How to lose a girlfriend in one day
WHAT’S IN A RELATIONSHIP ROLE? A BUTCH/FEMME COUPLE SWAP LIVES FOR 24 HOURS TO FIND OUT
WORDS ROXY BOURDILLON
It’s a typical Saturday morning. My girlfriend is cosy in a hoodie and joggers, studying a hefty hardback written by an SAS soldier: How To Stay Safe In A Dangerous World. I’m in a silk kimono and some frivolous but fabulous fluffy slippers, flicking through The History Of The Little Black Dress. I’m sipping the latte she lovingly made me and snuggling right up into her nook. Bliss.
Some people might find our butch/ femme dynamic old-fashioned; I find it hot as hell. My butcher half enjoys being, as she calls it, “protector, provider”. “I do the cooking, I do the driving. I’m the head of security. I make sure you haven’t got odd shoes on.” Steady on, love. As if I’d take fashion advice from you and anyway, you’re my girlfriend, not my carer! “Same difference.” I ask what she thinks I bring to the relationship and there’s a pause. An offensively long pause. “You’re very sweet”, she eventually offers. “And you’re easy on the eye.” I’d slap her, but I’ve just had my nails done.
Before you write me off as a goodfor- sod-all pillow princess, I’d like to point out that although I prefer to be the little spoon, I actually do pull my considerable weight around the house. I’m in charge of tidying, titivating and tackling laundry (I can’t trust her with my delicates, they’re from Paris). And if she falls ill, I’ll wave my femme fairy wand and instantly transform into Florence Dykingale. But if our life was the classic lesbo flick Bound, there’s no denying she’d be Corky and I’d be Violet. I’m all ruby lips, lace-framed décolletage and the Marilyn Monroe boo-boo-bee-doo school of seduction. She likes fixing stuff, has a mighty fine tank top collection and a questionable tattoo on her bicep. According to her, the biggest difference between us is practicality. When it snows, she laces up her walking boots, packs a survival kit, and preps a week’s worth of emergency supplies. I touch up my manicure: “Ooh, the snow will really make my red nail varnish pop!”