The last month and a half has seen a bit of a change in direction for my life. A change I never ruled out, but never went looking for, it just happened.

Over the weekend though, for the first time in the last six weeks, I was feeling a little uneasy. Not out of fear, but I think more a realisation that it was actually happening, and the joyous dream I had been living was also happening in real life. The thing that pinched me was Daylesford.

Ok, I’ll back up a little here. I’m currently dating another woman, which I guess makes me a lesbian, but I’m not sure that label fits really. Not that there is anything wrong with that (tick), I rather see myself as being in love. It just happens to be that the person I am in love with, happens to be the same gender as me. We have joked that this puts me on my lesbian L plates, and as such there is a lot I have to learn about dating a woman. I have to admit I am keen to learn, and she is a good teacher. We have joked around that in order for me to get off my L plates, and on to my P plates, there are quite a few boxes I have to tick, euphemism and otherwise.

So far the list has included listening to an Indigo Girls album, making use of a wok, holding hands in public, kissing in public, calling her my girlfriend, and watching A Room In Rome. One thing we hadn’t done yet was to go to Daylesford, or as she called it DayLESford, for a day out in the country.

When we got there, the first parking spot we found faced a store called Can’t Think Straight, which had a nice big rainbow flag above the door. Nothing against the shop, but I think that’s when it really hit that I wasn’t just dating a wonderful girl, but I was entering in to a bit of a new world. A world I knew of, was comfortable with and had had a lot of interaction with through my life, but now I was IN the world. I have to admit I was a little bit freaked out, but that may have had something to do with having motion sickness, and having just screamed out the lyrics to Bohemian Rhapsody before hitting the town limits.

Thinking about this all now, I’m not ashamed at all, and nor should I feel ashamed. Well actually I guess I feel a little ashamed that I felt the way I did at the time. Maybe it was because I had been joking about pandering to stereotypes, and here I was doing them. I really don’t know, and I don’t care either. I’m happy, the girl’s happy, and woe betide anyone who stops us.