I totally just click-baited you with that title, didn’t I? Obviously a city can’t make you gay. But Prague has helped me remember that I totally am. I’ve always been gay. I just have a bad memory, and I get distracted easily.
I first realized I liked women when I was in college. I used to get those little butterflies around certain people. And being the kind of person I am, my attitude was very laid back about it. “Cool, I guess I dig chicks.” Meanwhile, my attitude towards men has always been pretty much the same. I think they’re really needy, and my relationships were always superficial until I got bored, or they did something worthy of cutting them off.
If left to my own devices, I only ever like and pursue women without having to be dragged kicking and screaming into a romantic entanglement by a guy who is simply persistent. So how did I end up living with a man? And why have I continued to date them since? The short answer is because I’m the worst lesbian ever.
The long answer is that several years ago, I was madly in love with a woman who lived in another state. And for many reasons, everything about that was difficult and painful. But it didn’t matter, because I was crazy about her. So I put up with the complications and sorrow until I was a shell of a person, and I couldn’t anymore. After I was finally over her (for the most part), I didn’t want to become invested in another woman. It was far too much of an emotional risk. So I did the easy thing; I began dating men again.
More specifically, I began seeing a man who was married. Why would I ever do that? Besides the fact that I get easily wrapped up in anything that I think will make a great story? To be brutally honest, I wanted to emotionally destroy him, because I knew he was already cheating on his wife of 10 years with someone else. So I let myself get involved with him, not because I wanted a relationship or even sex; I did it because I wanted to ruin his life.
And I think I did that pretty successfully. He gave up his wife (and his mistress), his house, his dogs, and lost a good handful of friends to be with me. And then he lost me, too. Because even after all that, he still couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. That gave me the opportunity to destroy the last thing he had left: his reputation. I got to expose him for the fraud that he is. And #SorryIAintSorry for any of it.
So how could I fall for someone that I had so much disdain for in the first place? Besides the fact that he was great in bed, (and I hope his new girlfriend puts a Master Lock on that dick before she lets him leave the house) he literally gave me the world. He put more effort into being with me than any person ever has. And it’s hard not to develop feelings for someone who is so generous, tenacious, and frankly, obsessed with you. I know it’s not a great reason to love someone, but I’m not a perfect person. And I loved him because of how much he loved me and all the grand ways in which he showed it.
When that ended and I felt ready to date again, I was here in Prague. And I was meeting a lot of wonderful people (mostly men), which was very eye-opening because they’ve definitely raised the bar for all other men. That’s the great thing about traveling and living abroad for a while. When you stay in the same place your whole life, you assume that everything is supposed to be the way it is there. But it isn’t. It can be so much better.
And dating these great guys was awesome at first, but it put in me in a situation where I had to really analyze some things about myself. See, it’s easy to be callous and dismissive of men when you live in a city like Miami where all men are assholes, and the ones who don’t seem like assholes are the biggest ones. So I have no qualms about stringing someone like that along if I have nothing better to do.
But the men in Prague (and surrounding areas) are really wonderful, honest, and good guys. They have shown me nothing but respect, loyalty, and kindness. They do all the wonderful things that I think people should do when they care about someone, and sometimes much, much more. They put in effort, they’re selfless, and they’re endlessly patient and understanding.
And yet, if I really stopped to think about it, I could take them or leave them. Like all the men that came before, I was never the one in pursuit of a relationship. I was never the one making the dinners or planning the dates. I was just present for them. And eventually all the nice gestures and gifts and attention would get suffocating, like it always does. Because ultimately, it’s always one-sided. My real feelings never seem to catch up to my mind’s appreciation for a man who knows how to treat a woman.
I’ve always made men justify to me why I should care about them. And many of them have, which is why I’ve always been treated very well (God help you if you don’t). So I have a long list of reasons why I’ve invested time and effort in any man: He takes me on beautiful dates. He cooks. He gives great massages. He gives great gifts. He’s really clean and put together. He has a great job. He will go to the ends of the earth if I ask him to.
And all those things are wonderful, but those shouldn’t be prerequisites for me to return your texts. And though I am extremely picky, when I’ve met the right girl, she doesn’t need to do a damn thing.
Because the truth about attraction is that when it’s there, you don’t need a list of reasons. In fact, attraction is often hard to explain. It’s like asking me why I like chocolate. Because I think it’s fucking awesome, that’s why.
And all the male sweetness I’ve been surrounded by in Prague has made me realize that my attraction to men has always been logical, not emotional. It’s incentivized by their behavior. But my attraction to women is instinctual, undeniable, and needs no justification.
I think we can all agree that I can be a real cunt if you deserve it. But these sweet European guys really, really don’t. So I forced myself to stop seeing men altogether. Because I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings or waste anyone’s time. And I don’t want to settle for what’s easy to get (sorry, boys, but you are). I want someone who lights a fire in me. I want a person that wants me but doesn’t need me, someone who makes me want them for who they are without having to do anything at all. In other words, I want a hot independent bitch who can kill me with her smile.
It’s actually been quite difficult because being a lesbian is not easy. We don’t have many avenues of meeting other women like heterosexual couples and gay men do. The few times I’ve been to a gay bar in Prague, I’ve been forced to buy an $8 card to get in while my gay male friend skips right inside without so much as a look. We jokingly call it my lesbian card. Even in a place that is progressive and full of people of different sexualities like Prague, they make it pretty hard for us.
But all the trouble and effort is worth it when you meet a girl that you really like. Because there is nothing like that feeling. Where I’m actually nervous about what I might say on a date, and I go to bed wondering when I’m going to see her again. Where I’m thinking about making her breakfast instead of just enjoying someone else’s homemade pancakes and eggs. It’s a feeling I’m just now realizing I hadn’t felt in like 5 years… since I was last interested in a woman. And as much as I love being the object of someone else’s obsessive affection and worship, it’s much better to be on this side.
That’s not to say I didn’t enjoy the time I spent with the men I’ve dated. Every man I’ve dated was wonderful in his own way. We were always compatible and shared common interests. It was always fun, intellectually stimulating, and hilarious. But that’s just a checklist of justifications. You can have all those things and still not have love and romance.
And though it’s been a while, I’m finally remembering what that’s supposed to be like. It’s super homo and terrifying and awesome.