We met last year, while we were working on a film. It was delightfully coincidental that our girl-meets-girl story was unfolding each day that we worked to make an actual movie come to life. I remember when she walked into the production office and I saw her for the first time. She had a conversation with one of my friends that sat near me, and then she left shortly thereafter. I immediately asked him who she was. I was struck by her and wanted to know more. On set, her and I exchanged glances and shy smiles for the first few days, before we even had a real conversation. Her and I unfortunately worked in completely different departments and didn’t have an actual ~reason~ to talk to each other. That is until finally, a bunch of us went out to a bar after work one night and she introduced herself to me. Talking to her that night confirmed that she was absolutely someone I wanted to pursue. As time passed, her and I became increasingly flirtatious with one another. She loved to snack on dates, and one day when I walked by her she held out the container as if to offer me one. I jokingly replied, “Are you asking me on a date?” She laughed and joked back. I was pretty proud of my quick wit and so happy that she always reciprocated when I flirted with her. The only problem was that I wasn’t sure if she was into girls. I mean, the connection seemed undeniable, but I kept looking for clues regardless. I just wanted some kind of confirmation so that I could be sure.
The producers on the film treated the crew to an outing at a baseball game, which her and I both attended. It was a blast, and afterwards her and I decided to grab food together at a restaurant nearby. I left that meal on cloud nine. We had the best conversation about the spectrum of sexuality, and it gave me the confirmation that I was looking for. She told me that she had never been with a girl before, but that she was down for anything. We agreed that if you have a connection with someone, no matter who they are, you should go with it. We stated it as a generalization, but we were mutually aware that what we really meant was that WE should go with it. After that meal, it was only a matter of time. As a seasoned lesbian myself, I felt that I should be the one to make the first move. About a week later, we attended the wrap party for our film. Her and I were so touchy all night. Then, I invited a bunch of people back to my apartment after the party, of course including her. That was the night of our first kiss. We were standing in my kitchen, just the two of us, while everyone else was hanging out on my front porch outside. We were both a little drunk but I remember thinking that it was the perfect moment. I leaned in for a kiss and we passionately made out for several minutes. “FINALLY!” I was internally, joyfully screaming. It was amazing. I heard someone coming, however, so we abruptly had to stop. We returned to my front porch and hung out with the rest of our friends. Eventually, everyone left, but she stayed. She wanted to sleep over. We made out in my bed and things were escalating really quickly. She wanted to have sex, and I obviously did too, but I was overwhelmed by how quickly things were moving. We went from months of coyly flirting, to her in my bed begging for me to take her pants off. I liked this girl so much that it terrified me. I hadn’t had feelings like this for anyone in over half a decade. My head was filled with “what ifs?” Thus, we didn’t have sex that night. I wanted to slow it down because she was more than a drunken fling to me. I wanted to date her.
Our physical encounters continued over the course of a couple of weeks and then we ended up having sex at our friend’s apartment after a party. We were both drunk when it happened, which I didn’t feel great about because like I said, she was more than a drunken fling to me. I was hoping our first time would be special and sober. The next morning I woke up in bed with her and we cuddled. I had to leave to go to work, so a few hours later I texted her to tell her that I thought last night was amazing and that I had a really great time with her. She took hours to reply and all she said back was, “Thanks so did I.” My stomach dropped and a wave of nausea washed over me. It was completely unlike her to be so short. The fact that she was after we had sex for the first time made me panic. Little did I know that it was the beginning of the end.
She began avoiding me, but I was too afraid to directly ask her what was up. I feared that addressing it would scare her off even more and that it would ruin any remaining potential to continue our encounters. After months of me overanalyzing what happened/what went wrong, she finally told me that she wasn’t gay and that I had just intrigued her to try something new. That all it was to her was the fulfillment of her curiosity. My heart shattered. To me, she was my dream girl. I liked everything about her. We had infinite potential. We would have been so good together. I felt used and crushed. I tried to save face and tell her that it was okay, and that I wasn’t trying to date her anyway (the most obvious of lies). I’m sure she saw right through it.
Now, I can’t stop the memories from flashing into my mind. They are painful reminders of how I lost something I never even got to have. I also can’t shake the paranoia that she will end up connecting with another girl that she will then date. That hypothetical situation is my worst nightmare. It would kill me because if that were to happen then I’d know that the reason that she didn’t want to be with me isn’t because of my gender, but rather because of who I am.