When you first start dating someone even the simplest things can be fraught with indecision: What to wear, which bar to book, what to cook. We can all be strangely intolerant in those early days.
When you’re dating women there’s a pitifully small pool to choose from. I’m not even sure it can fairly be called a pool. It’s more of a pond or a puddle or a light drizzle or an egg cup full of water. Where’s my girlfriend? I think mournfully, prodding the egg cup.
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.
The Northerner is an absolute knockout: green eyes like springtime and warm russet locks – it’s like she’s been plucked straight from my lesbian dreams. I meet her outside the bar, slightly flustered after trotting from the tube and feel like I’ve been sucker punched in the stomach. Holy shit – it’s my future wife!
One of the tougher aspects of coming out in later life is realising that many of the dating rules as you knew them no longer apply. You can no longer lollop around in a bonnet waiting for a man to ask you out or make all the moves. You can’t rely on a man to pick the first date, pay the bill or do that gorgeous, end of night lean that makes your legs wibble.