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Only a single outlier turned up a dud: French; a human resources major; hopelessly boring, but pleasant enough. There was the soft-spoken grad student from New Zealand with whom I walked for hours through the Père Lachaise Cemetery, searching in vain for Jim Morrison’s grave while we compared the queer cultures of our respective countries.There was the American with a teeny-tiny septum ring and a head of wild curls, gleeful over any chance she got to escape the apartment full of French children where she was au pairing; we sat along the Seine, drinking red wine from the bottle, commiserating about femme invisibility and disagreeing about Wes Anderson (my take: overrated).

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There was the Moroccan onetime rugby player, who rolled me cigarette after cigarette on a poorly lit street corner as we talked tackles and heartache in the dark.

I wasn’t wary of going home with strangers the same way I might have been if I was meeting up with guys.

I’m on the femme-ish side of the presentation spectrum, where I tend to tragically blend in with the boring straight majority; in a pre-app dating world, the only surefire way I had of alerting someone to my gayness was recklessly flirting my way to a point of no return.

I had to be sure I wasn’t misidentified as a friendly straight girl, who are notorious accidental flirters.

Or maybe just go have a serious, heavy heart-to-heart conversation with that person?

Plus, after that conversation the friendship will never be the same if that person does not reciprocate your feelings. I know the word has a negative connotation in the Christian community.

No, I’m not brushing against your forearm and smiling a lot because I’m friendly, I have wanted to say too many times. Eventually I learned to name-drop lesbianism in casual conversation so I’d avoid making a complete flirting fool of myself.

But with dating apps — whether big players like Tinder or Hinge, or queer women-oriented minors like Her — there in front of you are all the female-identified people who are also looking for female-identified people, brought forth conveniently from the roar of the wild to the quiet simplicity of your screen.

We’d likely never have met if we weren’t both idly fooling around on Tinder, willing to devote an empty afternoon to an assuredly queer stranger on a moment’s notice. This weekend, we’re moving in together (#uhauling).

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