I never had any suspicions about my sexuality before even though I found female celebrities to be very attractive. Some of my friends used to jokingly tell me that I must be a lesbian because of my female-celebrity fantasies. Recently, I began to realize that I was attracted not only to celebrities, but also to females I am acquainted with or have encountered. I haven’t had a relationship with a girl yet, so I’m not 100% sure if I’m bi or not. It’s something I want to try, but I don’t want to push it either. There was this girl in one of my classes who seemed interesting and cute. Naturally, I couldn’t do or say anything because I don’t really know anything about her, let alone her sexuality. I brushed the feeling off, but I still have the urge to get to know her more, even if not romantically.
Saying I was a tom boy in school doesn’t even come close, but the interesting thing to me now is why. Why was I a tomboy?
Before I tell you that, let me explain the how. We’re mostly talking about middle school here. When I say I was a tomboy I mean I was a bit “debshe” but not in looks, more like in behavior. I loved doing reckless things: sliding down the stairs, jumping off a wall… I always found little acts of personal endangerment that I could do.
Now if you can imagine the how, let me tell you the why. I did it for the attention…of the girls. Years before I would realize that a girl could actually have feelings for another girl, years before I had my first lesbian experience and years before I would even begin questioning my own feelings and behaviors, I yearned for the attention of girls.
It wasn’t until my last two years in school, when I was actually old enough to understand the concept of attraction that I realized I was attracted to girls. And it wasn’t until very recently, many years later, that I thought back to the stunts I’d pull back in those earlier school days in front of a group of girls and saw them for what they really were. I remembered how I’d feel when the girls would crowd me asking if I was alright, and telling me how cool my jump had been and I appreciated what my inner self had known all along. I’m just sorry it took my conscious mind so long to catch up.
I feel lonely, I feel lonely because I lost her. I lost the most and only important person in my life.
I hated her the first time I met her because I thought she was taking my best friend away from me. But only did i know she took me away, she took everything away; my heart… my focus… everything.
As soon as I got to know her we became best friends and i fell for her; I fell deeply.
But now I realise she was my best friend but I wasn’t hers. She didn’t confide in me any of her secrets, she even never asked or cared about me I guess. And I was to blinded by my love for her to see that. And once I realised it I stopped putting my heart and soul into our friendship and she never cared, never asked why, never asked about me.
And I had to let her go, let my heart die a little more every day that passes and we don’t talk.
I will never forget her. She was my first love even if she will never know that. She was my life and now that she’s gone I will never be the same. I’m drowning, I can’t feel anything… 300% numb even to hunger and I don’t know what to do.
She swivels on her chair to face her colleague on the nearby desk, and her skirt rides up just the teensiest bit revealing an extra fingers’ width of her thigh. Her blond curls fall effortlessly around her face and as she swivels she pushes one strand of her back, her hand moving swiftly to tuck it behind her left ear revealing a big smile when it no longer blocking the view.
She’s not looking at me, but I’m looking at her. I’m often looking at her. In the lull of the day when I don’t have that many a task to complete my mind often drifts away into make-believe worlds where I tell her I’m into her and she falls into my arms. I have watched a romantic movie too many I guess!
During the day we interact quite a lot. We have the friendly “how was your weekend chats” or the “sheesh that was a long meeting chats”. Occasionally when our work schedules permit we have our lunch breaks together. We’re friends at work, and it’s easy to make small talk or to complain about our bosses; all employees bond over such things. But each time we ride the elevator together alone, it gets a little harder for me to breathe. My stomach tenses up; butterflies they call it; on the verge of nausea I call it!
I observe her quite a lot, and her interactions with others. I’ve learned quite a great deal about her. I know what the perfect date would be if I were to take her out. I know what jokes will make her laugh and what makes her feel better when she’s upset. What I don’t know is whether or not she’s gay.
Really, it doesn’t matter if she’s gay or not, because we’re colleagues, and you don’t shit where you eat so to speak. I could either make a move, and oops she’s not gay, now we have to continue to work together pretending there is no awkwardness. Or I could make a move and hey, she is gay and wants to give it a go, but then you have the office romance drama. Or I could do nothing and just continue to daydream about making her moan like never before…
I’m not silly, I don’t think I’m in love with her or that I’m going to die without her. I just have the hugest crush. And although nothing may come of it, at least I’m never bored or sleepy at work.