This is an extract from my upcoming book, The Diary of a Lesbian Spinster. It’s available to pre-order now as an eBook, with the paperback launching on September 1st. View book here.
I’ve been chatting on Hinge to a 5’8” blonde PE teacher from Brighton and I think she’s the one. What do I know about her? That she’s a 5’8” blonde PE teacher from Brighton.
This is all I need to know.
She asked me what my favourite food was and I said smoked salmon and cream cheese bagels, which she took as a great opportunity to invite me to brunch. Naturally, I thought this was extremely forward, but I immediately said yes.
Brunch was then downgraded to just tea and cake, because I can really go to town on a salmon and cream cheese bagel and that’s not a sight anyone needs to see on a first date.
Or ever.
We’re meeting this Sunday in Hove, and the nervous energy coursing through me is making me as giddy as a horse on ketamine.
Sunday – 9 am
It’s date day with the PE teacher. I wouldn’t say that I had high hopes, but I have narrowed our wedding venue down to two.
Naturally, I jest. Why on earth do people want to get married? Unless you’re religious, or one of you is rich and you’re just marrying for money, I don’t see the benefit of being contractually attached to another person.
I probably shouldn’t open with that on the date.
Right, time to get ready. Must remember to eat cake properly like a civilised human being, and not like a Victorian orphan who hasn’t eaten for a month.
I’ve just spent 45 minutes trying on everything in my wardrobe that’s casual but not ‘slob’ and smart but not ‘wedding’.
Must also remember to pluck my beard before leaving.
2:30 pm
I think that Moroccan blue would be a good colour for the wedding. That’s my way of saying the date went well. She was charming and relaxed, though I could tell she was a little nervous because she didn’t make eye contact for the first hour.
‘What would you like to drink?’ she asked.
‘A mint tea, please.’
‘And what would you like to eat?’
‘Oh, umm…’ Ever the indecisive idiot, I said I was torn between the brownie and the chocolate cake. ‘Can I have the brownie, please? Oh, but there’s a cookie as well… actually, yeah, just the brownie.’
As she ordered the drinks at the counter, I got to have a good look at her arse. Firm, five stars, very nice. Being a PE teacher definitely suits her physique.
I also learnt later that she’s a triathlete. Oh shit, I’m going to have to really up my exercise. Bollocks.
When she came back to the table she had a large plate with a brownie, a chocolate cake and a cookie on it.
‘I know you couldn’t decide, so I thought we’d get all of them and share.’ Oh, huge bloody brownie points, quite literally, really.
I noticed as she spoke about her preference for animals over humans (another tick) that she had a small cross tattooed on her arm. Hmm, I assumed it could be one of two things: 1) it’s just a cool hip tattoo or b) she’s religious and loves the big man upstairs.
It turned out that it was the latter.
‘It’s normally a bit of a tricky point for people,’ she said.
‘I think it’s best if we terminate this date right now,’ I joked. It doesn’t bother me one little bit if someone is religious, unless they start using it as an excuse to be sexist, homophobic, or just hateful.
But she’s a gay woman who has bought me three desserts, so I don’t think she’s any of those things.
‘So, what’s the guitar on your arm?’ she asked, pointing at my arm.
‘It’s for my love of country music. It says Brandi Carlile and The Dixie Chicks on the strap,’ I said, delicately wiping away the crumbs from my mouth.
‘Oh yeah, I remember you said you love country music, that’s why I wore my flannel shirt today.’
Wow, not only did she buy me all the cakes, but she also dressed in a way that she thought I might find attractive. I mean, she’s right, the flannel shirt looked great on her.
Not as great as those tight jeans, but still, very nice.
‘So, what made you get into stand-up comedy?’ she asked, taking the smallest half of the brownie.
‘I love to make people laugh.’
‘Ah, so you’re a manic depressive?’
‘How awfully perceptive of you.’ I laughed before taking a long sip of tea, avoiding all eye contact. She doesn’t need to know that I’m not well upstairs just yet.
‘OK, this might be weird, but… I like to guess what month people were born,’ I said, changing the conversation completely. Oh yeah, I was totally myself throughout the entire date. Saying whatever weird thoughts came into my head and booping the dog under the table next to us on the nose. ‘I’m going to guess May.’
She opened her mouth in amazement.
‘How did you know that?’
‘Well, you’ve got a sunny disposition, so I thought summer, and May was coming up.’
‘OK, but which date was I born?’
‘Hmm,’ I thought for a moment. The only date in May that means something to me is the 3rd of May because that’s when the woman I was in love with at school (unrequited, God, what a feeling) told me to never contact her again. ‘The 3rd of May?’ I guessed.
‘Wow, that was my due date. But I was a week late,’ she said, thoroughly impressed with my seemingly gifted talent for guessing people’s due dates.
I’d only got parking for three hours, but we chatted for so long that I had to cut her off and tell her that I only had 20 minutes left on my car, which was parked a 30-minute walk away.
There was a point in the date when our knees touched under the table and neither of us moved our legs away. I looked at her lips and thought, ‘Yeah, I could kiss them. I think I’d like to kiss them.’
We hugged and left, and I sprinted as quickly as I could back to my car with a huge smile on my face. I began to imagine doing things like going out for dinner with her, going on holiday, taking her to meet my friends.
Er, Jenna, I think we’re getting a wee bit carried away, dear. It was just a first date. Don’t start projecting your dream fantasy lesbian life onto her just yet.
Fine…
4 pm
She’s texted me! Woo-hooo! She thanked me for the chat and tea.
‘Hey, thanks, it was lovely! Do you fancy having a drink and more civilised chat in the evening some time?’ I replied without thinking for a bloody second that perhaps suggesting a second date just two hours after the first one might come across as a bit much.
‘I would actually,’ she replied. Fantastic! Although… I’m not overly keen on the use of the word ‘actually’. No worries, maybe she’s just trying to be cool.
To celebrate a successful date, when I got home I got out my little vanity mirror to start squeezing the blackheads on my nose when suddenly I remembered: I’d forgotten to pluck my beard… Shit.
I hope she didn’t notice.
Tuesday
We’re texting, trying to arrange our next date, and I’m doing a little dance at the same time to celebrate this fizzy feeling in my stomach that I haven’t felt for bloody ages.
She’s suggested a Japanese restaurant followed by a whisky room, and maybe an activity first. What the…? Those things are a one-a-week type thing, not three in one evening.
‘What would you like to do first?’ she asked.
‘Well, you can come to mine and we can have sex. Or how about crazy golf?’ I thought, but didn’t say.
I Googled things to do nearby and apparently there’s a big-arse Catholic church which she might like. When we eventually start holidaying together, I’ll happily entertain her religious side by pottering around old churches, you know, because she’s so hot.
Anyhoo, no time to get too giddy as I’ve got a date tomorrow evening with another woman, and then a speed-dating event the following night. Keeping my options, and legs, very much open.
Gosh, how uncouth. I’m so sorry.