Wishful thinking

“The thing is I’m not actually 100% sure she’s gay.”



I like to think of myself as fairly rational in matters of the heart but as soon as I learn the Swiss is coming to London, all bets are off. I whip out my heart, dust it down, give it a polish and wait to offer it up to her on a silver platter. 

 

During those few weeks before she comes I spend every evening with her: intimate suppers late into the night; lazy breakfasts late into the day. She nicks chips off my plate; I sneak sips of her coke. 

 

Over drinks a wise friend counsels me. 

 

“I know you,” she says sternly. “Don’t. Get. Carried. Away. Or you’ll end up being disappointed when she’s not what you imagined.”

 

“No, no,” I nod absentmindedly as we cheerily wave our firstborn off to school.

 

I know I’m in dangerous territory but I can’t help myself. Everyone says your first woman – whether it’s a night, a kiss or just a look – is special. I’ve met many beautiful, smart, funny, accomplished women in my time and yet she was the only one to make me think that maybe there was something missing in my life. She’s warm, funny, curious and kind; being with her is like easing your aching muscles into a hot spring on a chilly winter’s day.

 

“Maybe she’s the one!” a friend exclaims over dinner. 

 

“Maybe… The thing is I’m not actually 100% sure she’s gay...”

 

“Well, how sure are you?”

 

“Like, 5%...?”

 

“Why do you think she’s gay then?”

 

“Because when we were in the sea she undid my bikini top.”

 

“Great. And that’s all you’re basing this on?”

 

“Bugger off.”

 

We’ve arranged to meet for a night out with two mutual friend and as the fateful day draws closer I brief them on the plans for the evening.

 

“Right ladies, this is a military operation so pay attention. I need AT LEAST AN HOUR alone with her so don’t even think about showing up before 7. If I say ‘I think we need another round’ that’s your cue to go to the bar. Stay there for at least 20 minutes. If things look like they’re going well just… you know… leave for a bit. If she starts talking to anyone else TAKE THE BASTARDS DOWN.”

 

 “Jeez Louise, I hope she’s bloody gay after all this.”

 

“So do I sweetheart, so do I.”  

 

 

Catch up with past Girl Meets Girl columns here and visit the official blog at girlmeetsgirl.co.uk.

 

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