Minding my own business on the Luas the other day, my eyes were drawn to a couple of women a few seats away. I eavesdropped as hard as I could, but what with their intense whispering, in what sounded like Spanish, I hadn't a hope of understanding. So I just stared at them. Both were head-turningly beautiful, and their animated faces brightened up a dreary afternoon.
The younger woman had long, silky dark-brown hair and wore a heart- shaped gold locket around her neck. The older woman's elegantly cropped hair was greying slightly, but her deep- set brown eyes were framed by the longest, darkest lashes I have ever seen.
The younger woman seemed sad. She looked mournfully up at her companion, who in response did something I was glad, for safety reasons, the Luas driver couldn't see. She kissed her. Full on the mouth. For the few seconds it lasted, the women looked lost in another world.
I can't seem to get away from lesbians these days, which is no bad thing, except when we're talking about the soap-opera characters Sonia and Naomi. After accusations that the BBC was ignoring lesbians, EastEnders now has some - although their marriage- wrecking romps have me hiding behind the sofa, cringing most politically incorrectly. I don't think I am alone.
Not to be outdone, Emmerdale suddenly has lesbians, too. I don't know if Fair City has any, but there is at least one on The Afternoon Show, which, having taken some time off work recently, I am getting to see more often. (That and Oprah. Hurray!)
It was while watching the gorgeous Anna Nolan one afternoon, actually, that I started to get more in touch with my own inner lesbian. I'm convinced that every woman has one and that the women who swear blind that they don't actually have the strongest tendencies. It was the day after I finally admitted to myself that I had a mini-crush on Nolan that I was treated to the lovely spectacle of lesbians on the Luas. A supportive sign from the universe, I like to think.
Given my preoccupation with all things sapphic at the moment, I was sorry to miss the brilliant same-sex- marriage campaigners Katherine Zappone and Ann Louise Gilligan on The Late Late Show recently. I hear they were so impressive, warm, engaging and articulate that they won over almost the entire audience.
But the lesbian who has impressed me most lately is Louise Killeen. The singer-songwriter was the best thing about this year's You're a Star - my opinion before I even knew she was gay, actually. She's on the cover of this month's Gay Community News, talking about what it was like to reveal her sexuality to the small village where she grew up. "I came out when I was 22, eight years ago," she tells Brian Finnegan, the paper's editor. "I came out to my parents first, and that was tough. My mother goes to Mass every day, and they didn't know anyone who was gay, so it was difficult for them. My dad was great. He was like: 'I don't care what you are. I'll always love you.' But my mam took a while to come round to it. But they're both absolutely great now. They treat my girlfriend like she's their daughter. All along I had massive support from everyone - my brother and sisters, my parents and everybody in the village - with that part of it. With being who I am."
Louise has been an inspiration. Thanks to her I've decided I can no longer hide my sexual identity. Of course it's going to be disappointing for my boyfriend, but I need to be who I am, and if that means outing myself, then so be it.
Perhaps I will be able to thank Louise personally for being such a positive role model this weekend if she attends the fifth aLAF - a Lesbian Arts Festival - in Dublin. One of tonight's highlights is the launch of Girls Into Girls, a magazine produced by the art collective Lady Birds. Enterprising ladies.
You see, some of us played doctors and nurses as children. And some of us played nurses and nurses. Some of us even played both. What I'm saying is that Barbies didn't always need Kens to play with. They sometimes just fancied spending time alone with other Barbies. You know? So, just for the record:
I'm here; I'm queer; buy me a beer.
Or maybe I'm just having aLAF.
roisiningle@irish-times.ie
aLAF takes place around Dublin today and tomorrow. See www.alafireland.com