Wilderness AS I THUMBED THROUGH the listings in the Bay Times, the local gay rag, I was drawn to a notice for a monthly Jewish lesbian discussion group. It was three months since I’d broken up with Dee; surely I’d ached long enough. Time to reach out and meet new women. I joined the group with an ulterior motive: I was on the hunt for a girlfriend. At first, I wasn’t especially attracted to anyone in the group. One meeting, two members announced they’d gotten involved with each other. Lucky them. I’d met Dana, one of the couple, two years previously. She and I had been part of a women’s anti-nuclear protest group Solar Spinsters, sitting in the road with arms linked in civil disobedience at the gates of Lawrence Livermore Labs, developer of nuclear weapons. After that group disbanded, Dana and I lost touch, until one day about a year later, when I saw her across a city street. She was distinctive enough that I recognized her from a distance: short like me, but with a wild mop of long, curly, dark brown hair.
