me, a lesbian, mistaking a nice twink for a nice butch lesbian: [gives him the lesbian nod]
him, a twink, mistaking me for a twink: [gives me the gay once over]
me, a sensitive dyke: [calls an uber and spends the whole time misty eyed, wondering why this nice butch would look me over like i wasn’t a HUMAN BEING, like i was something to be gawked at. i ignore my Uber driver’s attempt at small talk, staring out the window and questioning everything i know about life, meaning, and the pursuit of lesbianism]
him, a confused gay: [stares at the space this twink just vacated, completely floored. a nod. does he think this is a game. does he think this is a joke. this isn’t a PTA meeting where you nod at your old friend but also secret enemy Brenda from across the room. was i not even worth the once over. have i lost my game. what does this mean]
Maybe this is what the straights mean when they say we’re confused.
