For a lesbian, I’ve spent an impressive amount of time in bromances.
I don’t know how it happens, but every time I volunteer at a hostel, there’s always one straight cis man I instantly bond with. Different country, same storyline.
I arrive. We introduce ourselves. I casually say, “I’m a lesbian,” just to clear the air.
And boom. Bro vibes activated 🤝
From Den Haag with my Mexican bro in his 20s, to Oaxaca with the Italian in his 30s — different countries, same dynamic.
No one ever assumed I was straight. I’m too masc for that confusion. So instead of awkward tension, we bond over girls. Giving each other advice. Debating who got their heart broken worse. Laughing about terrible flirting attempts.
And somewhere between the humor and chaos, I’ve met some of the healthiest masculinity I’ve seen.
I’ve watched them treat women with respect. Talk about their feelings (as much as they can… give them a break 😅). Admit when they’re hurt. Ask for advice. Listen.
Big, sensitive goofballs with suspiciously great taste in women.
Hostel Room Energy
Hostel life makes everything more intense.
In Den Haag, the Mexican bro would video call his girlfriend, and I would jump into the frame singing “That Should Be Me” or “You Belong With Me.” Full performance. No shame 🎤✨
He knew. She knew. I knew.
It was a bromance so strong that if it was a competition, she would easily lose. (Sorry queen.)
Then there was the Italian in Oaxaca. Shirtless every morning doing workouts or yoga. Abs. Muscles. Calm, spiritual, yin-and-yang energy. Extremely chill and extremely fun.
He beat me in chess 1111 times versus my 5 wins. Unfair? Absolutely ♟️
We bartended together. Bro humor on another level. Played video games on our laptops on the coworking rooftop like teenagers instead of adults pretending to have it together.
It’s always playful. Loud. Slightly chaotic.
But surviving hostel life with straight men is also its own experience.
Cramps. Periods. Not exactly deep emotional processing spaces. Sometimes you want a soft queer conversation and instead you’re in a debate about gym routines or protein intake.
Still, I was always amused. Never unsafe. Often protected.
Navigating Nights Out
When we go out, we move differently.
They walk into a space assuming it’s straight until proven otherwise.
I walk in scanning for queer signals like I’m controlling the gay radar tower 🏳️🌈
They flirt and walk away. I scan and calculate.
They don’t have to think about being read wrong. I always do.
If a girl they approach turns out to be gay, they laugh and move on. If I tell a man I’m gay and he says “I don’t mind,” that’s a completely different energy.
There’s a gap there.
They don’t carry that background calculation. I do.
And yet — they listen when I explain it.
And honestly? That matters.
The Sweet Part
They’ve all protected me in small ways.
The Mexican bro would always make me walk on the inside of the pavement so cars wouldn’t hit me. Which was hilarious because I told him, “Bro, I do the same thing with women. So now what? Who backs down?”
We’d both pause. Confused. Stubborn.
I usually ended up giving in. Still a princess 😅
They check if I got home. Send a message. Walk me back even when I tell them to stay and enjoy the night.
Once in Den Haag, a volunteer I had a crush on rejected me. Later that night she accidentally spilled her drink on me — iconic moment 🍹
My bro immediately said, “Let me walk you home.”
I told him to stay and have fun. The next day, he stayed with me. And he listened while I was sad about it.
Not dismissive. Not joking. Just listening.
What I Learned
Somewhere between hostel kitchens and chaotic nights out, I realized something about myself.
Being masc doesn’t mean I don’t want softness. And being a lesbian doesn’t mean I exist outside of feminine energy.
Around them, I get to be both.
I can be the bro and the princess. Protective and protected. Competitive and soft. There’s no romantic tension, no performance, no confusion — just raw friendship.
Bonding with straight men has been this strange give-and-take of social norms. They get to be softer with me, more emotional than they might be with other men. And I get to embrace my femininity without feeling small.
And when I feel safe, I soften.
That doesn’t make me less powerful. It makes me more myself.
There’s still a difference between belonging to the assumed majority and navigating the world as queer. That gap doesn’t disappear. But when someone listens across it — that’s where respect lives.
Traveling like this has been funny, chaotic, occasionally awkward, but mostly beautiful.
When we hang out, we feel like teenagers again. Teasing. Competing. Laughing too loud in hostel kitchens.
We get to be children without worrying about our differences.
In conclusion: I survived. They survived. The lesbians were found eventually.
Till next time,
💫 Wonder. Explore. Live.
