Introducing Sappho

There are 1.8 million people in this city. Roughly half of them are women. approximately 20% of those women are queer.
That's one hundred and eighty thousand queer women within a 44 mile radius.
Statistically, my chances of finding one to fall in love with is high.

I can only imagine that there are millions of blogs in the style of Carrie Bradshaw's iconic column. But as I embark on my own personal dating Ulysses, I can't help feeling close to that 90s icon.
I've always felt close to Carrie. I look like her, for a start. I have the blonde curly hair, the dress sense that garners praise from women but which men find highly questionable. I don't smoke, but I do spend a lot of the time looking chic, but like I'm dying of bubonic plague (more on that later) which was always sort of her trademark. Big hair, big coat, big under eye circles, that's our Carrie.

I'm also unlike Carrie in a lot of ways. Firstly, I'm gay, whereas Carrie limited her understanding of the LGBT community to a charming "gbf" (groan) and three slightly offensive episodes where she diners bisexuality exists, and reinforces harmful stereotypes about lesbians (although, not going to lie, my favourite episodes are the ones where they briefly interact with the lesbians, my people). But it was a different time. In the 1990s, when Carrie owned the streets of New York, she was single, stylish, straight, and Fabulous. 
But it's not the 90s anymore, and I feel like we're in a pivotal moment in dating history.
When Carrie and the girls were falling in and out of relationships, gay people were fighting for the right to marry, to adopt, and in many paces and families, to just exist.
But a new day is here. In 2018 the city belongs to us all. Trans, queer, immigrant, person of colour, disabled, it doesn't matter, the city is for all of us.
The modern woman is political, intelligent, intersectional, and yes, fabulous.
And she's looking for another intelligent, intersectional and fabulous woman to take on the world with.

So why haven't I found her yet? you might be wondering.
Well, remember how I said I looked like I'm dying of bubonic plague? I'm not, don't worry.
But I have not been well.
In fact, I have been gravely, scarily, last-section-of-Beaches sick since I was a teenager. I'm talking wheelchairs, needles, collapsing, and not having a whole lot of fun. But last year I flew to a different city for their medical expertise, and, to everyone's shock.... it's working.
I am, and I don't want to jinx it.... getting better.

This, of course, is life changing, life affirming, miracle level stuff.
But also, amidst my joy, and my hope, and my fear that it will stop working....  is another little problem.
I am now in my twenties, but haven't really been out in the world since I was 13. So I have, and this is a little embarrassing to admit, roughly the dating expertise of a 13 year old.
I mean, there were little romances here and there. It might seem unlikely that people would be into me in the midst of all that medical chaos, but hey, I guess they thought I was fabulous too?
But I was never really into it. I just didn't have the strength or energy or drive for any of it, and I pretty much saw my body as something dangerous and fragile that needed my constant care and attention. I basically saw myself as a colicky baby.... so not very sexy.

So, here I am. Twenty years old, living for free in my aunt's apartment (but will get kicked out soon), no money, barely alive, getting strong, and a complete novice of the bright and colourful world of dating, romance, and relationships.
This will be my diary, and my field notes.
This is the year I go from sick in the suburbs to Sappho in the city.
I hope you will join me.

Lots of love,
Sappho