Then There Was Her

Sophie Cachia

• Publisher: Simon & Schuster Australia
• Year: 2022
• Print ISBN: 9781761103193
• eBook ISBN: 9781761103216
• Topic: Social Sciences
• Subtopic: Social Science Biographies
• Index: Social Sciences

The bestselling, heartfelt memoir from Sophie Cachia, whoreveals never-before-shared details of her marriage breakdown, and how delving into her feminine intuition and falling in love with a woman transformed her. Sophie Cachia had her white picket fence life. By the age of 25, she was a mother and happily married, and had also built a very successful business by documenting her every move online. But Sophie and her comfortable existence were thrown a curveball when she met a woman who prompted her to ask herself the questions: What more can I do? What more can I learn? What more can I be? A deeply honest and inspirational memoir, Then There Was Her describes how challenging the set social narrative for a young woman led Sophie down a path of awareness, empowerment and acceptance as she navigated identity, sensuality and the true meaning of authenticity as a mother and a woman.

Chapter 1

I was running late. Again.

At almost 30, you’d think I’d have learnt by now how to manage my time a little better… But no, I still insisted on challenging myself to get anywhere and everywhere in the shortest amount of time possible.

Sigh.

Only eight weeks earlier, I’d given birth to my second baby – my daughter, Florence – and I was on my way to one of my first ‘working’ events since she’d arrived, as a guest speaker on an AFL panel. (I’ve always worked hard, but let me tell you, dolling yourself up for a guest speaking appearance while you still have stitches in your fanny was new territory for me.) It was early 2017, the league’s inaugural season was about to kick off and I’d been invited to speak because I’d grown up in a pretty well-known footy family, the Shaw family, and am a vocal advocate for female representation in sport. My dad had always worked in the AFL professionally – as both a player and coach with Fitzroy, Essendon and Adelaide Football Clubs, as well in senior management at Fremantle FC – so I basically grew up in footy changerooms around the country. Plus, I had married an AFL player. I had lived and breathed the game at every stage of my life, so made a lot of sense that I was so passionate about it.

I know the game, I love the game, and I was absolutely stoked when the AFLW started up. I’d taken Floss to the first ever AFLW game when she was ten days old, which was such an emotional night for me as both a woman and a mother. Sure, I think the hormones were still raging through my body, but it was also such a significant huge moment in history both for females and the future of our position in sport – and the fact that I got to be there with my daughter to witness it was really special.

So, there I was, racing to speak for an audience, the sweat dripping from under my milk-filled udders running down my stomach and soaking into the post-natal recovery shorts I’d decided to squeeze on underneath my leather skirt. Whose brilliant idea was that?

I raced into the hotel where the panel was being held, ran into the lift and pressed the button… wrong floor, of course. Fuck. I was a sweaty mess and so nervous about getting up on stage – not because of any fear of speaking; more so because I was still in post-partum haze and, I reiterate, the under-boob sweat was real. (It’s an issue on any given day with size 12GG boobs but add two proverbial gigantic hot water bottles on your chest thanks to your now 14-I-cup breastfeeding boobies and, woah, its wet ‘n’ wild under your shirt.)

As a company director, digital marketer, social media influencer and the owner of multiple businesses, I hold myself to a high standard when it comes to work events (speaking events in particular), and I strive to be the consummate professional. My personal presentation is so important to me, so I like to always source and style myself, as well as well as making sure that my prepared talk is in immaculate condition. I am a ‘cram under pressure’ type of gal and it’s always worked for me. It’s how I operated best throughout school, university and now for work, so in regard to my preparation ahead of speaking engagements, it’s not uncommon to find me sitting up late at night, surrounded by pages and pages of handwritten notes (I’ve always retained information best by handwriting it), covering information on my expected talking points. I’ve also been known to stick notes up around my bathroom as a way of retaining information in order to present to the best of my capabilities.

As the elevator dinged to let me know I was at the right level, I could feel the panic rising.

Oh God, is my boob leaking?

I fumbled with my bag as the doors opened and I stepped through.

‘Just in the green room to your right, Sophie,’ a lovely staff member said as she ushered me towards a door. The tiny room was buzzing as the other women inside all chatted to each other. I didn’t know who they all were at first, but the handful of girls wearing their club polos were obviously the footy players I’d be speaking alongside up on stage any minute.

When you’re on a panel, it’s pretty standard to be introduced to a whole lot of people all within the space of 60 seconds, and as I was taken around the room and introduced to football players, administrators, various volunteers and other people (whose roles I can’t now recall), just remembering everyone’s names was far too much to take in, given my newborn-induced sleep deprivation and the tizz I was in over being late. All I could think about was the moustache I hadn’t had time to wax. Shit, have I got a sweat droplet hanging off my top lip? Ugh…

‘Hi, I’m Sophie, nice to meet you!’

‘Hi, yes, Sophie Cachia, so lovely to meet you.’

And so it went on…

Then there was her.

‘Hi…’

My world froze.

