If game then play for love

IF GAME THEN PLAY FOR LOVE

 

-- Picture a scene.

-- Where?

-- Lesbian bar in London. For women only. The rule is that male guests must be accompanied by women. It's under the cover of scaffolding. Underground. Hidden. Known.

-- Where is it?

-- In Soho, the gay district.

-- Gay as in happy?

-- Possibly.

-- Anyway, there's a drunk man at the door arguing with the security. Holding a bottle of wine in one hand and his dick in the other screaming, ‘Do you want some of this?’

-- He seems upset.

-- Yes, I wonder what that's about.

-- Continue.

-- None of us pay any attention.

-- Who is us?

-- Several women standing in an ordered queue by the dark metal door. I look at the security for cues as to his level of danger to me. She is mildly amused so I ignore him. We all go down, away from the rain and the cold as I enter into the womb of possibility. I follow the women. I'm excited. At the entrance, I’m greeted by a mirror. I smile at the reflection.

-- What is it about this place that excites you so?

-- There so many women and I want to meet all of them! I breathe in the softness of murmuring voices. The beat on the dance floor. I take in the walls with graphic illustrations of gender roles free of hetero-normativity. I could be a man here. I could behave like one and get myself a one night stand. Or meet a girlfriend. Or anything else that might occur to me. Everything seems possible in this place!

But I am a total newbie. There are rules to this type of game in the straight world. Hundreds of tiny cues that are part of my subconscious now. This place brings them all to the surface to be questioned.

Like who makes the first move.

Like attitude.

Like how do I even start?

-- Why do you think the rules are different here?

-- Because I am different.

-- Different how?

-- I don’t have to pretend to be weak anymore. I no longer need to be rescued. I'm not looking for a prince to sweep me away. This is the place where I want to be.

Except I'm afraid I won't be accepted and loved. So I run a little test to see how it goes.

-- What does the test consist of?

-- How fast I can get some love.

Chuckle.

-- Ok, go on.

-- I look around. Women sit in pairs. A thought crosses my mind: How the hell am I supposed to know which ones are friends and which ones are couples?

Right, they are kissing. Not like friends.

-- You did not do your research, did you?

-- What research?

-- Researching lesbian dating rules.

-- This is my research. First-hand experience.

-- That was not wise.

-- Why is that?

-- You will see. Please continue with your story. What are you doing here?

- Looking for loooove.

I go to the bar. Order a vodka tonic.

-- Nice drink.

-- Yes, I like how it knocks me out.

-- Why are you knocking yourself out?

-- I don't want to feel.

I use the crowd at the counter as cover and take the opportunity to scan the room.

It disperses fast. I am left standing. Alone.

No signal on my phone so I can't text my friends. Or browse. Or pretend I'm there reading something interesting. Just me, with my drink, standing in a room full of women in pairs.

-- I have a question.

-- You are annoying.

-- I know but I want to know, I'm curious, humour me, please.

-- Ok, go ahead.

-- How do you know who you like if you can't feel into them?

-- I have eyes. I don't like to be exposed. I feel awkward. I don't know what to do for a while.

-- Move.

-- Yes, I pick up my drink and go to another room. There she sits, one drink on her table, I hope that means she's alone too. I ask her:

1. Is this seat taken? She says no.

2. Pointing to the seat. Can I? She says sure.

3. I hold out my hand. Hi, I'm Anna. She says hi back. Contact made.

I am aware that I am overcompensating. I sit with legs spread wide, leaning in. I check her out as she talks. She likes my attention but is not responding with the same intensity.

We exchange questions. There are plenty of things we have in common. I like her mind and mild manners. I like her gentle sense of humour.

I find out she's an artist. Someone who reaches her goals. Someone who's not afraid of going to places alone. Someone who speaks several languages. Well travelled, dealt with her shit.

-- How do you know that she, as you say, dealt with her shit?

-- She handles being alone in London well.

Definitely girlfriend material.

-- What does that mean to you?

-- She's smart, talented, warm, and of kind heart. Qualities I'm looking for in a girlfriend.

I could know more. I could meet her in the light of day. Grab a coffee, hear her say.

But right now, I want to play.

Fast. Loose. Furious.

She leaves and I cancel my plans with friends to stay.

-- Wait a minute. You let her go?

-- Yes, why?

-- Just asking. Considering you wanted to know how fast you could get love, it's amazing you didn't notice when you got it.

-- I wasn't looking for love then.

-- So you lied to me.

-- Yes, I guess I did.

-- Let's see what you were looking for. Please continue with your story.

-- I went to the bathroom for a break. It’s brighter in here. Harsher light delineated faces. I can see better. As there are only two cubicles, I stand with my back to the sink, letting women pass to wash their hands or hear the noise of the hairdryer interrupting conversations. I’m in a queue. I notice that the girl next to me has a princess crown on her phone. I find it extremely cute and tell her. She gives it to me as a gift. I'm amused and thank her.

