Unconventional

Ridiculous.

This whole thing was just completely ridiculous, yet her fingers tapped away at the phone, inputting certain information that she was willing to part with. For now. She felt silly. She had half a mind to scrap the whole thing, but she'd gotten a lot further than she had the last time. Always after putting in her name she would close the app, fear gripping her, causing her to retreat into shell of cowardice. It was stupid, really; coming up with witty quips or something interesting to capture people's attentions like she's starved for it. How humiliating, yet this was herIt was best bet, wasn't it? Too shy to just talk to people, too afraid to be who she truly was in an obvious way, this was the best thing. She hated clubs, couldn't stomach them, boring her so that was out of the picture. So this was it. The internet was going to be her new partner in crime, her new wingman. She wanted to hurl her phone across the room.

After all the verifications and further questions about her personality, she found herself staring at her phone's picture gallery, scouring for at least just one good picture of her. She sighed heavily. How disappointing that she didn't have a good and ready photo to go. Now she had to take a selfie of herself to put up lest people think she was a dirty old man trying to caftish young women on the internet.

Stupid. The whole thing is just stupid.

It took thirty selfies before she found one that she actually liked.

Why was she doing this again?

Loneliness.

It was jarring how quickly that answer came to her and resonated with her, stilling her fingers. Was this really what she was doing now? Was she finally sinking this low? Was really just throw caution to the wind and put herself out there despite the fact that she was sure the world was not ready for her just yet. Satisfied with her one photo, she decided it was enough for now. She would go back and add more when she felt a little calmer.

All in all it takes almost two whole days before she finally is comfortable with what she's put. She'd been nervous, making a couple mistakes here and there without a way to reverse them. It was hard to remember what swiping left and right meant but sure enough, she gets the hang of it. Pictures of beautiful women appearing on her screen, some intriguing, some frightening, some making her heart go out to them but too shy to make that right swipe. Soon it becomes an addiction. Left, left, left, right, right, left. During breakfast, while brushing her teeth before bed, thumb going one way and then the other, some piquing her interest, while others she avoided because she knew, there was no chance in hell those kind of beautiful women would swipe right on her.

It's within the second week when it happens.

Coffee in one hand, phone in the other, thumb making fast (now mastered) movements, eyes barely scanning the photos nowadays until one actually stops her from breathing.

Weird.

Utterly strange.

There was no way to determine if you would make a good match by looking at photo and few words, yet there were so many people out there in the world now, doing this exact thing, finding their forever homes, their soul mates. The one. She didn't really believe in the entire love at first sight thing, she believed that relationships took work, dedication, effort and an insurmountable amount of trust.

So why?

A brunette woman with a pink rose in her hair, a backwards baseball cap comfortably sitting atop her head like it belonged there. It was a strange somewhat contradictory photo yet it seemed to pull her in. For a moment she just stared, thumb unsure which way to go. Left and miss an opportunity? Right and make a connection that could last days, months, years or could be over within one message? It's unknown how much time passes until she moves her thumb to the right.

Okay. There it goes.

Back to the waiting game.

She can't look away. She can't stop looking. Something, something is drawing her in, but what? Is it the look in those alluring, welcoming brown eyes? Is it the thin lipped smile with just a hint of playfulness just behind it? What? It was enough to drive her mad. It hits her suddenly. She hadn't really looked at the profile too much, so she taps, taps, taps. Sees other pictures, those eyes still beckoning, those lips...

Get a grip.

Maybe it's because she's lonely, maybe it's because she has gone almost two years without that kind of relationship but the words written before her appeal to her, wrap themselves around her in such a way that she feels comforted, as if sitting by a cozy fire during winter with a blanket around her shoulders. Warm. She feels warm. Without thinking she types out a message.

Are you my soul twin? I swear, everything you've written in your profile... Describes everything I want to say, you're just better at it than me.

More waiting.

She hated the waiting. She was so sick of waiting.


She's watching TV when her phone vibrates in her pocket. She had given up all hope. Another dead end. Another dud. Another one scared off by her attempt at being funny or witty. Bored, she reaches into her pocket and checks the front screen.

Her heart plummets.

Then soars.

A reply.

Maybe. Now wouldn't that be something, eh?

Frantic.

Her brain is frantic. What could she possibly say now that could keep this conversation still going? Her brain seemed to be scrambling for useless facts, unusable information that can be relayed just for that sole purpose of being passed on. Fear is starting to seep in. Was there a limit as to how long one could go without replying before they miss a window that says anything that is said now will just not be relevant in any sense of the word? Before she can type a reply, her phone vibrates again. Another message.

