Columns – A Lipstick Lesbian on the Prowl in London
Fresh to London, Astrid (and her alter ego, Fluffy) are making their way in the world of lipstick lesbians, fleeing loneliness, chasing love, sensation and meaning.
-
A Lipstick Lesbian on the Prowl in London
Being Single - Seeing Couples
There are worse things than being single. Much worse things.
You could be in a wheelchair; you could be living in desperate poverty.
You could be dead.
But ask any 25-year-old single woman if she thinks there are worse things then being single and I’m positive her answer will be “not many”.
A Lipstick Lesbian on the Prowl in London
Seventy-thousand lesbians flirting (or not)
You’d think my chances of hooking up, stealing a kiss, or meeting my soul mate would be quadrupled by being around 70 000 lesbians for an entire weekend….
A Lipstick Lesbian on the Prowl in London
Pikey Blonde
I promised I would talk about my dating life in my last column, so before I get sidetracked or digress, I’m going to jump right into it.
A Lipstick Lesbian on the Prowl in London
The girl in the copy room
The One’s reaction to the Ruler (read my last column if you don’t understand why a person would have any reaction to a ruler) was okay. And I hate the word okay. Because I use it a lot. It’s mediocre. I hate all things mediocre which is why I hate myself. But I digress. Sorry.
A Lipstick Lesbian on the Prowl in London
Soccer
I’ve always loved playing soccer. The last time I played I was 14 (a decade ago). I’ve never played for a team, but my dad used to header all day with me in the garden and I used to play for hours with the garden wall, because the boys wouldn’t let me play with them. They knew I was better.
A Lipstick Lesbian on the Prowl in London
Teach me a lesson
There it was. Perfect. Erect and staring straight at me out of its basket on the floor—
A bunch of old-fashioned wooden rulers – the kind from the fifties when blotchy-skin nuns used them to smack schoolgirls over their little knuckles. Punishment for saying the Lord’s name in vain.
A Lipstick Lesbian on the Prowl in London
Coffee girl
I sell frappacinos to restaurants. It pays better than journalism and I’m in London for a good time, not politics.
The girl who serves the coffee at one of my new clients in Chancery Lane takes my breath away (literally. As in, I forget to breathe). She’s definitely gay. I’m never wrong. Except that one time when I was wrong about my first “girlfriend”. ("Just because I let you fuck me doesn’t make me gay,” I think is how she put it.)
A Lipstick Lesbian on the Prowl in London
Meeting girls
So how the fuck do you meet people in this town? Or any town for that matter! It’s all: ‘Mom, Dad I’m gay!” Then you go striding through that closet door onto pinker pastures and plop … now what? And with whom?
A Lipstick Lesbian on the Prowl in London
DREAM – Day 4 after break-up
Last night I dreamt I was cradled in the One’s breasts and every time I wanted to fall asleep, she lifted my chin and kissed me. It was so real. Soft. Passionate. Forever and perfect…
Then I woke up and realised that I was alone in my bed and The One had broken up with me. Last Thursday, to be exact. It took all the power I had to get out of bed this morning. How do you get out of bed when you have no-one to dream of while you’re awake?
A Lipstick Lesbian on the Prowl in London
The One
Warning: This story ends in heartbreak. If you’ve just come out of a break-up, save this for another day. Or do read it and you can tell me your story and we can cry together. If you’re falling in love, stop reading now, I’ll only depress you and you’ll have your turn soon enough. And if you’re single and alone, this’ll show you why you’re better off that way.
© 2008. All About Love Online Publishing