-- So you've received another gift.

-- Yes.

-- Did you like the girl?

-- Yes, I did.

-- Tell me what she looks like.

-- Her blond hair falls softly on her shoulders. Blue eyes, stranger's eyes reflect interest. She has nice breasts. Her body is strong. She asks if I want her phone number.

- Sure, I say.

- No really, call me.

- Well, we're here now, we can talk and get to know each other.

- I'm on a date. It's not going very well so...

She punches in the digits.

I am transported to the night I met the singer. I high five her in solidarity. She goes into a cubicle. I leave.

-- Wait, what singer?

-- I went to a concert with some friends earlier this month. There was a singer on stage and I liked her. I asked for her phone number later although I was with people and couldn’t join her for a drink at the bar. I was proud that I got up the courage to ask. It's not easy to approach a total stranger. You never know who you're going to meet. This time I met my mirror.

-- Why do you call her your mirror?

-- She didn't like who she was with and decided to try again with someone else. I identified with that.

I go to the bar. She sees me and comes closer.

- Hi, I say.

- Hi, she replies.

There isn't much to say. We understand each other. By mutual impulse, we hug. Long. Close. I am getting used to her curves against mine. I kiss her neck.

We kiss. Hot, hot tongue. For a few seconds, I forget everything. Where I am, who I am.

Hands roaming. Hers on my body, mine on hers.

Her bra has no padding.

I love every second.

We break it off. Look into each other's eyes. Do we recognise each other?

- I have to go back, she says.

I leave her to buy drinks. Go sit down. That was intense.

Her date is sitting in front of me.

Laughter.

I'm left at the bar. I stand around waiting for her to come back. Other women are bumping into me 'by accident'. They are catching my eye, holding my gaze. I think Everyone saw what just happened. I am now 'taken', right? What are the rules of this game?

I feel hopeful.

In the meantime, someone finally catches my eye enough to think, Well hello there.

She's playing as well.

-- How did you come to this conclusion?

-- I'm observant. She communicated it with her clothes and what she was doing. She wears a lot of iron studs. Both on her leather jacket and her nose. I notice how she leaves one girl to saunter over to another, places her hand in an overpowering position. She gesticulates loudly, whispers in her ear. Her whole body leans over offering itself. It's fun to watch. I think, Kudos to you, girl.

Then I notice mirror talking to her date on the dance floor. She's not paying any attention to me. The lack of attention hurts me.

-- I have a question.

-- Ask.

-- What you know about people by noticing their body language is special. Did you know that about yourself?

-- No, I thought everyone knew how to do that. I thought that everyone communicated that way.

-- They do, but not on purpose. It slips through the personas people have built for themselves.

-- I’m not special, silly. So why do they build personas if it's not who they are?

-- To survive in harsh conditions. Like you. This character telling me her story, you built it to survive very harsh conditions and to carry your personality. She is a shield you wear to protect yourself from pain. But as you can see, she cannot protect you from the pain of having someone you like reject you, like who you call mirror just did.

-- No she cannot but she can die trying.

Chuckles. Yes, I can see that. She's very determined to get you what you want. Although it's easier than she thinks.

-- Easier exactly how?

-- Keep telling the story and you'll find out. You were hurt by who you call your mirror not paying you attention on the dance floor.

-- Yes.

-- What did you expect from her?

-- I expected her to dump her date and come after me. We would make out some more and go to her place to continue our conversation.

-- What conversation?

-- Exactly. I wanted our bodies to do the talking. I am not good at communicating any other way. But it was not happening so I was sad about that.

-- Take time out. Breathe. Go back. Try again.

-- Let's see what else is out there.

-- Tall, long hair. Dancing with her friends. Cute, smiling at me then looking away. Her body dances to the music slowly, from side to side. I approach to say hello. She is nervous. She's not playing. I lose interest.

-- Try again.

-- Blond angel with a boy cut.

-- Why do you call her an angel?

-- Because she looked innocent and sweet. She had a quiet air about her. I hope you can see her leaning against the wall, she looks so out of place here. Her face is sombre. She is not drinking. Just calmly looking around.

-- Do you like her?

-- Yes, I do.

- Are you here alone? I ask her.

- No, I'm working, I'm looking after the floor. She replies.

She looks surprised at my approach. I ask her a few gentle questions. Her smile is shy. I am charmed. I want to get to know her. Not in a playful way.

I forget all about mirror. Thoughts race through my mind for conversation.

– I told you to do your research.

– The silence grows. It becomes unbearable. Finally, I say, would you like to get a cup of coffee sometime?

            – Sure, she says. Let’s meet.

            – When are you free? I ask her.

            -- I’m off working this weekend but we can meet on Monday or Tuesday if you like.

            – Sure, sounds great. What’s your favourite coffee place?

– Well done. I know the end of that story.

-- I walk out of the playground. I learned a few lessons and got love. Who could ever wish for more?