Lightning Lilly Pt 2

A venue was quickly established for us to ‘meet for a drink’ and discuss further details of her charity ride. But we had to wait a few days as she was ‘germy’ (thought it considerate she didn’t want me to catch lesbian).

It was a humid night, a storm was brewing. I did my usual 15 minute early arrival thing and arranged camp behind a leafy plant near the entry (just in case she was still a snot monster). Once a vantage point was secured, I waited.

 Luckily it was karaoke night, so my entertainment was not limited to lesbian small talk. When Lightning sauntered through the doors I was pleased to see her in good health. Our babble commenced at 7pm, and what couldn’t be expressed with beer, was articulated instead through song, publicly.

Right before the bar chick finished banging stools, we observed it was time to vacate. Lightning Lilly ordered me into a cab destined for her abode, to which I obliged a little too easily. She was desperate to get my opinion on one of her drawings, and I was buzzed enough to think that was the world’s greatest idea.

From the moment I walked into her house I was preparing to leave. The place was filled to the ceiling with old lady trinkets allegedly belonging to her older flatmate.

Out came the drawings and one by one she talked me through her infinite pencil tinkering (which fascinated me about as much as folding washing). But I persevered because I have manners. When she finally took a breath I said “Well I better get a cab, got to work early.” I was granted a phone call on the stipulation that we catch up again for coffee soon. Phew.

Finally when I heard the cab roll up I leaned over and kissed her, very sensually. Not because I am smart, but because clearly at that time I needed someone to stalk me.

To Be Continued...

Lightning Lilly Pt 1

I bumped into Lightning Lilly during a past life as a hospitality manager. It was during a bizarre time for me because I was also in an ‘open relationship’ as my flav-del-la-flav of the time lived overseas. The deal was we were free to date others, but never discuss it. I could write volumes on why this doesn’t work for lesbians, but maybe another day.

Anyway, I was prepping food for the night whilst tolerating the interruptions of steady stock deliveries. The last delivery person came bustling through the concertina doors, piled high was her trolley with awkwardly arranged bags of flour. 

Our eyes met and we froze. (It was that squirmy moment lesbians experience when they bump into each other in public. Gaydar sirens bleat, hot flushes occur, bulky objects are sought to hide under. And in the rare event that you are also attracted to each other, (which we both so very obviously were), this phenomenon is vividly exaggerated).

I exploded into activity: taking over the heavy lifting (which I NEVER do), whilst providing encouragement, support and gentle direction, (chortling internally at my blatant charm and the effect it was having on this gorgeous creature).

The moment she blushed I knew I had her, all I had to do was close the deal without appearing very interested. But first I had to establish common ground AND check out if she was a single lesbian. (There is really only one way to do this without blowing your own cover when probing a potential date in a non-official environment). After all the paper signing and checking off tinned pineapple, I said “Hey, you on Pink Sofa?”  She replied “no but I am thinking about it”.

Interpreted that means: yes I am lesbian or bi (because straight people don’t know about Pink Sofa), and yes I am single, or planning to be now I have met you. Then she mentioned something about going on a ‘charity ride’ which instantly got my attention, because that represented an opportunity to engage. I showed great interest in her novel pursuit, which earned me her email address. (One may be tempted to insert a nerdy smiley face, but fortunately they weren’t invented back then).

I left it 4 days then sent her an email. She responded in 30 minutes – she was eager.

Drill Sergeant Pt 2

Arrival time was 1pm, this of course was so we could spend all day together before dinner.

Not what she had in mind. I opened her gate and spotted Drill Sergeant in some sort of backyard commando kit hovering impatiently around an enormous pile of pavers. Perhaps she had arranged a small herd of lesbians to help?

I spent the next 9 hours digging, raking, scraping, measuring, stomping, banging (not that kind), swearing under my breath, perspiring, bleeding and sobbing (quietly). Finally at 10pm Drill Sergeant exclaimed it was time for food – that I must be hungry by now. I was simply too tired to recommend where she could thrust the hamburger on offer.

She asked if I wouldn’t mind driving us to the burger joint and I was too stupefied to object (not that she would have noticed).

This next bit won’t surprise you, as by now I am sure you have acknowledged my position as the bathmat. Upon arriving at the window in the drive through, she permitted me then to pay.

Back at Drill Sergeant’s house we fell into her lounge together.  Drill flicked on the television and took a bite into the burger that I PAID FOR. She didn’t seem to recognize the channel was on ABC’s Question Time in Parliament. Perhaps under different circumstances I might find members of the parliament asking questions of Government Ministers extremely riveting, however under no circumstances is it sexy. Nor was the aroma of her empty shoes, the sound of her snoring, or the sight of the burger that I PAID FOR resting on her bib.

