Am I a Lesbian Cliche?
Is being on and off in love with your childhood best friend for five years that borders on homoerotic too much of a lesbian cliche? Most likely. But if the dyed hair, celestial tattoos, and not-so-subtle charms — decorating both myself and belongings— didn’t give away that I’m the poster-child for awkward lesbians; well you’re a lost cause.
Eve: childhood friend since third grade, simultaneously came out to each other via Gifs, and once entered a queer platonic relationship at 15 without knowing what the fuck that even meant. We have a weird history, to say the least. We constantly dance around each other, flirting in messages, but becoming awkward in person when we see each other once in a blue moon.
In general, I don’t have good luck with dating, or people being attracted to me. There was one girl who asked for my number, she was nice, but not my type. In the moment, I assumed her calling me pretty was just a way to make a new friend. Boy was I wrong. We went out a few times and I even slept over. Except I apparently was oblivious to the romantic undertones of every hangout ever, which resulted in my subsequent ghosting. In all fairness; bullet dodged.
Now after that year-long debacle (I’m sorry, I’m just a dumb a-spec parading as a normal girl), the flirting between Eve and I ramped up by a hundred-fold. We held hands at gatherings, and she even asked me to kiss her cheek…which I somehow turned into a hand kiss like some sort of aristocrat instead due to my debilitating fear of intimacy. The cherry on top was her officially asking me on a date. We would go downtown, get some nice food, and then take a stroll in the fresh snow. Now I hate the cold, but that just means more hand-holding.
Now two weeks have passed since she’s asked me out, I stare at my phone, waiting for her to respond to my perfectly curated selection of reels that totally did not have flirtatious undertones and alluded to first dates.
I was interrupted once my professor walked into class 14 minutes late; almost got a free afternoon, damn it. Beside her was a taller girl with a brown complexion and long brown hair that fell just past her elbows in waves. She had a larger nose and even larger eyes. I couldn’t help but stare, it’s like she walked out of my brain when I imagined the prettiest woman to grace Mother Earth.
“I found this young lady outside looking hopelessly lost,” My English professor Miss. Engelson began, “She couldn’t make it the first few days from a delayed flight, so if one of you could graciously catch her up on the syllabus and first assignment that would be much appreciated.” She finished, sounding annoyed at the fact she has one extra student to deal with.
Miss. Engelson waved her hand lazily towards a free spot for the new girl to sit, said free spot right next to me. Oh God please no. I know I’m agnostic, but I’ll start praying to all of the gods so I don’t have to hold a conversation with the prettiest woman alive. You must be wondering: why the fuck are you trying to throw away your opportunity to talk to this goddess? My mouth. The words that will inevitably escape said mouth. The dumb words that will ruin any chance at even friendship.
After a whole ten seconds of listless prayers; she arrived. She sat on my right, and as she lowered herself down, a waft of lemongrass came with her. This is a dream. I have concluded that I am in fact, not awake.
She turned to me — no —, smiled — even worse —, held out her soft looking hand — I can’t do this —, then she opened her mouth.
“Hi,” Her voice, velvety and soft like a fresh cake, “My name is Maira, what’s yours?” The sweet smile never left her face, and I tried to make it obvious I wasn’t staring at it. I cleared my throat, meeting her brown eyes.
“Hi, Maira,” I took her hand; it was softer than it looked, “I’m Lilac.” I cringed as my moist palm met her perfectly dry one.
“Lilac,” Maira seemed to ponder on my name, “My favourite flower.” I don’t blush, I never blush. But my goodness were my ears on fire.
“I have a lilac in my backyard.” I blurted out. Great, that totally doesn’t sound like I’m inviting her to my house after thirty seconds of meeting. Instead of being incredibly weirded out and requesting to swap spots with someone, she smiled.
“Well, we’re English buddies now, so maybe I can see it one day.” Was she flirting? Is this how normal people flirt? I’ve never flirted in person before, my knowledge comes only from hiding behind a screen while slightly sleep deprived. I let out a strangely loud giggle and turned my attention towards Miss. Engelson to start the aggravatingly long lecture.
Two hours. Two hours of sitting in an uncomfortable plastic chair, memorising Maira’s side profile strictly through peripheral vision. Sure, there was some important information about some author…and some text. I’m going to need to ask someone to send me notes later.
As I was exiting, excited to be done with my day and see my cats, a finger tapped my shoulder. I turned around, facing the beautiful Maira. My first thought was that I did something horrible and she’s come to blackmail me. Why? OCD.
“Um, hey,” She started, putting a hand on the back of her neck awkwardly. She shouldn’t be the awkward looking one right now, “I was wondering if I could get your number? Not in a weird way.” Her big eyes widened. Oh God she looked like a living doll, “But uh, I missed the first week and I could use some help getting caught up on some stuff.” Maira finished, meeting my startled face.
