Oh, you must know... No I don’t.  I’m just telling you now.  There is some major misconception happening out there in the world.

Just because I’m a lesbian, apparently I KNOW every other lesbian, not just in my suburb or my territory but in the world.

All too often, this is such a common story.  I’ll be having a conversation.  It’s actually going along like every other conversation.  Talking about the weather, about work or about the MX5 that blocked me in when it was double parked outside my local IGA and made me half an hour late for a really important meeting – like seriously there were about fifty other car-parks, why park there?  Why park behind me?  But I digress… and then it happens.

A comment by you, or an awakening by them, the moment where they realise I’m a lesbian.  I can see it coming, but through no force that I possess can I prevent those words coming out of their mouth:

“Oh I know a lesbian, (insert random and suitably appropriate lesbian name here); they live down your way.” Or, “I met a lesbian from Timbuktoo once, her name was *****.”

Seriously, on what planet do they think that I would not only know a lesbian from Timbuktoo, but that I would know their lesbian from Timbuktoo?

Nothing I can do about it now, but politely mention I don’t know that person, brush it off and wait for the next day—oh yes I expect that it will happen again!