Useless Girls: A Short Love Story

Hey there! In honour of Pride Month, I’ve decided to write a little queer romance for you. If you didn’t know, I am myself bisexual, so this story draws a little on experience, although these are completely fictional characters and events. I hope you enjoy.

(and yes, all girls in beanies are cute)



“Hey girl, you cute!”

“Aww thanks girl, you too!”

That’s not what I meant. Blue beanie and black dungaree shorts walks straight past with a flash of a smile on a freckled face – goddammit Alex, pull yourself together. You can’t fall in love with every girl who wears  beanie.


I pick myself up off the bench with a sigh, chuck an old coffee cup into a bin on my way to the library. I mean, she should have known – red plaid, black jeans, short hair, big boots – lesbian Katy (not to be confused with straight Katy) agrees that I just look. So. Gay. So she must have known what I meant, right? Right?

It had been hard enough when I’d had first met lesbian Katy and fallen head over heels in love with her – had she been wearing a beanie? It had taken a while for the feelings to drop to a simmering crush. But lesbian Katy was going out with Pink (who had pink hair), and I was never gonna attempt to disrupt someone who had actually managed to talk to a girl. And, like, talk talk.

Another sigh, headphones in, notes out. And it was back to work and idle daydreaming for me.



“Hey girl, you cute!”

Red plaid was talking to me, excited eyes behind thick-rimmed nerd glasses, gosh she was cute.

“Aww thanks, you too!”

I walked away quickly to hide my blush, adjusting the hem of my shorts – were they too short? Red plaid seemed to like them. What had she meant?  I mean she looked gay, but that didn’t mean she was, and anyway, maybe she was just one of these people who liked complimenting people. It had made me feel good… But maybe she meant cute cute, maybe she meant more than cute, and maybe I hadn’t been the only one looking at purple-lipsticked lips…

Enough. It was useless, thinking like that. Wishful thinking.

I got on the bus, paid the driver, sat across from pink hair and grey beanie – now beanies, they made girls cute, nearly as much as plaid. Maybe pink hair was…? Ah. White-blond and yellow top got on at the next stop, and a ‘hey, Katy!’ and a quick kiss clearly showed that she was, and, alas, taken.

All the hot girls were either straight or taken.

And all the hot boys were jerks.

With a sigh, I got out my phone, headphones in, staring out the window. And it was back to idle daydreaming for me.



“… and she said I looked cute, but did she mean, like cute cute? Did she mean cute like ‘I like your top’ or cute like ‘I want to push you against a wall and kiss your face off’? Because I would much rather it was the second…”

Poor Alex. She was having a hard time with work, and was totally not hiding that she was jealous of my relationship with Pink.  There was nothing I could do though, I didn’t know any more queer girls who weren’t already her friends.

“Did you get her name? I could look her up on Facebook?”

“No, because that would have been a useful thing to do, and I am a useless lesbian!”

Alex groaned and flopped back down on my quilt, staring at the ceiling.

“Why are girls so difficult Katy?”

“You’re a girl,” I replied, bringing up the university lgbt society page on my laptop, “just say what you’d want a girl to say to you.”

“I called her cute.”

“And she called you cute.” I scrolled through the list of members.

“Yeah, but what did she mean?” she groaned.

“Look, do you recognize any of these?” I turned the laptop screen to face her. She looked through the list biting her lip.

“Well it’s not her but she’s cute… There! Oh my gosh she is! She’s g-a-a-a-y! Praise the lord!”

“What’s her name?”

“Cindy, she’s even got the bi flag on her profile picture – oh.”

“What’s wrong?” Her face had fallen.

“I’m probably never going to see her again.”

Alex left later, and I chatted with Pink for a while on my phone before heading to bed. Alex really was a useless lesbian.



It was the next day, and I’d nearly forgotten about cute red plaid from the day before, when I saw her, siting on the same bench as before, earphones in. Should I talk to her? Probably not… no, it was best not to. She probably didn’t like girls anyway. I slowed down my walking, hoping she’d look up. I bent down to tie my perfectly tied shoelace, when I heard

“Hey, cute!”

I looked up. Red plaid – no, green plaid today, but still black jeans and big boots and thick nerd glasses was standing shyly next to me.

“Hey yourself.”

An awkward silence fell between us, thick with questions, an ‘are you…?’ hanging in the air.



“I was wondering if, erm, you might like to – maybe, I don’t know… got get coffee with me? Only I was about to start revising, but I need that caffeine, you know?”

“Yeah,” I smiled, “sure I would.”

“Oh, really?” She sounded surprised.

“Yeah,” I laughed, and awkwardly, we walked off. But I was still wondering… Did she mean coffee? Or coffee?

Perhaps I’d never know.

2 thoughts on “Useless Girls: A Short Love Story

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