L texted me the next day, when I was at work, to ask how N was doing and if we were going to meet up for breakfast. N had little memory of the night before, but I was thrilled by this message; in an era before screenshots I wrote it down in my little booklet of things that made me happy. It continued to feed a growing notion inside; that I was intrigued in a way my friend wasn’t, and that was because my friend was straight. I might not be.
Looking back, I know something changed that night. I had peeked into another universe, a place where girls liked girls and showed it – and I wanted to see more.