dating, humour, lesbian
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5. Mating rituals

After my first few unsuccessful attempts to meet women in bars, I’m dubious as to whether it’s even possible to meet people in real life anymore or if I’ll eventually be telling my kids that “mummy met mummy on a seedy dating app.” So when my token lesbian friend invites me to a night for gay women I think – what the hell, let’s give it another whirl.

I arrive at a warehouse with hip hop blaring through the open door and scope out my mate and her friends. Straight away I realise I’ve come horribly overdressed in my sequinned mini and sheer black top whilst everyone else is relaxed in jeans and trainers.

“Hey,” I say, tugging awkwardly at my mini, which shifts down a fraction of a millimetre before resting stubbornly at crotch level.

Introductions made, my friend steers me to the bar and fills me in on the group.

“So, ____ is with ___ and ____is with ____ although her girlfriend’s in Australia.”

“Why is everyone in a relationship?! This is London for God’s sake, not the shires!”

She snorts as I swipe my drink and march into the cold night air for a smoke and a sulk. There’s a man there sucking on a roll up and we chat for a few minutes.

“So, can I give you my number? Maybe we could do something sometime?”

I’m in a club with wall-to-wall muff and a bloody straight guy asks me out! Go figure.

“Nah” I say, tossing my cigarette on the floor and mooching back inside where a few women are warming up the dancefloor to R Kelly’s Bump ‘n’ Grind.

During the night I watch with interest to see how girls chat each other up. The few times I’ve tried to make conversation with a woman she’s either been in a relationship or has stalked off in silence. Now I see a woman dance up next to a pretty blond who, clocking her admirer, moves a little bit closer. Slowly they inch towards each other, every hip dip and wriggle bringing them closer together until they’re finally facing each other.

A-ha! I need to dance at the lesbians!  

I try the dancing trick on several women but no joy. It’s pushing 4am and I’m beginning to give up hope when a stunning mixed race girl gives me a shy smile and dances up next to me. It’s working! I’m like a bird of paradise calling to her mate!

We kiss, swaying gently with the music until we pull apart and she wanders off to find her friends.

I swagger up to my mate who’s propping up the bar:

“I TOUCHED HER BOOB,” I bellow triumphantly.

“Well done,” she says, patting me on the head. “What’s her name?”

“Erm, I don’t know.”

“Where does she live?

“I’m not sure.”

“Did you get her number?”

“Um, no.”

“That’s great. You just keep dancing up next to women and touching their boobs and maybe one day one of them will fall in love with you.”

“Good point.”

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