For those of you who know my writing, this is a break from my normal style. While my other stories may borrow small bits of truth or experiences from my own life, they are undoubtedly fiction.
This however is a true event that was related to me by a good friend and I have tried to retell it as faithfully as I can.
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My Name is Cally and I'm a lesbian.
Makes me sound like I'm introducing myself at some kind of gays anonymous meeting, but I guess the point I'm trying to make is that I'm happy and content to be who I am.
I wouldn't exactly say "out and proud" because being proud of something that is an intrinsic part of who you are seems strange, like being proud of having arms and legs, but I have no issues around my sexuality -- not any more, anyway.
We all know what it's like to grow up, encounter puberty and then have to learn what to do with our newly found sexuality. I guess it's easier for those who are straight as the routes for meeting people and the experimentation that follows are more obvious and easy to find, but I knew I was gay from day one.
I did have a couple of fumbling attempts at making out with boys as I knew it was expected of me, but I knew it wasn't for me -- I was far too interested in watching other girls in communal showers or changing rooms for boys to hold my attention.
Consequently I experimented when I could with girls, however as it was a bit more difficult to identify other girls who felt the same way, especially when you grow up in a small rural village, where girls my own age were more likely to feel confused about their lack of attraction to boys and often hid their budding lesbianism, it wasn't always easy.
Simpler for me than for girls in the same situation 20 years earlier though; at least I had the internet to help me.
The upshot of this is that some of my earlier experiences were not only less than great, some were downright disastrous and instead of helping me to come to terms with who and what I was, had the opposite effect and left me feeling as if I was 'wrong' in some way.
One encounter had a very profound effect on me, when at the tender age of 22 I met a woman online and we started to chat. Innocently at first, however after a few weeks we were flirting with each other and started to fantasize about meeting in person.
She seemed like a great person when we were chatting online; there was no pressure, we laughed and joked and obviously had a mutual attraction and so eventually we agreed to meet and I travelled to where she lived to spend the weekend with her.
That first weekend was good and we had lots of fun, both in and out of the bedroom but by my third visit she was making demands of me that I just wasn't happy with and she really didn't want to take no for an answer. She started to get really aggressive when it became obvious that she wasn't going to get her own way. Aggressive enough that I packed my things and walked out before the situation could turn even more nasty.
I don't want to go into the details as she really isn't an important part of this story other than by way of an explanation as to why after knowing that I was gay from an early age, I suddenly started to question my sexuality.
The way she treated me left me feeling very down and depressed, I shied away from any other contact, either physical or online, that could turn vaguely sexual and hid myself away; I didn't even masturbate as every time I touched myself it made me think of her and the way she had treated me.
I got so low that I started to loathe myself to the point where I thought of myself as having an illness called 'Lesbianism'.
Yes I know how wrong that is! But it's hard to be rational when your heads a mess, especially as I hadn't come out to my family or most of my friends at that point and had no one I could turn to for support.
Even less rational than perceiving my sexuality as an illness was the route that my addled brain came up with to 'cure' myself.
I'm a very feminine woman. I like nice clothes and I like to make the best of myself with carefully styled hair and tasteful make up. I am told (and who am I to argue?) that I'm an extremely attractive woman and that my petite frame has all the right curves in all of the right places and yes, I like to dress in a way that shows off my attributes to their best advantage, but I'm no slut and I'm not cheap.
Until this point the worst unwanted attention I had received was from a group of very butch lesbians that used to frequent a pub in the town where I worked.
They would catcall and whistle after me; shouting out rude and crass comments as I walked past. That might appeal to some women but not me, I like my women to look and behave like women and I like them to have a bit more class.
Now I know that this is an illogical jump, but as I've already said my head was in a very strange place at the time and I decided that if I could make myself loathe all things lesbian, then surely I would be cured and my life would follow the traditional path of boyfriends, marriage, babies and hopefully ...... happy ever after?
Looking back now I realise just how screwed up I was for this to make an ounce of sense, however at the time I thought I had found the solution to my problem.
My plan involved visiting the pub where these extremely butch girls hung out and allowing myself to be picked up and subsequently fucked by one of them, with the expectation that I would find the whole experience so horrible that I would turn away from having sex with women thus curing me of my gayness.
I was nervous but determined, so I picked a night when I had no work the following day & dressed very femininely and provocatively in high heels, short black skirt (with a wide hem, the sort that looks like it could be blown up with the slightest wind) and a see through white blouse with black lacy half cup bra. I finished the outfit off with a black thong under my skirt so if it did 'flip up' my bum would be on show.
I controlled my nerves and walked into the dingy pub and straight up to the bar, ordering a vodka & coke for Dutch courage. I rarely drink alcohol but I needed something to bolster my actions and stop me fleeing back out of the door.
As I stood by the bar I noticed a group of extremely butch girls playing pool and it wasn't long before one of them noticed me and nudged her friend.
One came over to buy a drink and made a show of looking me up and down, saying
'Very nice, little girl, you like girls like us?' and sort of nodded towards her friends.
I just shrugged my shoulders and looked down at my drink; taking a hearty swallow as she walked back to her friends laughing.
The bar had loud music and a small dance floor and after about 10 minutes another girl walked over to me.
'Hey girl, would you like to dance?'
I just nodded and when she took my hand I followed her over to the dance floor, putting my drink onto a small table and asking 'will this be ok here?' the first words I had spoken.
