24th of November, my 20th birthday, and I was stuck in a lecture at uni.
Of course I wasn't going to focus. The term was drawing to a close and most if not all of our important exams were out of the way. I'm pretty sure nobody else in that lecture hall was focusing either.
So I took the time to think about what I seemed to be thinking about more and more these days - sex. I had just found myself a year ago as a lesbian, and was pleased at how I had also found my own androgynous style, while still looking good. I took care of my skin, and it had begun to glow a caramel brown just as it did when I was 15, my hair was cropped and though my makeup was light, it effectively accentuated my brown eyes. I had kept myself active and continued to eat right, and luckily I rarely gained weight. I looked good, if I could say so myself.
So why wasn't I getting any?
I looked round the hall, and, faithful to the numbers game, there were some pretty hot girls around, a fair few. Obviously they were all straight. Obviously I would never find the ones who I can actually date attractive. Obviously I was subconsciously planning on staying a virgin forever.
Finally the lecture ended, after many a frustrated glance at the clock, and I made my way back to my house across campus. I checked my phone and took it off silent, and I had gotten a few more birthday texts and a tonne of facebook updates. At least I still had my friends today.
I was tapping away at my phone, and had worked the doors to the flats at Greyburn (where I lived) a hundred times before, so I didn't even bother looking up when I open them. Unfortunately, on this day of all days, somebody else was doing the same thing.
After the collision, I looked up, shocked and quite embarrassed to see a rosy cheeked, pixie-looking girl expressing the same feelings, except looking a lot cuter.
"Sorry!" we both laughed.
And that should've been it. But we stood there for a couple seconds longer than necessary, and I could swear I caught her checking me out. The hallway suddenly became really hot.
In a flurry of sweet-smelling hair and skin, she swiftly left and went on her way, leaving me frowning in confusion for a few more seconds before I got on with my day. I still thought about her though.
That night my good friend and fellow gay Greta was throwing a flat party for me, and all I had to do was show up. I didn't even have to bring alcohol. It was great. Plus she had promised a trip down to one of the cooler gay bars out of town later on, as if I needed any incentive to get overexcited about a party.
When I arrived, all my favourite people were there, Boris, who had died his hair yet another colour and was looking outrageous as per usual, Nicole, my best friend from primary school to whom fate assigned the same university as me, and Pratik, a lad (the English equivalent to a frat boy), but the nicest lad you would ever meet. They all gave me presents - bottles of Malibu, music gift vouchers, rare DVDs, the works - and we all joined the rest of the party in particularly energetic drinking games. I was in good company.
A few rounds of Ring of Fire later, Greta brought someone in to the living room.
"Hey guys, Chris says she wants to join so pull up a seat for her. We can always do with another gay!"
