Thursday, 29 November 2012

Something To Talk About

A few weeks ago, I was reminiscing with my friend, Y, about all of the grama over our years at Uni. We look back on it now with a fond sort of nostalgia, like how you consider a childhood photo of you doing something really embarrassing.

I do not miss the drama of my first year in Uni.

But R dragged me into it! It wasn’t my fault!

Moving along…

Y and I were talking about the past grama and how we’re both now in stable, monogamous, long-term relationships.

Then we realised….we were old.

A few days before this, I had actually heard one of the lesbian freshers talking about how there was “soooo much lesbian drama”.

….there is?

There’s drama this year?



I know nothing of this drama!

Could it be that this year I will truly stay grama free? Will my life finally be dull and routine?

Of course part of me rejoices my finally throwing off my shackles of drama, but I think I will miss the complexities of it. I won’t miss being a part of it…God no. But just observing and watching it unfold.

So this year, the grama is continuing on its merry way while I sit with my knitting and documentaries. 

I do feel a little sad in a way. The young, crazy, newly-out lesbian fresher part of me is gone. A sad, but true fact. When R and I went out one night and woke up with immeasurable hangovers the next day, we decided that the majority of the time, the fun we have drinking is not proportional nor worth the following day’s hangover.

See what I mean?

I’m old. I’m out of the loop. I’m like one of those awkward parents who says “wicked” or “bitchin’”.

I know I promised you my eavesdropping of the new lesbian drama in my corner of the universe. But I’m afraid I’ve let you down.

It’s likely that you will have to bear with more odd ramblings of mine and R’s complacent lives.

My bad…


Wednesday, 14 November 2012

If My Heart Was A House

So I don’t know if this is weird or not...but I’ve never lived by myself.

It’s nothing to do with not wanting to or having some odd aversion to spending time by myself, it’s just that the opportunity never occurred.

I lived with my parents and 3 siblings (very crowded), then went on a gap year where I lived with 12 other people (only 2 bathrooms), then I moved to Uni and lived in halls (full entirely of boys) then moved into a house with R, B1 and B2 (the messiest house of them all), and now it’s just me and R for the foreseeable future.

In fact, me and R were almost like the ultimate lesbians in that we’d actually already organised living together (albeit with B1 and B2) before we’d even hooked up.

But is this a bad thing? Have I missed out on some major part of my life where I’m meant to live alone and “discover myself”? The idea of living alone does kind of appeal to me. When R and I had just gotten together, it was nice to have a "your place or mine?" moment as we came back from a night out. It was exciting to start leaving little things like a pair of pyjamas in her room and have her invite me to leave my toothbrush. I like the idea of being able to wallow in my terrible habits and tell myself they're "quirks" as I move a month worth of dirty tea cups into the kitchen to wash them. 

But I've been told many times by as many people, that you can't move "backwards" in a relationship...whatever that means. But I really do think that I've become far too accustomed to R's presence to even seriously consider getting my own place. Plus, I don't fancy having to pay a whole flat's rent alone. It's hard enough to make ends meet splitting the rent 2 ways.

I’m not even entirely sure that I would enjoy living by myself. I have this horrible experience every time I’m on my way back from the bathroom when my bladder has woken me up in the middle of the night, and my brain decides it want to relive the scariest moments of every horror movie I’ve ever watched. (Most recently, the Grudge)

I wasn't scared when I watched it...but it plays on your mind.
Will I miss it? Will I one day wake up and realise that I want “space”? That I want time to be free and indulge all my horrible habits?

I’m thinking probably not.

If I didn’t have R, the washing up would never be done, my shoes would slowly accumulate into a small mountain in the hallway and I would have to make my own cups of tea.

Also it is likely that R would starve, she would never have a dry towel and would possibly whimper into oblivion if I wasn't there to coddle her when she was sick. 

So for now, I feel settled with my lady.

And I really…really hate washing up.


Monday, 5 November 2012


Over here in England it's Guy Fawkes Night.

It’s a fun night. We light bonfires, set off a horrendous amount of fireworks and eat jacket potatoes in celebration of a 400 year old failed terrorist plot.


R and I went to our local bonfire night a few nights ago.

It’s always an impressive sight, with a bonfire the size of a small house, a little funfair and impossible carnival games like coconut-shy.

This year was much improved from last year, where the wind was blowing in the unfortunate direction that allowed embers of the ridiculously huge bonfire to wash all over the faces in the crowd and left me with a macho looking wound across my eye for a week.

The bonfire was smaller this year. They obviously learnt from their mistake. But not everything was improved upon last year. There was still the awfully cheesy music with hits like “relight my fire” and the awful but hilarious announcer trying to entice people to buy food in the most monotonic voice you can imagine.

But at this lovely fair of fun and fire, I was oddly worried about PDA. There were a lot of children, ergo, a lot of parents. I spent the majority of the night waiting for some obnoxious Mother telling me to stop being disgusting and promoting the gay agenda…or whatever it is that homophobic Mothers worry about.

But that never happened.
There was one fantastically horrible cliché moment when R and I kissed and fireworks went off in the background. It was vom-worthy.

At one point, as we were watching the effigy of Guy Fawkes burn (we’re such a lovely country), I spied another lesbian couple. Being the weird femme who craves recognition, I of course instantly latched myself onto R and made a great show of being a couple.
 Later on, there was an innocent pair of ladies with a small child. Again, I instantly presumed they were lesbians. The coupley act began again.

See, me and R live in a reasonably small city where the gay scene is about as active as a limp noodle. This apparently is having the effect of me seeing lesbian mirages…Anyone showing even the slightest lady lovin’ tendencies, to me, is an instant lesbian.

I do apologise for my stereotypical view.

As a huge massive flowery femme myself, I should know better than anyone that lesbians aren’t always all undercuts and plaid.
But my gaydar is fairly shitty and until I get an upgrade, I will continue throwing myself at R while in the presence of suspected gays.