At the beginning of our relationship, my wife and I lived about 50 miles apart. We spent a lot of time together, but we also had a lot of time to ourselves because of the distance. A typical week involved us being together during the weekends, as well as meeting up one night of the week, usually Wednesdays.
I trusted her in the way you have to trust a partner when there’s some distance like that, but there was always a part of me that was a little suspicious. She worked for a LGBT domestic violence organization and it often seemed like all of her friends were lesbians.
I learned that there was a bar very close to where she lived that had a weekly event on Tuesdays that they called Dyke Night. I started wondering if she was attending it each week because whenever I would suggest meeting on a Tuesday she would tell me she had something else planned. It wouldn’t have been a bad thing if she was going, in fact part of me was excited and aroused at the thought of my girlfriend being so involved in the lesbian community.
The bar would post photos from Dyke Night each week, and I found myself regularly on its website looking through the photos to see if I could spot her, although I never did. The funny thing, looking back on it, was that she would have happily admitted if she was going, but I enjoyed the thrill of speculating about it rather than asking.
I think this was evident when in the springtime she told me that she wasn’t going to be available on a certain Friday night because she was going to participate in the Dyke March.
I noticed a pattern starting to form. She already lived in the part of down that was known as the lesbian community. And whenever we would hang out in the city we would go to places that seemed overtly gay friendly. It almost wasn’t a conscious thought, at least on my part, but it just seemed like naturally all of our favorite places seemed to have rainbow flags out front.
She would often jokingly make comments about being disappointed that I wasn’t bisexual.
One day we were driving down the street together and passed two men walking together and holding hands. Perhaps she saw me looking at them, and that’s why she asked if I thought they were hot. It was kind of a weird question. I thought about it and then answered honestly. I said I didn’t think they were hot in the sense that I was attracted to them, but I thought it was really hot that they were two men in a relationship together.
She was probably surprised to hear me say that, and she asked me to elaborate. I explained that there’s something about the idea of two men being in love that I find extremely sexy.
There was a long pause to the point that I figured the conversation was over. Then she practically whispered, “What do you imagine them doing together?”
I hadn’t really imagined them at all, but I started thinking about it when she asked the question. I said, “I think of them holding hands. I think of them kissing. I think of them sleeping in the same bed together naked…”
I trailed off. I didn’t know what else to say. We happened to be driving to see a movie at the time, and I dropped her off in front to buy tickets while I searched for parking. When I got inside she handed me a ticket that said “Shelter” on it. I was a little confused because we’d already picked a different film. She explained that after what we’d talked about in the car she thought I would enjoy seeing this movie instead because it’s a gay love story.
It was not an explicit movie, it was about two men falling in love, and I enjoyed it a lot. Seeing this film together seemed to open up a whole new genre for us. From that day on we both kept our eyes out for any LGBT themed film coming out and looked forward to seeing it together.
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