I wonder how many of the women I’ve tried to date have become lesbians.

Full-on lesbians, I mean.

Now, I should probably define. I am (still maybe?) a writer for the “Gay City News” much to my befuddlement and I do think that sexual attraction takes whatever form it does and that it’s not easily defined by terms like “gay” or “straight”.

That said, girls (ladies?) who have decided to swear off men but are looking for their own personal Ani DiFranco.

These are who I am talking about.

I joined a Facebook group recently supporting Howard Dean for Secretary of Health and Human Services.

Now I know I said I don’t want to get into politics, but it seemed pragmatic to me. If Obama wanted a guy with a high profile to push his health-care agenda, here was a crazy Vermonter who did a damn good job in 2006 AND is himself a doctor.

Anyway, I looked at the people at the group, a whim and found this girl, a pre-not-girlfriend of mine from back even in my high school days.

Her name was Gabi and while I don’t know if she was cute back then, I certainly wasn’t any sort of catch.

I wandered everywhere slumped with my faded-black-leather-jacket on (a hand-me-down from my dad) trying to make sarcastic comments about things and hugging my legs when people didn’t respond.

She was just a girl, a Polish girl, in my after-school dance-criticism class.

The whole thing really stank of going nowhere. I was a loner and a social retard at my school and my best friend/teacher/mentor at the after-school-program was a sharp-witted gay man who while great for trading snarky comments with, couldn’t give me much advice with girls.

Gabi was just a Staten-Islander, a fact which I mocked due to my hatred of Staten Island (justified) and she would mock me for my upper-middle-class-rich-boy-complacency. In trading sarcastic comments about each other and walking to the 6 train after class, we both saw in each other some sort of something bitter.

Out of that was the attraction, I suppose.

It was very hesitant, really. I would get invited to go see a play by Brian, my mentor, who would then also invite Gabi. Later he would just give me tickets and I would, as nonchalantly as I could, invite her:

“Yeah, it’s uh, Nick. So uh, yeah. If you uh, wanted to, uh, go to this, uh, uh show with me, because Brian gave me tickets and all then, uh, yeah I guess, alright talk to you later.”

And I would expect a message back.

And sometimes she wouldn’t come but sometimes she would.

Strangely, I remember the way she wouldn’t look at me as we would walk around as I would look at her, this oddity, this strange girl who spent time with me voluntarily.

She always held her head around me, if that makes any sense. Her strange, wide Eastern European face. Her cheek-length brown hair. Her glasses staying up her nose instead of eternally slipping down, like mine always did.

She also kept a notebook which I thought admirable.

I asked her to be my girlfriend one day after class or on AIM maybe.

“Is this a joke?” She asked me.

“No.” I replied.

“I’m not even sure I like guys.”

But weeks would pass and classes and she didn’t say a peep and I’d stare at her or not stare at her or stare into my lap.

Eventually I talked to her on the phone, something she didn’t like–cell phones were a middle-class convenience.

“So.” I said.

“So, what.” she replied.

“So, will you be my girlfriend.” I asked.

“Do you need an answer now.” She said.

“Well… yeah.” I replied.

And a pause.

“Then no.” She said and hung up.

I looked at her Facebook page and didn’t see much. She was still friends with Brian. She was still going to CSI, which even then sounded like a cheesy TV show, but which I knew to be College of Staten Island.

“Don’t you want to get out of Staten Island?” I would ask her.

“That’s something that people like you get to decide, not me. My parents don’t have a million bucks.” And I would shut up, because I didn’t know how much money my parents made and it could have been a million bucks.

She was with another girl in her facebook picture and a member of LGBT facebook groups but that was all that I could see.

But I didn’t take it as hard as other girls who would shun me in the past, or others before.

Because I felt like she at least gave me a chance.

Or that maybe she was a lesbian.

One Response to Les-Membrances


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