That's how it starts.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

Five weeks.

Five weeks of "Good morning" and "Good night!" along with idle chitchat about work, the things they were up to. They're far from each other, in fact a whole entire province away from each other. A whole day and a half's worth of a trip by car, a few hours by plane and possibly months before they can actually meet. Five weeks of back and forth and soon the messages become more friendly, more flirtatious, more bold, deeper. The curiosity she feels toward this woman an entire province away from her grows with each passing day. Friends is how they start, friendly conversations with light flirting and then on the sixth week, their voices finally fill each other's ears.

It's strange.

At first.

Shy introductions, nervous chuckles, both stumbling over simple words due to the havoc their nerves were wreaking within them. The first one lasted just under an hour. The second, almost four. By their tenth call there's easy comfortable silences that fill almost eight hours of a phone call. Some days there is a lot to talk about, some days there is not but it doesn't seem to hinder their conversation entirely. They'd met early autumn and by the time the first flowers of spring bloomed, there were feelings stirring between them and the real part began.

It's like being in high school. It's the closest way she can describe it. Asking questions to see what type of person they like usually followed by internal dialogues full of self criticism, gay panic and fear of rejection. Each call ends and begins with a smile and by spring, there is no denying it. She had a crush. On a stranger. That she talked to on the phone. A lot. Who lived far away.

Oh. Boy.

Hints are dropped. Flirtation is now in abundance and very obvious to both parties. There's a shift in their relationship, a new scary shift. An unconventional shift.

Here was a complete stranger over in another province in her country. They hadn't met in person but they talked on the phone a lot, messaged each other, a lot; even when they weren't supposed to be (IE being at work and the like) they were in constant contact. There's hints from the other woman (Kailen) that she too might reciprocate everything she was feeling.

Despite the feelings, no labels came forth between the two.

Friends.

But not really.

But friends.

Friends who talked every day. Friends who whispered words of comfort and love to each other. Friends who fell asleep on the phone with each other. It was a strange, out of the norm relationship. Well, would have been, if it wasn't how the world was, but it was different for her. This was not the norm. This was strange. Still.

Strange and unconventional.

Yet good.


In the months from spring to summer, something has completely changed. Whatever was between them was now easily defined. In the strangeness of this new world, where people are sequestered in their homes during winter, where half your face is covered nowadays without it being weird, love blossomed through it all and it was, at last, time to meet.

She was flying over.

Then they were driving back.

A road trip of sorts full of newfound romance, discoveries and a make or break it of sorts that leaves both of them slightly apprehensive about the whole plan. What if by being together, things get ruined. It was obvious that talking via the phone and messaging was completely different than actually talking, being able to see the others' facial expression to certain things being asked and said. But they want to try. In a world where they find each other where they do, they want more than anything to try. Hopeless romantics at heart, hoping for that greatest love story ever told, searching for it; yearning for it.

She's a ball of emotions by the time she steps out of the plane. Giddy, nervous, mind a frantic mess once again as she searches the airport for that familiar face. Decisions have to be made within the first few minutes of eye contact. Do they hug? Do they shake hands? Do they wave? What are they to do? They're laughing at each other, seeing each other in person for the first time and there's a slight electrical spark. Arms encircle each other.

It feels right. It feels perfect.

Within a few days the small sedan is packed with suitcases and some boxes containing important items. They take turns driving and it's at their first motel stop that something changes. Something happens that both women felt was coming yet still was unprepared for regardless. It happens at the table over a spread of pizza and a two liter bottle of Ginger ale.

"I like you." it's out of her mouth before she can even think of a better way to say it. She's been finding herself to be a bit more unfiltered around this one. There's a sense of comfort in Kailen's presence that makes her feel like no matter what she says, she is cared for, she is loved.

The movements in the room become still, the air heavy and every little noise that used to drive them crazy ever since they'd arrived has stopped.

It's just them.

Alone.

Looking at each other.

"Well," Kailen says with a smile. "I like you too."

"No, I mean... I like you like you." she repeats even though she knows the other woman knows exactly what she's talking about.

Again there's that slight jolt of electricity the minute their eyes meet. She'd believed the eyes were the window to the soul and at that precise moment she learns the truth; it is. Similar dreams of finding someone to love and pour your heart into play within her eyes. Images of slow dancing in the kitchen while making dinner flood her vision followed by other images she'd only ever thought to write about in stories. Cuddles on the sofa on a cold rainy autumn day. Walks in the park hand in hand during the beautiful breezy days of spring. Laying together on a blanket at the beach, watching the sunset to the soundtrack of waves crashing upon the shore. All these things she'd ever wanted, all these things she'd dreamed about being shown to her.

