At the time, I frequented a certain goth club in midtown, so I mentioned that my Friday plans were set. She suggested we meet at The Sidewalk Cafe before hitting the club, which was probably so she didn't have to venture into the cavern of cloves, synth dreads, and ennui alone while wearing jeans and Uggs (sigh, I know).She invited herself along, and although I was apprehensive about bringing a "normal" girl out with me, I figured this was my shot to do something I hadn't done before — have a real date with a woman. She bought me a beer and asked me some questions about myself.As a teenager, I was occasionally attracted to girls, but was drawn to relationships with the opposite sex.
What happened to girl power and Spice Girls unity and vagina solidarity stuff, I wondered?"It would be so much easier to just go out with girls," they would declare with false confidence."I'm so over dudes, anyway." Although these comments made sexual attraction seem like a calculated choice and completely diminished the complexity of queer relationships, they piqued my interest nonetheless.She was cute and funny and seemed into me, but because of her gender, I was still curious.Was this a friend-date, even though we had made out before? Was I just some kind of exotic weirdo or novelty item to her?