Don't mess with Her! Extreme Loyalty In Lesbian Circles

I’ve been ‘getting to know better’ a certain female individual. As a result she invites me to a house party of lesbians she knows. Always eager to meet some new faces I agree to go.

“They’ll think I’m your girlfriend” I point out.

“It’s OK” she tells me. “I’ll just correct them and say were just having some ‘fun times together”.

We arrive and the party’s in full swing with about 25 lesbians chatting, smoking and drinking, spread throughout the lower ground floor of the house and garden. It’s clear immediately that everyone has been acquainted for years and has long histories together. I’m feeling relieved to be at a party where I don’t know anyone (though a couple of the faces are familiar) and where my ‘lesbian chart’ is not public knowledge.  

Following polite introductions and a drink handed to each of us, my 'fun time' companion is whisked off, I presume for the latest gossip on who I am.  No I’m not being big headed; it’s just what girls do! 

I relax as the alcohol kicks in and chat to those I’m left in the kitchen with. I could begin to unearth some of the connections,  as I’d put money on being ‘linked’ to someone here, but am enjoying the two way anonymity beyond people’s names that’s not normally afforded to lesbians. I discover some work connections, and happily leave it at that. 

With latest updates on gossip secured, my ‘fun time’ companion returns along with fellow mates and the party continues long into the night, The alcohol free flowing, I get the opportunity to chat and dance with the friends who are all very welcoming and friendly. 

But underneath the joviality I detect a subtle undertone when my ‘fun time’ companion disappears out of ear shot. They get in close to speak to me above the noise of the music, and in emphasized words tell me,

“She is a great girl. We all love our ...”

I’m left uncertain whether they’re genuinely praising my ‘fun time’ companion for my benefit, or akin to the scene in My Big Fat Greek Wedding, where the brothers of the bride tell the groom that, if he ever screws up, he should expect an ass-kicking of epic proportions involving guns, ‘accidents’ and kidney extraction. 

We lock eyes and clink beer bottles in mutual acknowledgement that yes, she is a great girl, and (not wanting to take the risk on the latter) that should I do anything not considered acceptable, I will end up with the same fate as the groom in MBFGW. 

As we leave, they bid us both farewells. With a goodbye hug they turn to me,

“We’ll see you at the next party Susan” 

I heed the unspoken words .