenal that I thank God for.

But even another friend on the course mentioned they thought I fancied her even at that stage, when I first met her in the autumn. On learning of her queerness after Easter, the door swung open. But I was a coward, I flirted a little but always failed to make a move. I complained about this on the last night of the year, to a good friend in the Leavers who happens to be a lesbian, and she urged me on. We devised a line to use were I to pluck up the guts.

Later, we're dancing on the dance floor in the student bar, and I am filled with sudden fearlessness. I tap her on the shoulder, and lean in to shout that I'd like to talk to her. We wend our way through the crowd to a quieter stop near the bar. I put my hands round those delicious hips, and say (in reference to a point of conversation earlier in the day)

"You know it's National Kissing Day? Well, there's no one in the room I want to kiss but you."

So I get a little peck on the lips. "I mean it," I emphasise, and I get a full kiss. So I'm very happy at this point. But she just smiles and heads back onto the dance floor. I follow, puzzled, and when we're back in the throng, she shouts in my ear, "I don't understand why". Fair cop, I think, it was a little indirect. "I've liked you for a while now," I shout back. Bizarrely, the response is another "Why?". "Because you're incredible!" I shout, astonished.

And then that's the last I hear of it. So you know where this is heading. I met her the next day for about an hour after the Pride parade, and it was as if it had never happened. So I text her a few days later, and got a 'flattered, don't feel the same, just friends' reply, so at least it was cleared up.

So that's my latest lesbian drama. Next instalment, the cute young guy who has started coming to church!

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