Sunday my girlfriend, Violet, and I went to an Easter-ish dinner party. We were invited by one of her old college friends, Adia, to have dinner at her moms’ place. Her hippy dippy goddess loving moms hosted a lovely gathering. During dinner someone started a conversation about their upcoming travel plans and I mentioned that I had spent some time in Eastern Europe. I was telling them about my experience being an American dyke overseas and how I was ‘read’ by others… which was everything but as a lesbian.
I started my travels in Poland and 4 months later ended up at the southern tip of Croatia. And never, not once, did anyone from these regions guess or assume that I was a lesbian… My blue eyes and (short faux hawked) blonde hair received a lot of attention from men in Hungary especially. I had never had so many free drinks offered, let alone the offers to dance and once of marriage as I did by the men in Budapest on one single Saturday night.
I went out dancing with a crowd from the hostel where I was staying. This crowd included 3 incredibly gorgeous women from South America. All three were stunningly attractive and quite feminine looking… but I was blond. And as it went that night- short blond boi dyke trumped tall, dark, sexy South American woman.
One by one, and a few times two or three men would come over to our table and ask me to dance. Flattered and uninterested I would answer, “no thank you.” Some of them would hang around to chat with me for a bit.
It was always a lot of the same sweet and entertaining back and forth that went like this:
“You have beautiful eyes!”
“You have beautiful hair! Why so short?”
“Where are you from?”
“You don’t have a guess?”
“Oh sure, you are Swedish girl.”
“No, not Swedish.”
“Well then, tell me your name.”
“My name is jesse.”
“Oh jesse, what a beautiful name. Nice to meet you jesse.”
“Uh huh, nice to meet you too.”
“So jesse, why don’t you want to dance with me? You are married? Have a male friend? You don’t like the dancing?”
“No, no, I just don’t feel like dancing, that’s all.”
“Will you dance with my friend?”
“Is your friend a girl?”
“Ha ha ha… no.”
“Um, no thank you.”
“You are stubborn, yes? Strong woman, yes?”
“Oh jesse, I know you! I know who you are.”
(still smiling and quite amused) “Oh ya? What do you know?”
You are Gerrrman girl, no? Yes!! You are Geerrrman! Ha ha! Strong Geeerrrman woman. Ha ha ha!”
(bigger smile) “No, no. I’m not German… I’m gay.”
(pausing with genuine curiosity) “I don’t know where is Gay.”
(completely charmed) “That’s alright… do you still feel like dancing?”
The South American girls ditched me – I would have too.