Everyone, I need to tell you something. I’m a lesbian. A card-carrying, awesome hair-wearing, Tracy Grimshaw adoring lesbian. To be honest, I couldn’t hide it if I tried. Once a homeless man yelled out at me in West End ‘Hey lesbian!’ as I walked past him and I couldn’t do anything but agree with him. True story.
To be honest, the great thing about being a lesbian is pretty much everything. I get to wear comfy shoes all the time; have a tool box without giggling about it; experiment endlessly with my hair and ogle Katy Perry shamelessly at the Super Bowl.
I get to wear whatever I like; watch tv shows like ‘The L Word’ and wish that’s how life really was and creep people out by saying Sylvester Stallone is my man crush. True love never dies.
I also get to discuss ‘gay issues’ at length, ensuring I make people uncomfortable enough to at least consider not voting for the LNP. I also enjoy making straight couples feel bad, for kicks, about being engaged by saying stuff like ‘Oh it must be nice to be allowed to get married!’
There’s a downside though. There’s the questions. Loads and loads of questions. I’m not even exaggerating. I’ve compiled a list of some of these below.
Do you think I’m gay because one time….?
So you pashed some bird in high school. So what? You also enjoyed ogling Katy Perry at the Super Bowl. So what? I don’t care. I don’t know if you’re gay because you think you’d sleep with Nicole Kidman if she offered. I don’t have the answers you need because I just don’t care.