"I know."

That's when it truly begins.


They sleep in the car sometimes. Moving some things around so that they can occupy the backseat, cuddling into each other for warmth. Their friendship is there but all the more special now. That shift. It had happened. The first time they sleep together is in a run down motel not too far from the highway. It's a questionable place. Broken signs and quiet receptionists made them as uneasy as the shady characters they'd spotted in some rooms. They coop themselves up in their room, happy to stay there and eat bags of chips and carrot sticks that had been packed into the cooler. There is no heat in the room. They both think they should've just slept in the car.

So they huddle.

Cuddle.

Nice and close, bodies flushed together, foreheads touching, noses nuzzling. They hadn't kissed yet. There had been moments where it would have been perfect but they'd both wanted to wait for that perfect, perfect moment. Sure this wasn't how exactly either pictured it but after staring into each others eyes and finding more answers to unasked questions they couldn't even begin to ask, it felt as perfect as it could possibly be. Their hearts were pressed together, talking, willing their minds to act on the things they'd been repressing momentarily.

That night is spent exploring each other in a new intimate way that even asking deep thoughtful questions couldn't compare to. Nothing went as far as that. Not yet. No, but the room still filled with heavy pants, sighs and whispers of adoration and love and a lot of heavy petting that resulted in each other to have a cold shower at some point. Separately.

Obviously.

It takes a day and a half to come back. Now they're only thirty minutes away from each other. Hands holding onto one another as they drive through the mountains and into the city where the lights greet them in a soft glow. They decide to crash one last time at a motel before parting for awhile. It's there in that mediocre motel with the crummy breakfast buffet they make love for the first time. All through the night they move together, hands, mouth, tongues exploring until every inch of skin is discovered and after that, they start again, the second time just as exhilarating as the first, if not more. They wake up the next morning, pressed together like they're trying to make a home within each other. They were literally trying to burrow into each other where they felt and knew they truly belonged.

They both agreed on one thing, and they always had since the beginning; love was real and it took effort and trust and honesty and they truly belonged to each other; forever. For always.


They hate the term u-haul lesbians but that's exactly what they are. Within the first month Kailen has made room in her drawer and apartment for her (Lainie) and soon Lainie stays and Kailen begs her not to leave. Begs her to stay because it's where she belongs. Convinces her (though it wasn't needed) that they both slept better together than alone. So Lainie concedes (an act so she doesn't seem as lame and desperately in love with this woman whom she met on an app for hooking up) and soon they develop a routine. Sometimes Lainie works from home and by the time Kailen has come back from work, dinner is ready and the apartment is tidy. Kailen always brings her flowers and at the end of the week they sit together on the sofa in the evening, phones off, music playing and catch up.

Now, despite being very in love, fights were still inevitable during those first few years. Whether it was who forgot to replace the toilet paper to life getting in the way and hidden jealousies rearing their ugly heads in an attempt to pry them apart. Yet this was fine. Everything about their relationship was different.

Unconventional.

Fights would be too.

There are moments of screaming matches, frustrations and tears spilling over but then followed by either raw carnal love making or the kind that takes hours and leaves them both sated and happy and it's like it never happened. They would argue. They would fuck. They would talk. They would make love and everything would be perfect once again. It takes practice.

Lots and lots of practice.

But they make it work and four years down the line Lainie drives Kailen to some spot along a river and they camp there for three days and two nights. On their first night staring up at the sky she says the words she's been wanting to say for a while but wanted to be sure of. Now she was. This woman in front her. She was the one.

"Marry me. I belong with you. You belong with me. Marry me. I've waited my whole life for you, I don't want to wait anymore."

It's simple. It's concise.

Yes is whispered through a breathy laugh. They celebrate by making slow love underneath the sky, their touches conveying to each other just what they can't say with words. That's how it always is.


They marry in the spring at a park surrounded by beautiful flowers and their friends and family. The whole thing is unconventional. Two women getting married. Two women falling in love with each other with words and conversations followed by the intense physical chemistry where whenever they dared look at each other, their eyes would be smoldering with passion. Despite it all, despite the years of life they'd journeyed to, that passion, that honesty, that love was still there, never-ending, never changing.

Perhaps being unconventional was the conventional way to go after all.


Author's Note:

Was inspired to write this randomly so late/early in the morning. Just testing out my short prose skills. Lemme know what you think.

Thanks.