Good news, I’m alive. The girl from Tinder was not a serial killer.
Avoiding the word “date” since we never established that’s what it was (but also, c’mon.), I had a lot of fun with her. It was a nice and light-hearted day out peppered with jokes, coffee, chicken and waffles, and topped off with Sisters.
Like the archetype of a Canadian lesbian, she plays hockey. She regaled me with stories about her university days when she lived in a house with ten other hockey girls, and on the hockey team at least half the team comprised lesbians (one year, of the 25 members, only four were straight. Heavenly).
Since coming out, I’m a lot more comfortable with who I am. I’m finding it much easier to explain ‘gut feelings’ and articulate my thought process, without the fear of what I’ll find along the way or at the end – my sexuality.
I think I’ve recovered (enough) from my last Tinder experience to go on another date. Except we’re not really calling it that. We’re going “christmas shopping”. Okay.
We’ve been chatting and texting back and forth for a few weeks now. We’re so cute it’s disgusting. She entertains my banter and sarcasm and throws it right back at me. But I refuse to get too emotionally invested until I see her in person (tomorrow). It could be the greatest letdown, for all I know. Love is a risk, and it’s fucking annoying.
The con is that she lives in a suburb, a ways away. But if the feeling is there, we could make it work. She has friends in Toronto so she comes down often.
Anyway, if I go missing, it’s cuz I went on a Tinder date and she turned out to be psycho, thanks everyone.
A few posts back, I blogged about an event that I wanted to attend held by Out on Bay Street. It would’ve been the first event in my professional life to overlap with my personal… but I pussied out and took the first lame excuse I could think of (“I’m tired”).
A second chance came and running off the regret of not going to the last, I promised myself I’d go. Up til the last minute I was worried I’d end up passing on it again. But this time I had someone to hold me accountable – the same one who introduced me to the organization the first time, and a highschool friend to whom I came out this summer.
Unlike the one I pussied out on, which was a women’s speaker series, this was open to all LGBT professionals. And being a networking event, I can’t say I was surprised that it was a SAUSAGE FEST.
But interestingly, 5 seconds in, I bumped into someone from a nonprofit I’m with. We had a good alcohol-infused chat after I corrected his thinking I was an ally. It was lovely.
It got a bit awkward at times as the number of gay men was overwhelming, but my highschool friend let me cling onto him for dear life and he introduced me to his gay crew. I actually had a ton of fun, which I didn’t expect. One of his darling friends was relentlessly trying to set me up with his roommate (who wasn’t able to make it out).
I’ll be sure to keep my calendar synced with Out On Bay Street’s events. I’d also like to meet more women next time (/obviously). But at least I can close 2015 having gone to an LGBT event (and a networking one nonetheless!).
Society stole my youth from me.
Growing up gay is hard. Growing up gay in Hong Kong warrants decades of therapy, but ain’t nobody got time for that. Growing up a female gaysian in a town of predominantly Asian immigrants outside Toronto is just as, if not more, damaging.
There was a lot of compensating and a lot of avoiding. Being in such a homogeneous environment made it even harder to understand why I was different.
While others my age in other towns were moving onto third base, coughing after their first toke, nervously waiting as the bouncer checked their fakes for the first time, I was focusing my energy on on a sport. Mine was badminton. I became very competitive and it occupied all my after-school time and attention. I’d pass on weekend parties as I’d be flying off to out-of-province tournaments.
I got good at my sport through hard work and dedication – I ranked top eight in Canada and it instilled a priceless amount of discipline in me. I was particularly invested in it because it was the perfect scapegoat for me to avoid coming to terms with my sexuality.
I lost a chunk of my youth there. I was never in a relationship because guys never “felt right”. Having trust issues from getting ripped away from my first “best-friend” at a young age (another story, another day) certainly didn’t help. So I convinced myself that I just “haven’t met him yet”.