What’s the female equivalent of an aubergine emoji??
Getting into bed, side by side, a football field of space between us like two old nuns in a nunnery, was not exactly how I had envisioned the night ending. The evening had started with what I was pretty sure was a DATE date, with a girl from my office. Let’s call her, Jemma. She had freckles and was pretty in a very effortless kinda way, wore lots of Hawaiian shirts and was generally just a lot cooler than I was. As soon as we met, we got on effortlessly. Shared a dryyy ass sense of humour, ripping into the customer service emails we’d get on the daily, and shared an equally trashy questionable taste in music. I was happy to just have a friend in the office. But, wellll, there were vibes guys. Our first “date” ended up being office drinks in the pub that we’d somehow “forgotten” to invite everybody else to. (Wink wink emoji PAPAYA (?) emoji) Sidebar – what’s the aubergine emoji equivalent for ladies?? Plz do get in touch if you know.
So, here’s the thing about being a QuEeR girl you spend honestly about 80% of your life wondering, okay is this a new FrIeNd or are we going to snog at the end of this COFFEE/ HANG OUT/ LONG LUNCH/ ACCIDENTAL SLEEPOVER. Because really, you never know until you know. Surreptitiously bringing up that you’re into girls is a pretty sure fire way of at least assessing if you’re both on the same page attraction wise, but even then it can feel like a weird card game, where half the stack is missing and the other half has been set on fire. You heteros don’t know how easy you’ve got it.
you spend honestly about 80% of your life wondering, okay is this a new FrIeNd or are we going to snog at the end of this COFFEE/ HANG OUT/ LONG LUNCH/ ACCIDENTAL SLEEPOVER.
Back to Jemma. I was pretty sure it was a date because after our first “accidental office drinks where no one else was invited haha x”, she’d initiated going for DIM SUM on a Friday night. The ultimate romantic cuisine of choice, of course. I’d dressed for the occasion, think a semi scandalous top with a c-h-i-l-l shirt over the top to keep it cajj and enough makeup to knock out a small blood hound and you’re just about there. I was late, after missing a train and two buses, so I was SWEATY. Nervous and sweaty. You know when you’re on your way to a date and you’re wondering what version of yourself you were the last time you hung out? Whether you’d actually fully been yourself or if you were a slightly more filtered, COOLER version, but you can’t actually remember so are trying to piece together who you think you might have been the last time you saw each other but before you arrive and actually have to be yourself?! Is this the kind of chill shit that occupies other people’s brains, or nah?
The dim sum was delightful, the conversation was flowing and I felt pretty confident it was indeed a date. But then, at our second stop for the night – a swanky cocktail bar – I wasn’t so sure…. Called something like LEGEND. It was swanky but in a deeply tacky way. The maître d had sat us by the front entrance, virtually on the road, bang next to the bouncer and a bottle of hand sani. It wasn’t exactly the height of rómance. No cosy booth in a low lit part of the bar where we could shamelessly make out, no no, it was high chairs and sat a solid 5 feet away from each other. And this is when she started talking about the girl she was seeing. I desperately tried to control my expression, so I wouldn’t just look like I was having a small seizure. The girl you are WHO?! WHAT is happening. I had a steady sinking feeling in my stomach, that awful moment when you know you like someone, because hearing them talk about someone else makes you feel like a sad, heavy, little stone. I immediately started sifting through the rest of the night’s conversation to look for clues and rapidly had to somehow pivot into being the “best friend” giving her life advice on her lady problems. And somehow ignore the fact that I was SUPPOSED to be the current lady in question.
I desperately tried to control my expression, so I wouldn’t just look like I was having a small seizure.
Cut to my flat. 3AM, showing each other embarrassing content from our childhoods. Me – a cappella music videos, her – actually quite good gymnastic routines and inevitably, of course sharing our old old tumblr accounts. Turns out, we both had a LOT of feelings growing up. By this stage, I was certain there were vibes. But after lending her a pair of trackies which flooded her 5ft nothing frame, we got into bed without so much as a kiss on the forehead, rolled over and I turned out the light feeling thoroughly confused and more than a little frustrated. Stay tuned to find out what happened on our next non date, date next time ….