So back in my junior year of highschool when I was just like gay and suicidal, I had just recently pissed off my best friend and we were not on speaking terms so, I packed my shit and took my ass to Sweden, to an international business school filled with sons and daughters of the upper crust politicians. On my first day, I got a tour from the most popular girl in the class.

Okay just for a second imagine you’re 17, you hate everyone, you’re a raging dyke, you only wear black, you just recently broke up with your first girlfriend and cut off all your hair. Like all of it. Now you're in this gigantic stately school and some annoyingly beautiful, perfectly tan 5’11” bitch with a pleated skirt and a Louis Vuitton bag is asking you which boy in the class you think is cute. The options are blonde pussy dork #1, #2, and #3. You would think ooh scandinavian boys, tall with an accent, god so sexy. You would be so wrong. 

Swedish boys are just like American boys but they sound like they’re from Minnesota and they don’t know what racism is. They’re just preppy blobs taking up space like “Well if police brutality was real I would know about it ja?”

No Sven. You of all people would not know about it. 

So through my introduction to this facility it’s made pretty clear that I might not fit in and that’s okay, because I befriended the only gay person I found – Rafaela. She was something special. I think we bonded so much because we both loved ragging on our Swedish peers. Some things you need to know about this bitch: She was actually fucking crazy, like a true freak. Two months into our friendship she staged a literal wedding for herself and her situationship, who was this 4 '11 masc lesbian chainsmoker. They went full out with a church and marriage papers and they did it. We were all 17. I was the best man. 

Rafi was Greek and Albanian, but had lived in Sweden for 6 years, so she had this very unique accent. When she felt like calling me by my name it was “Meerandaaaaaahh” but her other nicknames for me included, but were not limited to: Mrs. Bitch, American Trespasser, and Fem Kronors Whora, which is Swedish for 50 cent whore. If I ever called her out on any of these loving names, she would just look at me like I was crazy and say “OMG it was a kidding…. It was a joking calm down.” 

Anyway one day Rafi and her wife invited me to a “gay emo party” which is self explanatory. I pull up, have a few drinks, sing along to a few ironic Swedish rap songs about Stockholm being “the hood” in a room full of the whitest people possible.

I’m from Vermont so I’m used to weed being very legal and common but in Sweden, it's like a hard drug. So this girl pulled out a joint and everybody started acting like she had a fucking bomb okay. I’m like so confused, what's the big deal, but I just hit it a few times and pass it. 

That shit was not weed. 

All the sudden the walls are spinning, I’m fadeddddd and it turns out they smoke hash over there. I should've known when she was packing it and the bud was like a deep brown color. 

But that time is gone.

 I’m cooked. 

All I can do is wait it out.

I vaguely remember slurping down a fat bowl of ramen.. No recollection of where that came from. I hid in the bathroom and called my friend from home crying trying to explain my situation and she didn't understand what I was saying. Just when I’m about to give up on life, I open the door and BOOM. 

ITS SHANE FROM THE FUCKING L WORD.

Do you guys know Shane from the L Word? Thats someone really special to me… and the gays. I have never been so gagged in all of my life.

I don’t stop to question why she is here in Stockholm at this fuckass party full of teens.

All of the sudden she's telling me I'M cute and asking for my number?? We made plans to go out sometime that week.

So who was gonna tell me that was not Shane from the L Word….

I came to that realization the next day when I was sober and was going through my photos from the night. 

That was just a generic shaggy haircut lesbian. Not even close to Shane. She looked like every other bitch. I was devastated. But fuck it, I still let her hit like damn. Sometimes it's just what has to happen. Now I know not to date someone just because they kind of resemble a celesbian crush. Except I also dated a Tasha dupe this past year… and I am going to the King Princess look alike contest at Cubbyhole next week to scout out the dykes. Maybe I never learned.