When you hear about people throwing out phrases like ‘the world stopped’ or ‘I saw stars’, I always thought it sounded like a bit of bullshit. But as I shook this woman’s hand, the electric current that ran between us was instantaneous. Energy ran between us – or perhaps just coming from my end. It was as close to an out-of-body experience as I could have ever imagined – and I’d never felt anything like it before in my life. Time stood completely still – and, yes, I am now one of those people who says that stars surrounded her in slow motion.

My mind was racing as she introduced herself.

Who is this woman?

I need to know her.

Oh my God, look at her arms… they’re so… sexy.

She wasn’t ‘pretty’. Not in the traditional sense that I had been made to believe thanks to societal conditioning, anyway. During a discussion in late 2020 with my good friend Deni Todorović – a proud non-binary human and activist in the LGBTQIA+ community – we spoke about this concept. Once upon a time, we had both associated the word ‘pretty’ with femininity – a clear indication, we agreed, that we’d been taught to associate certain descriptive words with gender stereotypes. But this is a way of thinking from which we’ve since both evolved. It is important for me to note this as part of my story so that when I have ‘labelled’ or stereotyped, it’s clear that these were the beliefs and thoughts of a past version of Sophie, not the evolution of her.

The woman who stood before me at the event was much shorter than me and very masculine in appearance. (Something else I have learnt over the past few years is that I’d instantly assumed her gender and pronouns based once again on societal conditioning, rather than asking her – though I now know how she identifies.) She had soft, beautiful skin that seemed to glow, yet had muscular arms and bulging veins from her fingertips to her biceps – something I’d never seen up close on a female before. Her eyes were piercing, sharp – the kind that look straight into your soul. I found myself inspecting her hands as she so firmly shook mine. They were strong, sturdy, with very short nails, bitten down to the bed. Protruding veins, as I’d so often seen on guys. ‘Man hands’, I called them. When she spoke, her voice was deeper than I expected. Even her scent was masculine, and it struck me that, physically, she possessed everything that I found attractive in my husband. She wore no makeup, her hair was thrown into a bun on top of her head… she was completely untouched.

So, whilst my then-conditioned brain hadn’t labelled her as ‘pretty’, she was without a doubt the most strikingly beautiful person I had ever seen in my life. And it was in that moment my world changed forever.

I’d never felt this way about anyone before – so instantaneous – and certainly not about a woman. I’d always been able to appreciate another woman’s physical beauty upon introduction, but this feeling was something new to me. This wasn’t just me objectively taking in her looks. This was intense attraction – and I had never been physically attracted to a woman before in my life. So while one part of my brain was absolutely enraptured by this gorgeous, intriguing, powerfully sexy woman standing in front of me, shaking my hand, then the other half of me was thinking, What the fuck, Sophie? Why are you attracted to her? Why are you attracted to a woman?

I admit, I was really rattled after that. The next few moments were a blur as I went around the room chatting with the other people who would be speaking that day, prepping to get up on stage. But I kept looking over my shoulder.

Who is that woman? And why do I care?

I was married, after all, and still very much in love with my husband. We’d just had our second baby for God’s sake. We were happy. I was happy! Our relationship was wonderful. Sure, there were a few issues, but nothing out of the ordinary, nothing that you wouldn’t expect to see in any marriage at some point. In the eight years I’d been with Jaryd, my eyes had never found their way to anyone else – male or female – with this level of intensity, intrigue or sexual attraction.

Whatever had just passed between me and this woman, I was truly shaken and as the night wore on, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her, even as I was speaking. I couldn’t stop staring at her nails. They were so different to my pink acrylic talons and I was surprised when I realised… I liked them. Usually I’d be thinking, ‘Oh God, look at her fucking nails. What are you doing?’ But I wasn’t. I recognised she was different to me, to anything I’d ever been surrounded by… and I liked it. All I could think was how sexy those hands were; what they’d be able to do to me.

Listening to her talk later during breaks in the program, hearing snippets about her life and how passionate she was about female equality in sport, I soon found I was no longer just intrigued by her looks. I was quickly becoming interested in her as a person. She spoke so confidently, so assuredly, and with such passion about footy – something that I loved so much, too. I was so absorbed in her stories about her life, her time in the sport, what it meant to her to be there that night, and I could see that there was, in fact, more to her than moisturised biceps and intoxicating eyes. She was really intelligent, empowering, and – most appealing to me – she was really interesting. I had to get to know her.

As the night wrapped up, we all stood around mingling for a while, and I wasn’t surprised at this point to discover I was totally giddy around her. We were all standing around talking as a group, but I was completely fixated on this woman. I was surprised to realise, though, that she seemed to be interested in me as well – not completely besotted in the way that I was with her, but there was something there drawing her to me. She admitted that she’d had no idea who I was before the event but had Googled me and seen that I had 200,000 Instagram followers – she looked impressed. I’ve always found it quite hilarious when people I’ve met have warranted me some ‘celebrity status’ because of the number count on my followers list. Even elite athletes or famous Australian actors have done this, when in fact it’s me standing there jaw-to-floor over them. They are the professionals, they are the ‘real deal’ – they are the famous ones here who deserve recognition and notoriety. Despite what some people would like to believe, Instagram followers have never been significant to me. Sure, for my career they are – in my role on social media, I am paid purely based on statistics, market reach, ROI, traction, targeting set audiences, etc. But some live with the narrative that just because we ‘work’ on social media, that we ‘live’ by social media – and for me that’s far from the truth.

