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Red Sneakers and a closeted Lesbian

by | Mar 18, 2021 | Damn Irrelevant Self, my damn self | 0 comments

My love and I

“Does everything taste good?”, I hear a sultry voice ask a corner table several feet away. I am sitting at a local pizza establishment. I look over, involuntarily searching for the owner of the voice; this voice which rings of kindness and playfulness. I’m delighted to find this particular voice matches it’s owner upon first impression.


Surprisingly, I noticed her bright red sneakers first. I feel further intrigued. She seems adorable. She postures her body in an unthreatening stance. My gaze travels upwards from her sneakers and lingers around her hips. I stare a second too long. I have to peel my eyes away from her hips with conscious effort.

Shit, Karissa. I curse myself. I feel my body flush. A quick warmth starts from my core and quickly radiates heat waves through my extremities. I quickly look away feeling flushed.

I peer into the faces of those sitting around my table. I’m looking for a clue that I’m caught, recognition of my flushed face plastered behind a set of eyes. Nothing.

Lucky me. My heart feels lighter. Crisis averted tonight. My parents are lost in a happy chatter with their friends, all oblivious to my self-absorbed lesbian cravings. I space out to calm my nerves. I do this often, space out. I find my in between space. A space of muted awareness to avoid the overstimulation of reality. I Zen. I breathe. I realize I’m still in a crowded pizza parlor; and I’m still a closeted lesbian.

Nobody knows you’re a lesbian

I pep talk myself as I stare down at the crumb filled carpet. My stomach knots for a second. Nobody except…My thoughts are interrupted abruptly as I see her red sneakers walking towards our table.

My brain is acutely aware of her presence nearing me. I look up and sneak a glance. Damn. The quick warmth crushes over my core once again. My heart thuds like a preteen boy in my chest.

Karissssssa! I am irritated with my own urges. You are twenty eight years old! You have seen a woman before. You have got to get it together. STOP LOOKING AT HER.

I glance up again. My eyes refuse to listen to my brain. She’s at a table closer to ours. She is interacting with guests and seemingly unaware of me studying her. I decide to take advantage of my opportunity with little remorse.


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