a date with a closet case – a date to be remembered but not to be repeated

I’ve been clumsily handed a piece of paper with some compliments and a phone number without a dial code. I say clumsily as the woman who gave me the piece of paper had to ask me for a pen (and a piece of paper) but I could only provide her with a pen. Imagine my surprise when I was not only returned the pen but also in addition with said piece of paper.

Most people when providing landline based phone numbers make sure that they provide an area code especially if they go to a scene event where there’s considerable influx from people from surrounding more rural areas with different area codes.  I was already sceptical who would answer that phone.

Being young & insecure (it is a slightly older story) I dialled Ellen’s number for advice and she was of the opinion that one should always call those numbers because otherwise one may regret it later on.

I phoned the number learned that the women on the other end of the line is called Tinka* and we agreed to meet on an early evening coffee.

The only person who appeared to be even more nervous than I was Tinka but nevertheless she was very bubbly. So she started explaining to me that she can’t drink caffeine around early evening because otherwise she’d have difficulties falling asleep (I hadn’t asked about the decaf drink) and she went on to attempt to guess my zodiac sign. Is it cynical not to attribute her failures to guess correctly before the sixth attempt to her nerves?

The conversation went on that is she told my about her hobbies which included yoga, meditation and something else that sounded pretty similar to both yoga & meditation.

Up to here the most prominent interpretation would have been that of a classical mismatch we don’t share any interests at all and as such future dating would extremely difficult. But the remark that hit me over the head was: “does you family know that you….” here Tinka looked over both her shoulders like an automobilist before turning, well no, given that she looked anxious while looking over her shoulder more like a burglar before commencing his job “… that you love women?”

“yes, my family knows that I’m lesbian”, I opted for not repeating this beat around the bush expression. I don’t like the description of homosexuality as it sounds incredibly prudish by avoiding one clear-cut word that describes a fact that most prudes hate to hear and because it is a silly expression, one could either interpret it the way that I don’t have any affection for men (which isn’t true I’m just not sexually attracted to them) or the other way that I love all women just because they’re women (a women also has to have several other attributes other than just her sex to be truly desirable). In short “loving women” is the expression preferred by people who have a problem with being gay and potentially with eroticism & sex in general (regardless of who is involved) which makes them dates I now like to avoid at all cost.

“ah, so they know that you “love women”. Do your friends know as well?”

She did it again. She did it again while looking over both her shoulders to double-check whether she is seen (or overheard) by anyone.

Why do such closet cases even ask someone (of the same sex in whom they appear to be interested) for a coffee? The closet cases who are on a constant look out are just bound to have a miserable time. – But in this case it wasn’t only the closet case who was having a miserable time to be fair.

She then went on that her parents don’t know, her family doesn’t know and she hasn’t rally told many of her friends that she “loves women”. I was cringing in horror and absolutely not willing to become the first women she loves.

Her hand started my arm up to my shoulder which not only was facing her but more importantly was hard to see for anyone who wasn’t sitting at our table. I didn’t appreciate that kind of attention. I didn’t know her very much but the extend to which I knew her  was enough to tell me that we were mismatched and I generally don’t like people whom I hardly know to touch me. Since she wasn’t going to stop caressing my arm while she mumbled that one can see & feel that I’m a sporty person I decided to gently take hand and put next to me.

“You don’t need to scared. I’m not going to harm you.” Tinka whispered gently.

“You weren’t scaring me. Don’t worry.” I didn’t like the way she tried to reassure me. After all it wasn’t my first date with a woman, touching my arm or shoulder lightly didn’t do anything to scare me (more to annoy me in the situation) and after all it wasn’t me who had to anxiously look over the shoulder to constantly check whether we were being seen.

“Do you mind me smoking?” Tinka asked.

“Yes, I do actually. I’m not a big fan of smoking” I was honest and I didn’t say it to make it more difficult for her.

She appeared to be pausing in thought for a short while. Then after she finished her drink, her decaf drink, she revealed to me: “I’m gonna smoke now anyway. I’m just gonna blow the smoke away from you.”

Should I have had somewhere well hidden deep inside me a faint glimmer of hope that this date wasn’t that bad after all, I think it all went up in smoke and into the thin air.

*it is exactly the same Tinka who interrupted Anne’s coffee break. I just didn’t know about that before having a (decaf) coffee with her.

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About Kim Karlstein

Member of the gay conspiracy in one of the regional offices in the UK. The conspiracy you lately constantly heard about. Other than plotting how to take over world I have fairly normal hobbies. My gravatar is taken with thanks from wikimedia commons.
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