Jul. 28th, 2013

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When it comes, will it come without warning 
Just as I'm picking my nose? 
Will it knock on my door in the morning, 
Or tread in the bus on my toes? 
Will it come like a change in the weather? 
Will its greeting be courteous or rough? 
Will it alter my life altogether? 

Suddenly my small hair-flowered head has been turned by a rather bona palone-omi. 

Following an extended courtship sparked by a chance meeting in Richmond Tea Rooms in April, I've fallen in love. J and I first met properly, a few years ago in San Francisco and as a result of us both taking very similar steps at the same time to start doing something a bit more grown up with our lives, fate has thrown us together once more. Over a pot of decaff tea and a non-monogamous dating conversation with our mutual Auntie Femme, a number of things caught my attention. Being a hot butch with a cheeky smile and a retro sense of style was very obvious. Discovering she was also a hot butch with an intriguing mind and a soft spot for femmes was just too good an opportunity to miss. I plucked up the courage to send her an email asking if she was interested in arranging a play date, explaining that with upcoming commitments, us living hundreds of miles apart and some surgery to recover from, it'd have to wait 6 weeks.

After squealing with excitement for a bit after getting a message back that she would also be interested in that, I started to think of her as a new and twinkly star in an expanding constellation of lovers and special types of friends. As an email, skype and text based courtship unfolded, this new potential play partner became someone who I developed a real crush on. The sort of person who I would excitedly stay up to skype with before bed on a school night, just because it was my birthday and I wanted to chat to her.* 

Everybody who I spoke to about this new exciting person in my life commented that I was clearly very smitten, and getting uncharacteristically girlish about the whole thing. I firmly maintained that it was all very trivial, choosing my well-worn comfort zone of optimistic denial.

Finally, the spring blossoms fell away and the long awaited date weekend came around. June and the first warm weeks of summer, after a very long winter. I was simultaneously excited and scared in case I'd allowed myself to get all besotted with someone who was just a reflection of what a person could be. The next morning while mincing down the road to the train station together, sharing a celebratory breakfast of strawberries and beaming grins, something told me that my instincts were right. By the end of the weekend walking together around the David Bowie exhibition, I had an overwhelming urge to not be physically parted from her. Amid the fragments and relics of past glamour and camp I'd found a diamond in the rhinestones. 

All attempts at maintaining a facade of cool detachment were futile. For the first time in quite a while I let loose all the Cole Porter lyriced confessions of complete adoration. It's still very clear that I've gotten her under my skin. Perhaps with patience and luck she could be the one who'd be so nice to come home to. I know she's someone who'd be so easy to love.

*Well she had sent a combination of a birthday card of a 1960s black and white shot of a Dalek in front of a London routemaster, a bar of chocolate, and a copy of a well-loved novel with a dedication written in the cover. She clearly meant business.


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October 2014


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