My friend shuffles toward me in her seat. Her forehead wrinkles and her gaze drops as she opens her mouth to speak. “So, how does your boyfriend feel about you working at DIVA? Is he not, um, worried?” She sips her coffee and tilts her head to the side, giving the impression she’s actually a little worried about the prospect herself. “Worried about what…?” I ask.
Of course, I know exactly what she means. That as a woman attracted to people of all genders, I might walk through those doors into the sparkling and sapphic realm of DIVA, lose all self-control and be gladly whisked into the bosom of the first woman I happen to meet. (Well, maybe…)