On Saturday mornings I drop my daughters to music class. The class takes place near an Italian cafe
where other parents sit alone sipping coffee waiting for their children to finish, or sit with their children talking about quavers. (Not the crisps.) I sit there thinking how I never thought I'd be this parent, trying to figure out Swan Lake-related homework, wondering if I should start to learn how to read music so I can be more useful to them. Then I remember to stop feeding my inner Tiger Mammy. Get my coffee. Take a seat outside.
The waiting time is just long enough for a decent spot of eavesdropping. Like this morning. There is a young woman sitting at the next table. Another young woman comes out of the cafe with two plates, a delicious looking pastry on each. She places one of the plates in front of the other woman. Their conversation goes like this:
Woman 1: What’s that?
Woman 2: What’s what?
Woman 1: That. It’s got some kind of fruit in it.
Woman 2: It’s what you ordered.
Woman 1: No it isn’t. I ordered a plain croissant. That has [inspects pastry briefly] some class of pear in it.
Woman 2: You said you wanted fruit.
Woman 1: I didn’t. I said plain.
Woman 2: You didn’t but do you want me to change it?
Woman 1: No it looks nice, but the point is I ordered a plain one.
Woman 2. You didn’t.
Woman 1: I did but it doesn’t matter.
Woman 2. You didn’t but I can change it if you like.
Woman 1: No don’t worry about it, but the thing is I pointed at the plain one and I said I’d have that.
Woman 2: No you pointed at this fruity one.
Woman 1: No. Definitely said plain.
Woman 2 stands up to go back into the cafe.
I’ve been smiling to myself as I listen, enjoying the always-entertaining cabaret of ordinary people and our ordinary conversations. I am playing detective. Only sisters could argue the toss at such lengths over a pastry. Of course it’s not enough that I am silently amused by them. I must share my amusement.
I say to Woman 1: “Are you sisters?” and to my surprise Woman 1 says “no”. And I don’t know what to say then so I say nothing. When Woman 2 comes out of the cafe with two cups of coffee, Woman 1 whispers something to her. She says: “That woman just asked if we were sisters.”
And Woman 2 replies: “That’s good, isn’t it?”
Now I’m totally confused. When Woman 2 goes back inside the cafe for something else I am compelled to explain myself to Woman 1. So I say: “You see, the way you two were going on about it reminded me of the kind of argument I’d have with a sister of mine, like if it was just my friend, I’d let the annoying fruit thing go but with my sister I’d keep going on and on about it the way you did. So I thought you were sisters. That’s why I said it.”
Woman 1 takes pity on me. “We’re a couple,” she says smiling.
A couple. Of course they are. And I realise that what they really reminded me of was myself and my boyfriend but because they were two women I didn’t join the dots. And now I’m mortified. I can’t bear the thought of Woman 1 explaining the latest development to Woman 2 so I scuttle into the cafe to finish my drink.
I sit inside laughing to myself. Celebrating, really. First, the fact that Woman 1 was able to casually tell me she was part of a same-sex couple. And second, the fact that in May we are getting a chance to vote to give these couples access to marriage, a civil arrangement that will look just like your average heterosexual civil arrangement full of love and sex and housework and prolonged arguments over pastries.
Earlier this week I signed up to Straight Up For Equality. It’s a new campaign that gives heterosexuals the chance to express support for our gay sisters, brothers, friends, nieces, nephews, colleagues, bosses, employees and children.
A campaign that gives you a platform, even if you don’t know any gay people or have any interest in aspects of that culture or community, to comfortably say, “I’m voting yes because I want to live in a more equal society.”
A campaign that gives women like me a chance to express solidarity with the women in the cafe instead of scuttling shyly away in giggling embarrassment.
The very last thing I want to do is leave gay people to get on with this campaign all on their own. This is not just about “them”. This is about everyone. It’s part of a much bigger picture. It’s about equality. Straight up. See straightupforequality.org roisin@irishtimes.com