Pretend Their Names Are Greta and Ann, Part 1.

A few years ago, I joined one of those free dating sites. When I decided to slowly share with others that I found myself attracted to women, I simply listed on the bottom of my profile that I was interested in people who were interested in bisexual women.

Within about a week, I got a message from a woman whose name we’ll pretend is Greta. Greta thinks I have gorgeous eyes, and she has thought-provoking questions for me related to the contents of my dating profile! Greta was so promising! She worked in one of the helping professions, which I adored, because I was planning to go to school for nursing, and I’ll swoon all day long over someone who lives to help others. Greta seemed eight kinds of delightful, and we soon started tossing around the idea of meeting.

I worked up the nerve to also message a woman named Ann. (Rule number 1 of online dating is to message as many people as you can. I think. Actually, rule number 1 probably has a great deal more to do with safety. This might be worth a google later.) Ann is just lovely to behold. Think Gwyneth Paltrow meets Jennifer Aniston, with a profile detailing work serving others, an inclusive view of Christianity, and a handful of witticisms that I no longer recall. Ann chatted with me, and we soon started talking about meeting up.

Schedules aligned in such a way that I was able to meet with Ann before ever meeting with Greta. Ann knew about a coffee shop I’d never heard of, so we met there. She wore mustard yellow gloves she’d made herself. They were modeled after Alice Cullen’s gloves from Twilight, she shared. We had a really cool conversation during which we talked about kids (two each), religion (PCUSA, baby!). her work, which made her seem super human, and my schooling plans.

Oh, and she was close friends with Greta. So, Ann had to keep everything platonic with me because of Greta. They’d discussed it ahead of time and decided.

They had discussed it. Between the two of them. “Who’s going to date her?”

They came to a conclusion…and that’s not even the end of the story.


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