The more we chatted amongst the crowd, the more I got the sense that I, too, had intrigued this woman. So, we followed each other on Instagram, exchanged a few details, and made plans to catch up. After what I didn’t realise at the time would be a life-changing meeting, I got in an Uber and I went home to my husband and my two babies. I had no idea what my feelings meant at that point – the confusion left me in a silent stare out of my window. All I knew was that I needed to know more.

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As my Uber wove through the streets away from her, taking me further and further from the fantasy and back to my life, I scrolled through the photos I’d had taken on the night with various people at the event – including her. ‘Gosh, I look so bad,’ I thought. Never mind the fact that I’d birthed my second baby just a few weeks earlier, I still judged myself harshly based on the possible perception of me she might be left with. Always a naturally confident person – one who has been blessed with quite a positive outlook on my physical appearance – I suddenly hated that photo. I hated that she might see it later and think I wasn’t perhaps as appealing as she’d remembered. I didn’t care that if it was on social media for the world to see; I cared what she was going to think, that she would think I looked bad.

I walked in the front door, bursting to tell Jaryd about the night. ‘You would not believe what just happened to me,’ I laughed, setting my bag down on the kitchen table as I filled him in. ‘I just had my moment.’ Jaryd and I had talked about these ‘moments’ in the past – you know, the love-at-first-sight moments, those people who swear they met someone and fell instantly in love. I was previously a bit judgmental about it the idea of a ‘moment’, I’ll admit, based on the fact I’d always believed love and attraction went far deeper than purely looks. I’d always found myself attracted to and more inclined to get to know someone based on a soul connection and if their personality could make me laugh.

But if it wasn’t love at first sight – what was it? All I knew was that this was my first encounter of a ‘moment’.

‘I just met this girl,’ I giggled to Jaryd, ‘this woman… and I think I’ve got a crush on her. I think I just had my moment.’

It was normal for Jaryd and I to be so blatantly open with each other. If a beautiful woman walked past us in the supermarket, I would watch Jaryd look at her and giggle. Jealously was never, ever a trait of mine in that relationship. We understood each other on such a deep-rooted level, and with such open communication at all times come great trust and respect. I was completely transparent with him about the night and how things had played out, my feelings I’d felt through both my mind and my body.

But I didn’t like girls! I was married… to a man. I’d only ever dated men. I’d only ever had sexual experiences with men! My confusion was obvious as I explained to Jaryd in detail my attraction towards her arms and hands, her deep voice, and the way she spoke about playing footy like Jaryd would. Yet, she was a girl, with boobs and a vagina. What the fuck?! We were both in hysterics when I proclaimed, ‘Jaryd – she even gave me fanny flutters!’

After an intense conversation about her, we headed to bed as usual, neither of us having any idea that this conversation would lead to us spending the next few years navigating our entire relationship – although much, much later, Jaryd confessed to me that he’d seen a spark in me that night that he’d never witnessed before, and he knew nothing would ever be the same again.

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When I tell you it was a slow burn from there, I mean it was s-l-o-o-o-w. It might’ve been an instant attraction for me, but there was a lot to process. This woman and I became friendly on Instagram, commenting on each other’s posts, replying to each other’s stories – but it was nothing, right? Just some schoolgirl crush that I would giggle about over cocktails with my friends. ‘Oh, Jesus,’ my best friend joked. ‘You watch all of us start finally settling down at 30 and you’ll be going through a mid-life crisis, getting divorced and becoming a lesbian.’ I couldn’t have predicted that that joke would become a reality.

I didn’t know if she was seeing anyone, if she might have a boyfriend, or if she could possibly be gay. Looking back now, it’s obvious to me where she was at in her life, but at the time I was totally naive to this unexplored world. I soon became obsessed with finding out if she had a partner. Why did I care, though? I was happily married. To a man! Remember, Sophie? I didn’t even like girls, right? Yet here I was, so heavily invested into a life I shouldn’t have cared about.

As I dived deep on her Insta page, scrolling back through photos, treading dangerously in that ‘you’ve-scrolled-back-to-2016-please-don’t-accidentally-like-a-photo’ territory, I noticed she had a few snaps with this one particular girl but I was at a loss to find the concrete evidence I needed. No lovey-dovey captions that I was renowned for spurting to the internet, no obvious displays of affection in the pictures, not even a glimpse of a ...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title Page
• Epigraph
• Jaryd
• Chapter 1
• Chapter 2
• Chapter 3
• Chapter 4
• Chapter 5
• Chapter 6
• Chapter 7
• Chapter 8
• Chapter 9
• Chapter 10
• Chapter 11
• Chapter 12
• Chapter 13
• Chapter 14
• Chapter 15
• Chapter 16
• Chapter 17
• Chapter 18
• Chapter 19
• Chapter 20
• Chapter 21
• Chapter 22
• Chapter 23
• Chapter 24
• Chapter 25
• Chapter 26
• Epilogue
• About the Author
• Copyright