I look around my garden. “Shu, who are you yelling at?”
“Some guy on the street. Staring like he’s never heard the words ‘bleed’ and ‘vagina’ before.”
“Where are you right now?”
“Outside work.”
“So, the middle of Liverpool Street?”
“Yeah,” she says. “Anyway, we bleed for five days every month and don’t die. Statistically, we outlive men, too. Do you know how much blood I’ve lost since puberty? I’m on my period today and went for a run this morning. A run, when my uterus is ripping itself to pieces. Then I came into work. Maddie, if a man came into work with blood running down his leg or out of his dick, the boss would say ‘A&E or home? Which do you want?’ I’m fucking superhuman.”
“It’s hard to argue with that, Shu.”
“Plus, we look and smell better.”
Who does Alex think smells better? Or is it like having cake and eating it too （a phrase I’ve never understood because what else would you do with cake?） and he gets to be with nice-smelling women and handy-with-tools men?
If you were a real feminist, you’d be good with tools, too.
Or are these all stereotypes and not only am I not a feminist, I’m sexist?
“Were you ever bi, then?” I ask. “Was there maybe an intersection, a space of time, right before you became a full-time lesbian?”
“I kind of went right there, to be honest. Being bi just wasn’t my vibe, no shade. Love who you want and all of that. What is this, a research project? Mads, are you bi?”
“We’re all a little bi, Shu.”
“Fuck off.”
“Okay, I’m not. Women are nicer to look at, but I don’t think I’d want to deal with two vaginas when one requires such maintenance as it is, you know?”
“No,” she says. “Your time’s up. Bye, Mads.”
She ends the call.
* * *
On Saturday I spend two hours getting ready before accepting that jeans （the second pair I tried on since the first don’t fit me anymore） and a red jumper are as good as it’s going to get.
When I arrive at the Scandinavian-style coffee shop that smells of warm butter, sugar, and cinnamon, Alex is at a table by the window. He stands when he sees me and smiles. Thankfully, he looks like he took his profile picture this morning. Exactly as advertised. His brown hair is swept back and he has on Converse, jeans, and a plain white tee.
“Hello, Maddie. Glad you could make it,” he says—deep and friendly with the slightest American lilt.
We sit and on his table is a pot of tea, two cups, a Danish pastry for him and a brownie for me.
I point to the brownie. “How did you know I wouldn’t stand you up?”
“I only hoped you wouldn’t and told myself that if you did, I would eat your brownie as consolation.” He smiles again. Or maybe he hasn’t stopped smiling? “It’s nice to properly meet you. You’re very pretty.”
“Oh, thank you.” I try not to look away. “You’re also very … the male version of pretty.”
He laughs. “I think that’s handsome,” he says, “but I’ll take pretty. Can I get you a coffee or anything?”
“I don’t mind some of your tea.”
“This is green tea,” he says, pouring himself a cup. “Have you had it before?”
“No, but happy to try it.” As he pours me a cup, I say, “You didn’t bring your dog?”
“I should have, but I thought I’d save him in case I needed help securing a second date.”
I smile at him and try green tea for the first time. It’s a little bitter but instantly warming.
“So, how have you been?” he asks.
My face falls and I brace myself before remembering that Alex doesn’t actually know how I should be feeling.
“Pretty good,” I answer. I tell him about Love Stories and make up a spontaneous evening bike ride for last night. He asks what I’ve got planned for the rest of my weekend. I offer him half my brownie while I think of something interesting to say. I come up short so end up sharing a lie.
“Tomorrow my friend Em and I are going for brunch in Highbury,” I tell him, “but today I’m just going to pop home to say hi to the parents, then my friend’s having a barbecue at her place. Which reminds me, I don’t want to turn up empty-handed, so I should remember to go to the shops and pick up a few bits. What about you?”
“Well, it’s my sister’s baby shower tomorrow, but tonight I might foist myself on my flatmates—they’re going to catch a movie.”
If I’d been honest about not doing much, would he have asked to extend this date?
“I haven’t been to the cinema since…” Ben. “In a long time,” I finish.
“Is this your first time online dating?” Alex asks.
“Ouch. Is it that obvious?”
“I promise it’s not. I’ve just heard the cinema tends to be a good online-to-real-world date option.”
“It is my first time,” I admit. “I’ve always been hesitant, but one night I decided to just go for it. You?”
“I’m a couple of weeks old now.”
“Any success stories?”
“Besides you?”
I roll my eyes. “Smooth.” I drink my tea to hide the smile.
“Let me think…，” he says. “I’ve been on two dates before this one. I met a girl for an hour in the park, but it didn’t work out. We didn’t have a lot to talk about. Last week’s date we just went to lunch, but yeah, he was nice.”
I jerk back at the “he” but collect myself. Yes, Alex is bi. You knew that.
“Did me saying ‘he’ throw you?”
Shit, he can read minds? ABORT. ABORT.
“No.”
He laughs. “It did! That’s okay. If you’ve never dated someone who’s bi, it can be jarring, like a sudden car brake.”
That’s exactly how it felt.
“What is it like being bi?” I ask. “Oh. Sorry, I didn’t…”
“Don’t be sorry,” he says. “You can ask me because I’m happy to answer. It was tough at first because I asked myself all the questions: Does a sex dream prove anything? Is it a phase? Who will I marry? I also had to challenge a lot of the normative constructs around being a man since I am ‘outside the norm.’”
“Do you meet a lot of bisexual people on the app?”
“Not really, no,” he says. “Which is a shame. Right now, I get asked about my sex life a lot. The word ‘threesome’ has entered multiple chats. Some gay men don’t take me seriously and some women doubt my motives. To the uneducated, bi-erasure is prevalent and bisexuality is just a pit stop. Gay is the green light and I’ve stopped at yellow.” Note to self: Google “bi-erasure.” “To them it’s kind of like, I can’t be both; depending on who I marry, I’m either straight or gay. I used to just put ‘queer’ on my profile, but I felt I was hiding myself a bit.”
I think of the messages I’ve gotten from men. They all started off innocuously enough, questions about my job and hobbies, but eventually the topic of conversation would land on my skin tone, my body shape, and my perceived sexual prowess.