Lunch Time Natter

I’m apparently a fiery character. I know it myself, sometimes my temper gets the better of me and I rant and rage in a most terrifying manner. And yet I am really rather restrained, but mainly because of cowardice.

Today at lunch I foresaw the conversation getting onto dicey ground – men (or more specifically boyfriends). It seems to be a girl thing to compare them over egg and onion sandwiches, before competing to see which is the most romantic/boring/rich etc. Oh and of course, how many men we have all kissed. As a closeted lesbian, I find this most unjust. I just cannot compete in their stories of which boyfriend scored the most tries in rugby, because I don’t have one.

So I sit there and feel ugly. I think they regard me as the ugly boyfriend-less one of the group. If they took time to look up they’d realise I ain’t looking. However, if it makes them feel better about themselves, yes, I’m the ugly virgin.

This is when the little tantrum queen takes the stand. Clearly my women are JUST as romantic, and could probably score JUST as many tries in rugby. The number of men I have kissed if meagre, however if we talk about women I could give three of them put together a run for their money. I find myself bursting to come out with this, for a split second I want to be ‘one of the girls’. And then I remember, they are small-minded, small-headed idiots who couldn’t truly compare a lesbian relationship with there own.

So I sit there and feel ugly.