Not Your Everyday Lesbian
I have kept my sexual proclivities quiet and private for the most part. In this day and age it is easy to go on line when you are lonely and find something to ring your chimes. I figure with all the headaches and entanglements of relationships why try anymore? Perhaps it is my age, I am no longer naïve, and am quite worldly I suppose. Searching for the long term love of my life seems hopeless, so I am slowly adapting to a solitary life. Perhaps I am lazy, perhaps a realist but I have tried so many failed relationships and am quite frankly tired of the hurt and disappointment. I know, I know, if it always fails, you have to consider the source, perhaps it is my fault? I do, I am not blameless but it seems that each new relationship builds like a wildfire and then the flames go out, leaving just the property damage. My final desperate leap of faith was to blame the USA, perhaps I could be happier in another country, and perhaps the women there will be different? My life is in pretty good shape, so I made a decision to head to Europe for an extended stay, since I have always heard the European women are sexually freer than the uptight American women. I took a sabbatical from the university, for one year and bought a plane ticket to Sweden. Why Sweden, well I have always liked the full bodied blond look but upon research, found the majority of Swedish women to be brunettes and nice looking. It was a starting point anyway; I had every intention to sample the faire across the continent. If this sounds like a midlife crisis, I would not deny it, I am in a sexual crisis and I am approaching mid life. The plane flight was many hours, so I splurged and bought a first class ticket. After two glasses of champagne, the Swedish Air flight attendants did seem very exotic and quite appealing, but eventually I fell asleep and missed most of the flight experience. I do have a weakness for foreign accents, perhaps because my family traveled a lot as a child. When I was awakened, there was a very buxom blond flight attendant nearly whispering in my ear, to fasten my seatbelt and prepare for landing. She was quite kind and smelled magnificent. I looked around in a state of embarrassment, to see if I had caused a scene, as the content of my dreams drifted back. I was off in a world of free sexual encounters with no limits with one or two or sometimes a roomful of female partners. I think my face was flushed still, I finally got dragged back to reality at immigration. I spent two weeks in Sweden, researching the lesbian hang outs on line by day and haunting a new one each night. I was a tad disappointed, realizing that my expectations had been high and perhaps I needed to acclimate to the European culture before I would fit in. Finally I took out a map of Europe and spread it out on the hotel bed , I closed my eyes, poked a finger downward and opened my eyes, it was dead center on Hungry. Early the next morning, I checked out of the Hotel and bought a train ticket to Hungry, with no expectations and no idea what the language would be or what the women would look like. I wore a nice, but simple dress on the train, not wanting to look like the American tourist I was. The disguise seemed to work because several people, sadly mostly men, asked me questions in foreign languages, before I had to admit I was an English only speaker. The passengers seemed to be a mix of many countries but as we made stops, the riders coalesced into what I assumed were Hungarians. Many seemed poor and the women I noticed did not hold leg and arm pit shaving in high regard, most seemed to being riding the train out of necessity, not for adventure or a change of attitude. Oh well a romance on a train was a passing fantasy anyway, so I settled in and decided to take in the scenery. Trees and farmland zipped past my window, giving me glimpses of Hungarian countryside. With out my notice, I heard a rustling in my compartment and turned to find a new companion that had slipped in while I was studying the countryside. I found my chest tight and my breathing difficult when I focused on her. Sitting across from me was a five foot five brunette with the most complimentary short and sassy hairdo, followed by a long neck, wide shoulders and ample breast. Unlike other passengers she was well dressed and extremely well groomed, be still my heart. Her legs were shapely, her shoes fashionable and her skirt revealing way more leg than was safe in front of my sex starved eyes. After a quick smile, I returned my focus to the countryside until I could get my breath and regroup. Telling myself that there is no way she is gay or even bi, I was able to let my muscles relax and fresh air came back to my lungs. Still forcing myself to look out the window, despite my desire to undress her with my eyes, I launched into a familiar mental argument. She is so gorgeous; there is not a chance we can hook up, besides she is most likely straight. On the other hand if I don't take a chance how will I know? I will just get disappointed so why try? This cycle of insecurity went on for five grueling minutes, until my maturity reminded me I don't have that many prime years left. So suck it up and start a conversation. The worst that will happen is she will get off the train and I will have a memory to carry in my mind.