Love in the Time of Vodka

31 January 2008

Apparently, I’m a lesbian. I discovered this over Christmas, when I was informed by some old school friends, who had likewise been informed. It would seem I was the last to know this fairly significant piece of news. Well, well, I thought, who would’ve guessed it? All these years I’ve been wasting on men, when I actually fancied women all along! Crikey.

I did in fact attempt to be gay, very briefly, a few years ago. I don’t mean in that usual male-fantasy of two schoolgirls rampantly “experimenting”, but I was in a gift shop trying to find a decent Valentine’s effort for my then boyfriend, and realising how much easier life would be if I was making love to a woman instead. So I concentrated very hard (not easy when people are opening warbling Cliff Richard birthday cards around you) and plumbed the depths of my memory for an inkling of such desire. But there was nothing. Zilch. Nada.

So, by this it would seem I’m a lesbian doomed to fancy men. I’m not quite sure how my recent behaviour could possibly give rise to this particular rumour (as Mother said sweetly, it’s not as bad as the things people could be saying…) unless of course I’m in hyperactive denial. Yet perhaps my old friends are looking back to our innocent school days, and labouring under the impression that only a lesbian would date a gay. But then I have always denied any responsibility for the more recent sexual preferences of my first love. And I’m sure he makes a charming LGBT rep.

However, emotionally scarred as I may be from the unexpected union of my boyfriend and a rather troll-like guy from the store around the corner, I don’t think it quite sufficient provocation to start batting for the other team myself. Although admittedly it really was pretty tough when The Other Guy forwarded me copies of their “love e-mails” (ugh, these modern times) and told everyone of their walks in the woods until I was haunted by the opening lines of Teddy Bear’s Picnic wherever I went.

Of course, coming out of the closet would certainly make my celibacy vow somewhat easier to keep. Problem is, how does one come out of the closet without being inside it in the first place? I give up. Lesbian or no lesbian, celibacy vow or none—it’s men for me please.