I managed to extricate myself safely from the thundering ogre, but not without being completely traumatized from the entire incident.

I learned that if someone invites me over for dinner at 1pm, be suspicious of her motives.

Drill Sergeant Pt 1

I had an imitation date with a girl once. I call it 'imitation' because I was super keen on her, but I am not convinced the feeling was mutual.

The way to determine my scale of ‘keenness’ is to observe what lengths I will go to get asked out, and furthermore, what limits of torture I will suck up before I crack, once out.

Special note 3: No names or actual venues will ever be disclosed, in order to protect the identities of the places and people I may unknowingly discredit.

For the purpose of this post, let’s call my date ‘Drill Sergeant’.

I tried everything known to lesbiankind to attract her. You know things like doing the lesbian mating sound when she was in earshot, billboard advertising with my name and number in subliminal text, syringing love potion into her lemonade when her head was turned, that kind of thing.

Drill Sergeant was renovating her home around about the time that we met via mutual friends on Pink Sofa.  being such a great listener and observer, it didn’t take long for me to cotton on to the fact she needed help with some of her weekend reno jobs. Finally she asked me over for dinner, on the proviso that I would help her with the ‘paving under the patio’.

My mind immediately conjured images of our sweaty bodies unable to resist each other after a few moments in the sun laying bricks (or each other).

To Be Continued...

Special Notes

I am relieved we are past my first date story since I joined the Sofa over 10 years ago. It was by far the least complex of situations/affairs/pseudo relationships/one night stands etc., probably ever, in the history of lesbiankind, and I am certain a percentage of you can relate to a similar predicament..? Where you find yourself rolling a date into an intensely short relationship.

Special note 1: There will constantly be ‘special notes’ that sit on their own. These are to assist the reader and may sometimes be used as disclaimers.

Special note 2: Do not expect dates to appear in any chronological order. I may report on a date that occurred last night, or one that happened 10 years ago. It just depends on my mood.

First Date Final - Learnings Included

Small talk followed. Something about her flatmate’s ability to vacuum cobwebs, and she really wanted to ‘get into surfing’. Then something whacky happened. She managed to negotiate her way back to my apartment. But it wasn’t until she sat back on my lounge and rested her chin on her knees (way too comfortably), that I began to sweat. She was in for the long haul. I started inventing reasons in my mind for why she needed to leave. I tried out one after the other but nothing deterred her. Even when I picked up my keys and opened the door, telling her I had to go back to Poland. She just thought I was being 'funny'.

I must have had amnesia for the next 3 weeks, because I can't remember what happened.

But. One thing about me, I never burn my hand twice in exactly the same way.

First Date Pt 3

I arrived at the local pub with more than a pocket full of pre-first-date nerves. (This was not because internet dating was entirely new, but perhaps because I had elevated expectations of my surfer girl. There were several previous affairs - one with an American police officer whom I had met on the internet and flew 15, 000 miles (according to Google) to meet  – but more about her and my infatuation with females in uniform some other time). My usual routine is to arrive at least 15 minutes early, this is to guage the mood, acquaint myself with exits and find something to read/do/or break. I refuse to arrive second, mostly because I am certain to slip on a banana peel or step on a dwarf during my grande entry.

I picked her immediately. She looked as rehearsed as my latest pickup line. My excitement slumped as the reality that she was SO not a surfer girl consumed me. She looked like an artist. Nothing against artsy types, I just don’t dig that, and I was too young and too shallow to give her an opportunity to be interesting. Engrossed was I, in disappointment.

She didn’t even have a shell necklace on...

First Date Pt 2

In the early years of Pink Sofa serial dating, I used to plan night dates that were local and convenient for me. Venues needed to adhere to my stringent ambient suitability requirements, complete with clear exits, mobile phone coverage, lots of shiny things, and alcohol.

I was born to date, even as a 3 year old I used to hand flowers to strangers. This was going to be a cinch.

First Date

Back in 2000, when Pink Sofa.com first started, I was a quirky 20 something with a history of breaking hearts. When I heard about the whole online dating thing, I was a tad intrigued because it represented risk and awkwardness.

I pitched my profile to attract vibrant sporty types, and it only took 24 hours to attract a potential mate, probably because at that time there were only 10 or so other profiles in my region. Her name had the word 'surfer' in it, which automatically meant she was a surfer.

It is very important to note that at this time, I believed in concepts like 'true love' and 'the one'. So the fact that we were exchanging messages meant something. It was special. My special surfer chick. We arranged to meet fairly quickly because as every impatient lesbian knows, these things can not wait.

To Be Continued..