In the midst of finals and job anxiety, I’ve been able to distract myself with a little bit of dyke drama.
When I first moved to Boston, I fell madly in love with a girl who was from Jersey, and a complete pain in the ass. She was so closeted that she couldn’t even say the word “lesbian.” We were just two girls hanging around, not up to anything, except when we were having sex.
She loved to eat oatmeal and toy with my affections. One minute I was brilliant, the next, I was boring. It drove me to distraction, and the whole thing ended badly. In fact, I ended up in rehab. Nearly fourteen years later, I am still sober.
I would see her every now then. She is feminine, and frankly, I figured she would end up married to a man.
Well, guess who just moved into the gayborhood with her new wife and baby. Yes! Jersey girl. She’s joined the local lesbian moms group, and I see her pushing her stroller out on the street.
I find this totally distressing, but I can’t get anyone interested in it. Jen’s too tired from breastfeeding in public (that’s kind of inside joke) and otherwise taking care of the baby. Virgin doesn’t care unless it involves a midget. Or a Lohan. At any rate, she doesn’t care.
Now, in addition to worry about getting a job, and completing my bar application, I am freaked out every time I walk down the street.
There are a few things I need to remember (1) I was here first (2) I’ve been married longer and (3) my kids are cuter.