I don’t like this thing I’ve been doing for the last year and a half, and the sixteen before that. This being single thing. I didn’t like myself in a relationship either, but at least I made her happy.
The day I came out of the closet was the same day I asked her to be my girlfriend. For the purpose of this story her name will be Diana. I liked Diana a lot better as a girl than as a person. I didn’t know her very well, but she liked the same web comics and went to the same school. She was only a year older than me, which was still practically a baby compared to the rest of the dating pool in my community college.
She was pretty cute, and our first kiss was in the snow. I walked her to the bus stop on the other side of campus, and I asked her not to go. She told me she would be in trouble with her parents if she didn’t, and I asked if I could kiss her. We were a lesbian greeting card, clad in our scarves, covered in snow, bidding farewell at the the bus-stop.
We broke up a little under month later, and I’ve been single ever since. I mean, there have been girls. Okay, there has been a girl. But she had enough energy for five. I kissed her in the summer under the roof of Diana’s porch. We will call her Eloise.
She had a boyfriend.
When I’m a woman, I won’t let little girls play with my heart, batting me around like the ball in table tennis. When I am a woman, I expect I will be alone most of the time.
Oh well.
“I expect I will be alone most of the time.” <—- very sad, very well written. This piece grabbed me; thanks for sharing.