This is an extract from Then There Was Her by Sophie Cachia.

I was running late. Again.

At almost 30, you’d think I’d have learnt by now how to manage my time a little better... But no, I still insisted on challenging myself to get anywhere and everywhere in the shortest amount of time possible.

Sigh.

Only eight weeks earlier, I’d given birth to my second baby – my daughter, Florence – and I was on my way to one of my first ‘working’ events since she’d arrived, as a guest speaker on an AFL panel. (I’ve always worked hard, but let me tell you, dolling yourself up for a guest speaking appearance while you still have stitches in your fanny was new territory for me.)

Listen to Mia Freedman's full interview with Sophie Cachia on the No Filter podcast below. Post continues after audio.

It was early 2017, the league’s inaugural season was about to kick off and I’d been invited to speak because I’d grown up in a pretty well-known footy family, the Shaw family, and am a vocal advocate for female representation in sport.

My dad had always worked in the AFL professionally as both a player and coach with Fitzroy, Essendon and Adelaide Football Clubs, as well in senior management at Fremantle FC – so I basically grew up in footy change rooms around the country. Plus, I had married an AFL player. I had lived and breathed the game at every stage of my life, so it made a lot of sense that I was so passionate about it.

I know the game, I love the game, and I was absolutely stoked when the AFLW started up. I’d taken Floss to the first ever AFLW game when she was ten days old, which was such an emotional night for me as both a woman and a mother.

Sure, I think the hormones were still raging through my body, but it was also such a significant, huge moment in history both for females and the future of our position in sport – and the fact that I got to be there with my daughter to witness it was really special.

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So, there I was, racing to speak for an audience, the sweat dripping from under my milk-filled udders running down my stomach and soaking into the post-natal recovery shorts I’d decided to squeeze on underneath my leather skirt. Whose brilliant idea was that?

I raced into the hotel where the panel was being held, ran into the lift and pressed the button... wrong floor, of course.

Fuck. I was a sweaty mess and so nervous about getting up on stage – not because of any fear of speaking; more so because I was still in post-partum haze and, I reiterate, the under-boob sweat was real. (It’s an issue on any given day with size 12GG boobs, but add two proverbial gigantic hot water bottles on your chest thanks to your now 14-I-cup breastfeeding boobies and, woah, it's wet ‘n’ wild under your shirt.)

As a company director, digital marketer, social media influencer and the owner of multiple businesses, I hold myself to a high standard when it comes to work events (speaking events in particular), and I strive to be the consummate professional. My personal presentation is so important to me, so I like to always source [clothes] and style myself, as well as making sure that my prepared talk is in immaculate condition.

I am a ‘cram under pressure’ type of gal and it’s always worked for me. It’s how I operated best throughout school, university and now for work, so in regard to my preparation ahead of speaking engagements, it’s not uncommon to find me sitting up late at night, surrounded by pages and pages of handwritten notes (I’ve always retained information best by handwriting it), covering information on my expected talking points. I’ve also been known to stick notes up around my bathroom as a way of retaining information in order to present to the best of my capabilities.

As the elevator dinged to let me know I was at the right level, I could feel the panic rising.

Oh God, is my boob leaking?

I fumbled with my bag as the doors opened and I stepped through.

"Just in the green room to your right, Sophie," a lovely staff member said as she ushered me towards a door. The tiny room was buzzing as the other women inside all chatted to each other. I didn’t know who they all were at first, but the handful of girls wearing their club polos were obviously the footy players I’d be speaking alongside up on stage any minute.

When you’re on a panel, it’s pretty standard to be introduced to a whole lot of people all within the space of 60 seconds, and as I was taken around the room and introduced to football players, administrators, various volunteers and other people (whose roles I can’t now recall), just remembering everyone’s names was far too much to take in, given my newborn-induced sleep deprivation and the tizz I was in over being late.

All I could think about was the moustache I hadn’t had time to wax. Shit, have I got a sweat droplet hanging off my top lip? Ugh...

"Hi, I’m Sophie, nice to meet you!"

"Hi, yes, Sophie Cachia, so lovely to meet you." And so it went on...

Then there was her. "Hi..."

My world froze.

When you hear about people throwing out phrases like "the world stopped" or "I saw stars", I always thought it sounded like a bit of bullshit.

But as I shook this woman’s hand, the electric current that ran between us was instantaneous. Energy ran between us – or perhaps just coming from my end. It was as close to an out-of-body experience as I could have ever imagined – and I’d never felt anything like it before in my life. Time stood completely still – and, yes, I am now one of those people who says that stars surrounded her in slow motion.

My mind was racing as she introduced herself. Who is this woman?

I need to know her.

Oh my God, look at her arms... they’re so... sexy.

She wasn’t ‘pretty’. Not in the traditional sense that I had been made to believe thanks to societal conditioning, anyway.

During a discussion in late 2020 with my good friend Deni Todorović – a proud non-binary human and activist in the LGBTQIA+ community – we spoke about this concept. Once upon a time, we had both associated the word ‘pretty’ with femininity – a clear indication, we agreed, that we’d been taught to associate certain descriptive words with gender stereotypes.

But this is a way of thinking from which we’ve since both evolved. It is important for me to note this as part of my story so that when I have ‘labelled’ or stereotyped, it’s clear that these were the beliefs and thoughts of a past version of Sophie, not the evolution of her.

The woman who stood before me at the event was much shorter than me and very masculine in appearance. (Something else I have learnt over the past few years is that I’d instantly assumed her gender and pronouns based once again on societal conditioning, rather than asking her – though I now know how she identifies.)

She had soft, beautiful skin that seemed to glow, yet had muscular arms and bulging veins from her fingertips to her biceps – something I’d never seen up close on a female before. Her eyes were piercing, sharp – the kind that look straight into your soul.

I found myself inspecting her hands as she so firmly shook mine. They were strong, sturdy, with very short nails, bitten down to the bed. Protruding veins, as I’d so often seen on guys. ‘Man hands’, I called them.

When she spoke, her voice was deeper than I expected. Even her scent was masculine, and it struck me that, physically, she possessed everything that I found attractive in my husband. She wore no makeup, her hair was thrown into a bun on top of her head... she was completely untouched.

So, whilst my then-conditioned brain hadn’t labelled her as ‘pretty’, she was without a doubt the most strikingly beautiful person I had ever seen in my life. And it was in that moment my world changed forever.

I’d never felt this way about anyone before – so instantaneous – and certainly not about a woman. I’d always been able to appreciate another woman’s physical beauty upon introduction, but this feeling was something new to me.

This wasn’t just me objectively taking in her looks. This was intense attraction – and I had never been physically attracted to a woman before in my life.

So while one part of my brain was absolutely enraptured by this gorgeous, intriguing, powerfully sexy woman standing in front of me, shaking my hand, then the other half of me was thinking, What the f***, Sophie? Why are you attracted to her? Why are you attracted to a woman?

I admit, I was really rattled after that. The next few moments were a blur as I went around the room chatting with the other people who would be speaking that day, prepping to get up on stage. But I kept looking over my shoulder.

Who is that woman? And why do I care?

I was married, after all, and still very much in love with my husband. We’d just had our second baby for God’s sake. We were happy. I was happy! Our relationship was wonderful. Sure, there were a few issues, but nothing out of the ordinary; nothing that you wouldn’t expect to see in any marriage at some point.

In the eight years I’d been with Jaryd, my eyes had never found their way to anyone else – male or female – with this level of intensity, intrigue or sexual attraction.

Whatever had just passed between me and this woman, I was truly shaken and as the night wore on, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her, even as I was speaking.

I