Sunday, 19 October 2014

Something Good

Some people are so sweet and try so hard, it makes me not like them a little bit.
Say you’re chatting with someone, getting along really well, talking about yourselves and learning about each other. Then the subject of relationships come up, and you mention your girlfriend.

This is where it can get weird.

Especially with femme ladies, it can be a bit of a shock. And I know they’re trying to be nice, but it kind of ticks me off when people go out of their way to try and make me feel comfortable about my sexuality.

I’m very comfortable already.

But they try anyway.

Bless them.

Phrases like, “Oh, well, I’m totally cool with the gay thing”

Just makes me think, “Oh you are totally not cool with the gay thing”.

Because I tend to think that people who are truly cool with it…just shut the hell up and carry on with the conversation.

None of this, “I’m totally for gay marriage!” or, “I have a gay friend!”

The best reaction I ever had was from my grown up friend L, who when she asked if I had anyone special and I said “yes, her name is R”, she shrugged and said “oh we’re going in that direction then. What does she study?”

Because sometimes it feels reassuring to have an acknowledgement that they’ve understood you’re gay…and then to have it never really brought up again.

It was because of this that I accidentally outed myself in the most ungraceful way to my Grandparents. When my Mother mentioned to them that I had a girlfriend, and they assumed she meant “a gal pal”. So when she assured me that everyone in the family know and I then emailed my Grandmother and asked if my partner, R, could come round for the family Christmas deal…she kind of freaked out.

So, to all the darling people who try so hard to show me that they’re allies.

That’s great.

Thanks very much.

I really appreciate your support in the continued fight for equality.

Now shut up and listen to my amusing anecdote about my girlfriend and her cat.


Thursday, 2 October 2014

Can't Control Myself

Well R and I attended our first meeting of our local LGBT group last week.

It was quite a…collection of people shall we say?

We didn’t arrive in the best of moods as the pub we were meeting at was far away and we took the longest and stupidest route to get to it. So what should have been a 20 minute stroll ended up taking over an hour with many breaks as we stopped to consult google maps and despair over how we could have walked in the wrong direction for a mile and not noticed.

I blame R.

So we finally arrived. Late. And took the only remaining seats available at the end of the table.

…There was a reason why those seats were empty.

So while we were treated to one lady’s life story of how her marriage of 7 years to a bloke broke down and now she was back home with her parents and her friends on the internet helped her through and God knows what she would have done without them….I gazed wistfully at the other end of the table where the younger, normal looking people were laughing and chatting.

R orchestrated a quick getaway after the crazy life story lady ran out of steam and we switched tables to go and sit with the other young whipper snappers, where we all drank too much and organised a night of gay bingo. 

But what was nice, was that there were 2 other long term lesbian couples there. So although I felt a little bad for the 1 single young gay guy surrounded by 3 lesbian couples, we all got on really well, drinks were had, numbers were exchanged. It was all good.

So as we were all preparing to leave, the leader of the group came and sat with us briefly to tell us that she was glad we had all made a “connection” and then regaled us with her tale of how she moved to our little city after a bad patch in her life. It was like anyone over the age of 35 in that group had a condition that made them instinctively share too much information and make everyone feel awkward.

I have such an awful feeling that I will be one of these people when I’m older. But hopefully I will have R to shove a glass of wine in my hand and whisper, “shhhh, shhhh, shut the fuck up darling”.

And I’ll sip my wine and let R do damage control over the widespread awkwardness I’ve caused.