By Darby Swab
In college, a “Tumblr famous” girl lived in the same dorm as me. I’ll tell the truth as vaguely as possible, but—iykyk*. She was, and is, ethereally beautiful—a tall, slender redhead with high, dramatic cheekbones. I had to meet her. It started with a DM after she posted a pic of her room—hey, is this X building? I live here too. Let’s get breakfast.
We learned we were born one day apart—August Leos. We grew up in roughly the same part of the state. She was an artist and already dating women, something I hadn’t quite gotten to yet. We grew closer and moved out of the dorms. Her apartment was much more fashionable than mine, and she would let me play dress-up in her closet. I drove us an hour away in my Subaru Forester to a fall festival, took film photos of her trying on her dream leather jacket. We went to the beach; her friend left glittery residue from a Lush product covering the backseat of the Forester. I’ve attempted to chase that level of shine ever since.
One summer, I spent the weekend at her family’s house to celebrate our close birthdays. “Have you ever seen Twin Peaks?” she asked. “No,” I replied. On separate couches, we watched. Was any of it ever romantic, sapphic? Maybe not overtly, maybe not intentionally. It could have been the magic of female friendship. But for me, something was igniting. Not feelings for her specifically, per se, but a part of myself I was just beginning to understand was starting to speak, and I was finally open to listening.
We fell apart after a few years, as it goes. She had bigger, louder opinions on things like sexuality and gender and art than I did, and felt inherently correct on them. I tried to say, well I still feel this way, this is who I am. I wasn’t ready to live it yet. At some point recently, I realized she unfollowed me on Instagram. How could someone who was so subtly intrinsic to my story do that? She has a wife, lives across the country. David Lynch died today.
Truth be told, I watched Mulholland Drive for the first time on a laptop with busted speakers in 2023 because Chappell Roan sang about it. No one had told me it was gay before! I watched it again that year, on the big screen—-a director feature at a local theater on a first date with my now-boyfriend. I’m openly bi, openly queer—-even as a woman who dates men, and despite it.
David Lynch died today.
Based in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, in the U.S., Darby Swab lives with her senior cat Jack and loves Taylor Swift, the color pink, and all things glittery.
*iykyk: if you know, you know