Gaydar

Across the great electronic void, someone wrote that some are seeing straight girls as the new pink.
Since I was in high school, it's been kind of "in" to be bi. Kind of. Now, like some sort of chihuahua infestation, like some hail storm of kolor sunglasses, seems like every straight girl's gone gaga for the girls.
So.
What do we, the genuinely queer, do with this information?
It's dangerous waters, to be sure. All of a sudden, we're not safe to stare at that girl in the subway. All of a sudden... they're aware that we're looking, because, just out of curiosity, just in style, they're looking, too.
Now. I'm not one for us/them lingo. Seriously. I'm not. But I hate to say it, they're them. And you know who they are because you, being one of us, have a little thing called Gaydar. It's a damn useful skill, but now it's become even more vital.
I used to explain gaydar to my heterofriends as a sort of mere observational skill. I told them that all I did was "look at them looking, to see where they looked." But in times like these, if you want to prevent being a mere experiment, if you don't want to end up tossed aside like all those small curly-haired dogs and aviator sunglasses and socklike winter boots, one needs must tone the gaydar muscles.
Gaydar is not just about looking for looking. Gaydar is a whole body language. Gaydar is nails, hair, shoes, yes, but in the city, diversified and professional dykes are rampant! One can't just hope for converse and olive canvas. Besides, diversified and professional lesbians like ourselves might just not dig the hungry artsy student lezzer look. With increasing visibility, we've come out of the closet for a second time. Before, we married asexual men. Then we dressed like men. Then we dressed like the two queer characters on tv. In every sense we took a step towards being seen and tolerated and accepted. Now, it's such that we are expected at every street corner. Our businesses and schools use "partner" and read stories about "alternative families." This is all good news. Great news, really.
But, to be quite honest, it makes each other harder to find.
There was a time (HAH, as James Brown would say) when I was entirely willing to be the tested waters of youthful sexuasion. There was a time when I practically defined the territory. Hell, I was THE lesbian in my high school. Hell knows I had my fun with that. And with every girl who got a sense of freedom, with every girl who knew her body better for having been with me, I felt like some kinda superhero liberator. But now I'm here, 22, having just got out of a 2 year relationship with yet another woman who thought, maybe, yeah....but no.
There was a time when experimentation was both fun, interesting and admirable. But now. Now I know what I want. And I want somebody who knows what they want, too.
So. To the gaydarmobile, batmullet! Surely I've still got it. Right? It's just like riding a bike! Right?
But it's not. I've lost it, folks. The L Word and my past experiences have me practicing approach-avoidance like a kid scared of dogs. And it helps I work at Babies R Us, surrounded by pregnant women, and just praying (literally, to the gods of retail) to bring me two cute little adoptive fathers or, the best I've gotten so far, the lesbest friend of an expecting 30-something, and, sigh, her drop dead gorgeous life partner. There are no queers in Babies R Us. None that want to be there, anyway. There are far more moral and alt-friendly stores, and as many places as the gays can be these days, there's still places where we just aren't. And because I got this job while I was IN aforementioned relationship, one of those few places just happens to be where I am.
And here's the thing, here's the thing. It's just... I... I like girls with long hair, long legs, soft voices, chapsticked lips. I like girls who smell like some kinda tropical something-or-other, who paint their toenails (NOT their fingernails...I mean, really that would not work) and who obsess about hair products in a completely incomprehensible way. But at the same time, I like girls who can install light fixtures, heave a bike over their shoulders and climb the subway stairs, throw me up against a wall and make me sit funny the next day. I think... I think the confusing thing is the desire for duality within unity. I want someone who is completely different from me (for example, I do not paint my toenails, will never smell tropical and really, I could use 2-in-1 no name dandruff shampoo for the rest of my life and not notice) and yet miraculously the same (for example, I could toss you up against the wall and make you sit funny the next day, after we'd biked 30k across the city and eaten nothing but jamaican patties and banana cake). THAT....that is something gaydar can't see.
How are people ever happy, really? How do people find each other in this sea?
This was supposed to be a funny banter thing. It turned into a universal question.
Where is the right person? Is there one? How long will I stay lonely?

----------------
Now playing: James Brown - There Was a Time
via FoxyTunes