“Yes!” I all but shouted, “Sorry,” I let out the worst laugh known to mankind, “Yeah, you can totally have my number, and you can just let me know if you wanna meet up, and we can go over some stuff.” I totally smoothly said, no stutters or word mix-ups in sight.
Our hands brushed as I gave her my phone. I’m smitten. After what felt like 10 minutes of her inputting her name and number, and sending herself a text, she handed my phone back to me.
“Well, I have a class now, so I’ll see you around, Lilac.” She said airily, waving her hand and rushing out the classroom.
“Bye…” I waved my hand in slow motion, my other hand pressing against my mostly flat chest, feeling my heart.
In all my 22 years of life I only have had two crushes: a girl in eighth grade who moved away and I subsequently forgot about, and Eve. It takes time for me to form friendships, let alone relationships, to want to be with someone I can be emotionally available and intimate with. But I couldn’t deny how beautiful Maira was, and how badly I wanted to be her friend.
“I’m sorry, she said lilacs were her favourite flower while making intense eye contact, and then asked for your number after class?” My friend Penny stared at me dumbfounded from across the sticky cafe table, “She’s obviously a dyke and clearly hitting on you.” She said, taking a gulp of her forgotten latte.
“Okay, first of all, don’t say dyke in public_”
“We’re literally the only ones here.”
“That’s besides the point,” I held up my hand to her face, “Even if she is…a dyke,” I whispered, “I don’t think she meant anything beyond friendship.” I concluded rather convincingly. Penny rolled her eyes in response.
“Yeah, I’m sure,” She said sarcastically, “Anyways, how’s Eve?” Penny had a sort of…distaste for Eve since I could remember. I met Penny during my gap year working as a handyman around town. After I had fixed her gate, she had lost her wallet and couldn’t pay me, so she cooked a delicious stir-fry as payment instead and promised to give me cash at a later date. I didn’t believe her at first, I’ve had a fair share of people ‘forget where they put their wallet’ and never pay me after. Penny though, she called me two days later saying she finally found her wallet underneath a couch at her moms place, and to come over immediately. We ended up quickly bonding and becoming friends shortly after.
Now, the rose-tinted glasses may be on when I speak about Eve at times, so Penny was excited to meet my best friend. Eve can come across as a bit standoffish to people, cutting her words short and speaking very curtly. It doesn’t help that she constantly has one earbud in at all times playing some motivational podcast, and checks her phone like she’s getting an email to win the lottery.
Penny was not impressed, to say the least. In my head, they were just like night and day, completely opposite of each other, and therefore were never meant to be.
“Eve is good,” I said mundanely, bobbing my head and avoiding direct eye contact.
“Yeah, okay. Now tell me what happened. I know that little pigeon-bob you do; she flaked on you again didn’t she?” Penny — in my opinion — is a certified mind-reader. On most days it’s not a problem, on Eve days, well I could do without the acidic undertones she likes to bring.
“I mean, can you blame her?” I began, tapping in fours on my drink, “She accidentally double-booked with her Aunt, and family comes first, y’know.” Whatever you do Lilac, do not make eye contact with the enemy (Penny).
“She doesn’t give you respect, Lilac,” Penny said in a rather sad tone, “And for what it’s worth, you don’t give yourself much respect either.” She finished.
“Excuse you,” I bit out, “I…” I trailed off. I couldn’t defend myself. I totally respected myself. I gave myself self-care days and treats all the time. That’s pretty damn respectful if you ask me.
“Lilac,” I finally made eye contact, “I care about you, and I just want you to be happy, okay?” She wore a forlorn expression on her face. I sighed in defeat. I always lose to her when I meet her green eyes.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. And I am happy for the most part,” I stretched my arms above my head, “Now, enough relationship talk. Club tomorrow?” I asked, needing a release at the local queer club.
“Obviously I want to go to the club,” Penny began, “But why do you want to go? You haven’t hooked up with anyone since Eve asked you out on the “date”.” Penny exaggerated her words with an annoying voice.
“First of all, I thought we concluded: no more relationship talk,” I said curtly, “Second of all, going to the club doesn’t mean hooking up. I just want to get fucked up and dance with my bestie.” I concluded, linking Penny and I’s hands together.
“Sure girl. Once you see a masc you’re done for.”
“Don’t expose me!” I shouted, hitting Penny in the arm.
A/N:
I don’t even know if this will reach anyone, but I love lesbians and there aren’t enough cute lesbian stories out there and I decided…welp I might as well do it.
If this does reach anyone, I want to know peoples thoughts <3
