The Lesbian Switch

Sapphic First Dates #5

The knowledge flicked fast like a light switch. It was witchcraft. Our shower soft limbs tangled in urgent writhing. Thoughts, for once, quiet. Even with the years of distance between then and now I can feel the heat of the fire that blazed in my mind as we danced at the edge of my bed. Too hungry to make it under the covers. Too quickly, we must step back.

The glow of sapphic sex

There was once a girl who thought she was bi, for all of her adult life and many years of her teens. She had dated men and gone on dates with women. She was somewhat recently single. She was fresh out of lockdown and excited to date only women. Not because she wasn’t bi but because she just didn’t think she could ever date another man...
And while this may seem to the trained eye as very much lesbian behaviour it is hard to disentangle yourself from years of compulsory heterosexuality and a history with men to find that the answer reads lesbian, even if people have suggested it to you.
So here we are on a sunny Friday in Sydney, picnicking in the botanic gardens in the first get staff get together in over a year and everyone is curious about what I, the youngest and most free of the group is doing tonight. A loaded question because I have a date. With a girl. Which meant taking on the task of coming out to colleagues who thought you were straight. The nail biting correction of pronouns from he to she and having all those strange questions poked at you “oh I never knew you liked women!”
“is this your first date with a girl?”
“I never would have guessed you like girls”
“your brave for telling us!”
Which to be fair is pretty good compared to what I could have received, the key here though was knowing I would be safe because our CEO was a gay man. None the less feels awkward and strange and uncomfortable. With the grilling is over I excused myself to go home and get ready for the date.

She was a scientist and we had connected over our shared bisexual confusion. She was living the life I had just exited - dating a man but with the freedom to explore her bisexuality through dating women. We matched on a dating app and we meeting at a natural wine bar (GAY) neither of us had been to. She was wearing heels but was still so much shorter than me, her cropped reddish brown head coming to my chin when we hugged upon meeting. There was no immediate spark or lustful yearning. It was a connection based on our shared experiences and our shared shyness around women. And uh yuh she was also gorgeous and smart and kind and funny and just everything that women are. And I didn’t need to text anyone to tell them where I was going in case I went missing. And we bonded over boyfriends and art and it was easy.
We chatted through two glasses of wine while I started wondering whether she would leave her boyfriend through this exploration like I had left mine. It felt a lot like she would. Their relationship felt rocky from my outside seat. She didn’t talk about him with the sort of love I expected of a relationship that would last. They did though last for many more years beyond that.
As the night grew dark and we had ordered everything we wanted from the bar we were at we decided to catch the bus closer to my house. Not to my house. But a few streets away. At this point were both quite drunk. Not sloppy but uninhibited. Braver. The newness of dating women was a hurdle we were standing flush against. Too shy to make moves sober we drew on the drink to build ourselves up. We took a shot at a divey little pub. Maybe we kissed a little in a dark corner while a band played too loud for us to talk. But we were restless. So we left and walked up the street to another bar. Had a drink there. Left and walked a little closer to my house, but stopped again. Not yet brave enough to make it to a private place. Now we were approaching that riotous sort of drunk where everything is golden and fun. Now we were holding hands walking down the street. Now we were making it to my door. Now she was meeting Salami and I was doing a little house tour and now we were kissing in the shower and now we pressed against each other and the shower was only getting in our way. And so we half fucked down the short corridor to my room where the lights were low and warm and I was hypnotised by her body around mine. By the taste of her and the feel of her. It was a desperate crush of pulling, sliding hands across each unknown expanse of a body. Everything was exploding into perfect clarity because this is what sex was supposed to feel like. Like there was nothing in the world but our bodies.

The next morning I would unfurl the knowledge that I am a lesbian. It would glitter and glow, fresh moth wings from a caterpillar who felt wrong all her life only to find she was only waiting for the right moment to discover the truth of her oddity and to not find it so odd anymore. I can’t tell you of the elation I felt claiming that title.

art by Caroline Jamhour