*I haven’t been able to post about M since she started reading my blog. I have many in drafts, but keep getting stuck. I thought going back to the beginning would help…*
Alright, maybe a part of me always knew I wasn’t straight. I spent a lot of time justifying things when I was younger.
*Don’t all girls watch girl-on-girl porn? Who among us doesn’t make out with their friends when they’re drunk? We’ve all masturbated next to our female friend while watching porn and then make out, right?*
If I’m being honest, I had even fooled around with a couple of girls. I just still thought of myself as straight.
Until her.
I talk about M like she was a wildcard. She was, but she was fucking smart too. I studied my ass off and she kept up with me in our honors program without even trying. I liked her immediately and we hung out a lot because our classes overlapped, but she was the first woman I knew who was openly gay and not ashamed of it.
As a result, I didn’t bring her around my friends. I didn’t think they’d “get” her. Also, I was afraid they’d pick up I had a crush on her.
*It was the 2000s. Shit was complicated.*
M loved sex and talked about it often. She made sex jokes and openly flirted with me. She also often told me she would never fuck anyone who liked dick, which was apparently lucky for me, because she would “destroy me.”
*She did.*
She made jokes about touching herself and sometimes flirted with men just so she could reject them. She hated most people, but somehow attracted them to her anyway. She loved comic books, children, and cursed like a sailor. She was never dressed remotely appropriately and sometimes wore these very sexy dark glasses that framed her hazel eyes.
I thought about her a lot when we weren’t together.
I had a male friend who liked men. I once tagged along with him to the unofficial queer house just off campus for a party. I walked in and immediately my eyes went to the beautiful creature dancing on the table.
M is ethnically ambiguous with hair down to her waist. Her body is almost annoyingly perfect. She has a very tiny waist and huge boobs. She liked to wear very, very revealing clothing.
Leather.
She was *always* in leather. That night she was in a leather skirt and red tank top with boots that went above her knees. Her hair was loose and wild and she was dancing with a hand in the air, by herself on a table.
Even in a room full of gay men, eyes were on her.
*Upon reflection, I think her overtly sexual nature was a rebellion in itself. I love her for that.*
She caught my eyes and did a double take before she jumped off the table and came to kiss the guy who brought me. “You brought a straight girl,” she said coldly as she looked me up and down.
“Yeah!” My friend said. “This is V. She’s-“
“-I know who she is. What are you doing here, Viola?”
“At the party?”
“In this house? You’re straight, right?”
“Are we gatekeeping now?” My friend asked as he steered us to get drinks.
“I can leave,” I offered.
“No, no. I just think it’s weird because you’re so straight… Right?”
