She was invited to an office party (not her office) and we decided to go.
I need a big flashing "I'm A Lesbian" sign that hovers over me at all times, so I don't accidentally snare in boys with lengthy conversations about hyped-up books/movies, filmography, Harry Potter, fanfiction, and sci-fi/fantasy things...and then destroy their hopes when it comes time for exchanging phone numbers (this time I did it with mention that I'm based in Boston, rather than the lesbianism; I suppose he'll find the latter on Facebook). He really was quite sweet and intelligent--I enjoyed the conversation thoroughly--so I did agree to an Internet friendship, as is common in this day and age.
To be fair, he started the conversation when I was innocently starting The Hunger Games, sat in a corner the way I often am during parties when there aren't any pets or interesting plants about. And I did not at all hide my interest in the older female characters of Harry Potter, was clear in my knowledge of slash and shipping, and mentioned Sigourney Weaver and Susan Sarandon (in Rocky Horror) being pretty. I specifically mentioned loving Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank and her pipe.
Next time, I probably shouldn't remove my "I ♥ Lesbians" badge from the outside of my bag in some pretense of being formal, especially when I'm already wearing a pair of Doc Martens (and mismatched rainbow shoelaces) with my borrowed skirt-suit. Or my rainbow "pride" earring.
(For the record, I do know how to come out, and I do it frequently. I didn't feel the need in the conversation; I didn't know there was legitimate interest until he asked for my number and I saw his disappointment when I mentioned that I'm from out of town. Most people catch on to my obvious preferences pretty quickly, without the specific announcement.)
My nigh-aunt saw the interaction and we talked about it a bit on the walk back. I told her I shouldn't have removed my badge. She asked, "So you're not interested in men at all?" "Nope," I replied (and the question surprised me, since she's known me my whole life and I've been adamantly out as gay-gay since I was 14). "Don't tell me you're still a virgin!" she exclaimed. "Yup," I said (and chuckled--a bit bitterly--because I come across that reaction enough), "and I bet you would never expect the daughter of [my mother] to be a virgin at 22, with how boy-crazy she was!" Talk about conversations I'm way too used to having. (No, today I didn't resent it and I'm not feeling at all hard on myself; it actually made me feel a bit empowered, to not be falling to pressure and to be doing things in my own way/time, with my own priorities.)
Just wanted to update that I got here safe and sound! Especially since I will probably not have Internet until I return (though nigh-aunt is scheming to ask her new downstairs neighbour if she can pay for a few days of zir Internet and use that passcode, until her 'net is installed on Wednesday).