Text‭: ‬Danielle Spencer‭

Q is for questioning?

Being gay, or identifying as bi, queer, blah blah blah… isn’t a decision to be taken lightly. However, some people just can’t resist dipping their toe in the Sapphic pond only to disrupt waters and jump straight back out again.

Case Study One:
Dyke-a-licious ‘Dalia’ had been pining over me for years. In a moment or two of weakness I decided to put her out of her misery and give her a good old fashioned snog. A snog which I am very proud of indeed – she buckled at the knees and everything.
After this snog I sent her home and the next time I saw her whiLst exceptionally drunk, I offered her a little bump and grind – only to be turned down by what I had deemed to be a bit of a pitty shag… TURNED DOWN BY MY PITTY SHAG!!! Just deserts I hear you cry. But no, it turns out that at the tender age of 26 and identifying as gay, she has never actually slept with a woman! WTF?!
I couldn’t believe my ears. The woman is the personification of lesbianism. Artistic tortured soul, polo shirt, shoulder length unkempt hair, baggy jeans – you know what I’m saying.

Case Study Two:
Rene was an ex-model from a glamourous European country renowned for its fashion labels. We met on the dance floor at Les Peches, Hong Kong’s foremost lesbian rendezvous, and bonded over a shared love of dancing to ridiculous Katy Parry songs. Perhaps that should have been the first clue. Lulled into a false sense of security, and with the help of tequila courage, numbers were exchanged and plans to meet put into place.
Date one was not as planned, a meeting in a straight bar… she arrived with a “friend” in tow. But the conversation was saucy, and it appeared that all was not lost. Date two was much more promising, an afternoon picnic, just the two of us and a bottle of pinot grigio. Stories were swapped, a rapport was building, but not even a kiss on the cheek. By date four, still no action. Bemused and confused, a cheeky text message to meet the following Ladies night at one of Wan Chai’s less than salubrious nightspots was received. It seemed to time to seal the deal was near. Yet all was not as it appeared.
The music was loud, the drinks were free, and Rene was so deep in conversation with one of the charming specimens of manhood one sees in Wan Chai at 11pm on a school night, that she barely even greeted me. On my return from the bar, we exchange a frosty few words, before she disappeared. The next time I saw her, said charming specimen was busy acquainting himself with her tonsils, as she stared at me across the dance floor. After that incident, I found that 25 year old Rene was “struggling” with her sexuality and had yet to be physically intimate with another girl. I mean, REALLY. If you’re going to try before you buy, at least TRY before you buy!

Case Study Three:
I met Mo when I was 16 and she was 21. She was my first ‘realistic’ crush. We wrote songs together, drank together, hugged each other for unnecessarily long amounts of time. I can remember one tortured evening spent sat stationary in her car at the top of a hill in Liverpool, watching the city ebb and flow and repeatedly thinking – ‘pleasejustkissme pleasejustkissme pleasejustkissme pleasejustkissme pleasejustkissme pleasejustkissme pleasejustkissme pleasejustkissme pleasejustkissme pleasejustkissme pleasejustkissme pleasejustkissme pleasejustkissme pleasejustkissme’
Unfortunately, she never did kiss me when I wanted her too.
Some years later I went to stay with her in her new home and have a good catch up and girls night out. Having grown up, been engaged and gone through University, I can safely say that I was over my teenage crush and we were very good friends. I’d come out a while ago, but this was the first time I had seen her since my break-up with the man who I shall refer to as ‘penis head’.
We went out, we drank, we danced and then she slurred in my ear ‘kiss me’. I looked at her in astonishment and with a mounting fear. I didn’t want to kiss her and I told her that I didn’t. She wouldn’t take no for an answer and pounced on me and tried to drag me into a charming toilet cubicle that clearly hadn’t been cleaned properly in generations. I put my foot down and declined the offer. The next morning nothing was said. Later that day she told me – that she wasn’t gay and she was trying to make me feel better about my break-up. Whatever hunny, I almost choked, not on my own tonsils – on yours.

I’m a great believer in flexible sexuality – as long as it is flexible and you are willing to go the whole way and commit. Don’t leave someone hanging, it’s the worst kind of etiquette – otherwise, when you actually want them, they may not want you back.