thelesbianlifestyle.com

It seems so long ago, yet just yesterday. I was floundering in a “marriage” to a man determined to drink himself to death, and trying to raise a teenaged daughter who was determined to put me in an early grave. To top it off, I was internally exploring, and beginning to seriously consider, the feelings towards women that I had had all my life.

A (straight) work friend had asked me if I would be interested in joining a women’s group that she was trying to start. I was most definitely interested. I had lived in this place for over 5 years, and really did not have one friend that I associated with outside of work. It was feeling like my early childhood all over again, and it wasn’t comfortable. I missed the friends I had left behind in Atlanta. I missed hanging out with “the girls”. So, after several of us met a couple of times, we, all 3 of us, decided that it would be fun to go whitewater rafting on the Arkansas River, about 50 miles west of where we lived.

So there we were, 3 decidedly middle aged woman, waiting to find out which boat we were going to be in, getting a lesson in raft safety from Her. She was tall, lean, and fit. She wore only water shorts and a sports bra, her long hair tied back. As she came up to get a volunteer from the group of prospective rafters, I noticed that she sported a small gold labrys around her neck. She saw me looking at her necklace, and my eyes flew up to hers, and I felt my eyebrows rise in recognition. I knew. She knew. We knew. There was only a brief smile from Her, and then she was all business again, giving us our safety lesson, and all the folks were distributed out to the rafts.

I was not in Her raft, but that was all right. I had seen a Lesbian, identified same, and been recognized by Her. It was probably one of the biggest steps I had taken towards my coming out, at least to myself, to date. I remember the raft trip down the river in the hot summer sun as one of the best days of my life.

Afterwards, when we had come off the rapids, drenched, chilled, and exhilarated, we all clambered onto the bus for the ride back to our starting point. My two friends were sharing a seat in the front, and all the ones around them were taken, so I went to the back and sat in an empty seat. Shortly after, She got on, and seeing me with no seat partner, came and sat down beside me. We made introductions and just chatted briefly. We talked about travel, about how She came to be a river raft guide, what She did in the off season, good “family” places to stay in various places in the region. I felt like I had come home. I can’t explain what it was like, to be acknowleged as “one of us”. It was warm, wonderful, and deliciously scary, all at the same time.

All too soon, we were back at “basecamp” and changing into our dry, post rafting outfits. I had made a big batch of beef jerky before we left, so I brought out the bag, and began sharing it out to all the guides, including Her, in thanks for a job well done. She smiled and seemed just a little bit surprised that I could make really good jerky.

Later, I sent Her a thank you card, and She called me one afternoon at work, and we had a very nice chat. She mentioned Her girlfriend, and I admitted to my sinking marriage, but again, it was heart-throbbing, breath-stopping to answer the phone and realize that I had made enough of an impression to prompt a phone call. It gave me hope. It made me think that if I could be brave enough, strong enough, ME enough to end the sham of a marriage, to deal with my troubled child without dying or killing her in the attempt, that maybe one day I could actually meet a good woman and have something real with her.

We haven’t been in touch since then, but I still follow Her career online. She’s an amazing woman, and there will always be a soft spot in my heart that only belongs to Her.

GG