Swimming at the Crossroads

I was born and raised in the closeted middleclass suburban world of Melbourne Australia, where my older sister and I enjoyed a happy and well-balanced childhood. I was a happy kid, playing with other girls in our neighbourhood, and playing the usual games that little girls play, we would branch out occasionally and make mud pies with the boys or climb trees, and we would play hard ball games like cricket or a kind of golf using a broom handle and a rock or a can, and sometimes even a golf ball.

But that was only occasionally, for the most part we would play all girls together and stick to more enjoyable games like skipping and hopscotch and nurses and, of course, Mothers and Fathers.

We had a doll or dolls, one girl would be father, one mother, and we would play at keeping house and looking after the children. I was sometimes father, but more often mother, and I could see and even feel myself being just the kind of woman that my mother was, good at keeping house, good at disciplining and loving children, a fantastic cook and bookkeeper and generally speaking, the boss of the house.

I know that there usually comes a time when boys and girls stop playing and getting along and begin to make faces at one another and talk about boy germs and girl germs, and that this gives way to a time even later when they start getting interested in each other again, and strong as that attraction is, it is never the same as it once was, in fact it’s very different, but for me, it was never to return at all.   

Early in my high school experiences I was beginning to feel slightly out of the race, my friends were all into guys and what the guys were doing, they seemed to share equal time with the guys and with other girls for a while but it soon became disproportionate; I felt outside the group almost entirely, and as yet, I had no idea why this was so.

I had always been a good swimmer, and in my second year, I joined the high school swim team and threw myself into training six days a week, I did fairly well on the team and was more than usually happy and content, in spite of the heavy training and work load; only later would it dawn on me that I was happy because I was in an all girl swim team and generally, so busy, that I was never in the company of guys.

Megan Harris was a good swimmer, a fantastic diver and as hot as hell, I had a huge crush on her from day one, but as the days turned into months, I was thinking of her and even dreaming about her all the time and to tell the truth, I was confused but insanely happy when I found that I was also getting hot for her, I mean real hot, breathless and hot flushes type hot. I knew I was in love with her but I also knew that I could never tell her or anyone else, so I enjoyed my fantasy all by myself and this stage of my life was ecstatically happy.

I remember the next stage so vividly, I began to experience the worst depressions I have ever felt and was about to ask my parents if I could change schools, I was so flat that I was almost sick; what was I going to do if I didn’t leave this school for ever, Megan would almost certainly find out about my feelings for her, and she would shriek with horror and tell all the other girls, who would immediately ridicule me and make my life a hell on earth, I had to get away, and it had to be soon.

Friday morning high school swim meet, we were to compete with WGHS the best high school swimmers and divers in the entire universe and holders of the world cup, the crown jewels, the gold standard and all the diamonds in Elizabeth Taylor’s private vault. We were so busy changing, keeping warm and wondering how were going to face the humility of swimming laps while the WGHS girls were toweling down and re-hydrating as they headed for the awards ceremony, that I didn’t even have time to think, let alone look at and worry about Megan or the others.

I guess I was in a sort of haze most of the morning, but then again, so was the entire team, we just went about our heats like aquatic robots, swimming for all we were worth and then, as if awakening from a deep sleep, we suddenly became aware of a crowd cheering as we all stood hopping from foot to foot, shivering and squeezing our hands tightly into fists at the end of our “wooden soldier” arms.

What the heck was going on?