Back in 2010, I was promoted at work. The Area Manager used me to cover other sites across the North West area – one of which, Manchester Lowry, I covered a few times.
On one of the visits I met a girl called Adriana, who started had started fairly recently. End of one close down, we’re being particularly flirty with one another, and I figure – why the Hell not?
So, I walk her home (missing the last metrolink home along the way!) and the flirting continues. We end up kissing at a random bus stop near to her house, although we go no further than that.
Next time I see her, I say something along the lines of “I’m your boss – it’s not right that I should be dating a staff member” Whatever, it’s all yada yada in my memory now.
Adriana has no idea of her significance, mind.
She’s the last girl I’ve kissed.
Yep, there hasn’t been anybody since.
That’s not through a lack of trying, of course…
The closest attachment I’ve felt with a girl since then happened fairly recently. Her name is Naomi, and something fairly cruel happened between me and her.
She comes into the cinema where I work giving out score cards for films, and I see her every few months. Thiis one weekend back in July or August she comes in, and we get chatting, and it’s going great. I’m feeling top of the world, and tell the other managers.
Fast forward a week, and she’s back in again – only I’m busy away in Manchester. I get a text of one of my colleagues, telling me that they’ve spoken to Naomi…
… And she outed herself as a lesbian!
I’m taken aback, because there were no signs, and more than a little devastated about it. I tell myself over and over that I have to get over her, because I’ve no choice – there’s no way anything can come of it now.
I beg my colleague to tell me he’s joking, and that it’s all a ruse. Over and over again he repeats that he’s serious about it; Naomi is most definitely a lesbian.
Weeks pass. We enter September. I tell the story of me and Naomi to other managers, and they have a laugh and a giggle at my expense. I don’t mind – I’m only telling them myself, to lessen the damage for when the (inevitably) here the news for themselves.
One of the managers approaches me last week and says, actually, having spoken to the other manager involved, it’s all a joke. Meaning:
Naomi is NOT a lesbian.
Trouble is, now, of course, I’ve spent weeks shutting her out – telling myself that I’m not attracted to her, and that’s some hard feelings to overcome.
The joke worked, only too well.
It raises the question of when it’ll happen for me next. Obviously I’ve no idea – but I’d kill to know! Surely there’s a magical somebody out there waiting for me?
I imagine in my head it’ll play out How I Met Your Mother – a story I’ll sit down and tell the kids in years to come. Reality is, though, I’m not all that confident about romance and its ploys anymore. I think what will eventually happen will be an accident. I won’t plan for it, and it probably won’t be all that romantic. Best bet, I think, is one day I’ll fall for a friend – somebody who, I didn’t quite realise, I have fallen for.
Love today? Pfft. Not a chance.
But at least not all women are lesbian!