I was at a The Bank Club at a friend’s invitation, this past weekend. I left my house thinking that I will be meeting with a friend and we will party up storm. Who knows she could have woken up at my lounge. Only to find out that she has brought her girlfriend. And I came alone. It was one of those events where I decided to brave it alone, dance alone and have as much fun. I got home in the morning, when sky was navy blue, having made new friends
At this party, there was this short petite woman who reminded me of my journey of my discovery. She told me that here name was Lola. I liked her hazelnut eyes. I was drinking a good morgitos that night. But I remember her tiny body clinging to me on the dance floor at Capello’s Newtown ten years ago. I was sweating literally cos it was too hot to handle. I also remember leaving the venue gasping for air cos she wanted to dance with me more. At that dance floor she asked me if I am a lesbian. She actually wanted me to take her home for some recreational activities. Me a lesbian, I could not be. I was as straight as a ruler. And I thought I love men, and it never dawn me that I could be attracted to a woman I also remember making a huge u- turn on route so that I go back find her and take her home.
I did find her and her friends leaving the venue. I took her to her home. Spend three hours practicing kissing her lips. I loved that I kissed her beautifully. I think I bored her to death. She needed more, more movements, more action, more sweating. And I only had my lips. At the time I had thought my lips were the only assets needed to please. I told her that I don’t do women. I find them too exotic to explore. I never saw her again after that night. I continued with my life without her.
I don’t remember when exactly did I realize that I m a lesbian. But my coming out journey has been long and painful. And it has made me realized that sexuality is the only journey which I alone have to travel. I can’t explain it to my sisters my parents and all. It is mine alone to travel. I am the second child to my parents. One of their three gals. I was not pretty as my aunt will try to explain why I was different, I think. The one that would stand with eyes closed to receive a kiss but never does. I looked like my father. I had always wanted to be my father’s boy. Pity parts did not grow where they were supposed to. So I was a woman, I am a woman.
Being thee second child, had me being a little invisible, less heard less spoken to. I think to seek attention I had to go onto extremes of being naughty. I would open radios to see what is in inside, wear my father’s tie wondering what I would be, if I was given a chance. I dressed differently, walked differently, aspired not to conform. Also the most vocal, it was important to be heard. Not sure where being a rebel came from. But I know that I gave my mother a hard time to raise me. She says I was the most challenging of all her three of her offspring.
Well until I met her again at the club. She walked up to me and asked if she knows me from somewhere. I thought her face was remarkable familiar. I was amazed at how much she reminded me of those hazel eyes that hypnotized me a few years ago. I blatted that I don’t remember. That she does look familiar. I am sure I am a twin from the past. And I continued dancing away from her. Afraid that she would have clung to me again. And this time I would have blown her away. Lol