Dave/Chris: End of an adventure

Shane and I are back at the Inn. We arrived today, and hopefully we'll be back in our bodies soon, and we can go back to our regular lives. I haven't posted much recently, because there hasn't been a whole lot to tell. We've been running the cafe and living pretty regular lives. After Shane had his threesome, things cooled off between the 2 of us, and we haven't had sex since. I guess that when Shane did this, a barrier went up from my side, and he hasn't pushed it since. We were also coming to the end of this journey, and I think that once we're back in our normal bodies, it might be easier to go back to how things were, if we're not currently having sex or in some kind of weird relationship.

I still worry about it, though. After what we've been through, and what we did together, can things ever go back to how they were? I guess we'll just have to wait and see. We're still fine, but I can sense a sort of awkwardness, which I can only describe as being similar to hanging out with an ex that you decided to try to stay friends with.

It's been an interesting experience, and we've both learnt a lot. Being trans for these months has really opened my eyes to the challenges that they face, and the frankly vindictive laws being enacted by the current administration that serve nothing, and trample all over a group of people that are marginalized anyway. The bathroom laws, for example, are ridiculous. I look very much like a man, but now I'm supposed to use women's bathrooms? And if I decide to play any team sports, then I should join a women's team? I'm quite sure that there would be objections if I did either of these things.

I'm also looking forward to going back to my business. Running a cafe is difficult anyway, but now, nobody knows what will happen to the supply or the prices of anything imported. As a locksmith, a lot of my business is opening the doors of people that have locked themselves out - which requires tools I have anyway. I also cut keys and install locks, but I managed to order a whole lot of blank keys and locks from a supplier a couple of months ago which they'll hold for me until I get back.

There is some apprehension about going back, though. When we were in Indy over Christmas, I realised just how fucked up my actual life is. I'm really motivated to try to fix what I can now, and build a life I'm happier in. Living the life of Chris was less stressful in a lot of ways. I was there temporarily, and whatever I did, and whatever happened, I won't be around to live out the consequences of. That's not to say I didn't try to do the right thing - but if I messed anything up, then it would make no difference to me in the long term. Having said that, I don't think that we made a mess of things, and Chris and Sylvia can go back without too many problems.

I wonder how Shane will adjust to going back to being a man. Looking at him, it's very difficult to see that he was ever anything but a woman. When we were packing to go to the inn, he went through Sylvia's closet and lamented that he didn't get to wear a lot of her summer dresses, because it's never been warm enough. On the other hand, he's often complained about the uncomfortable heels, the make-up and periods - or the lines for the ladies bathrooms, and having to sit to pee. I think I got it worse than him there, though. Men's bathrooms often only have one stall and someone has usually pissed all over the seat. He did adjust to being a woman very quickly and comprehensively, so I hope he adjusts to being a man again just as quickly. I'm mostly looking forward to getting my cock back. I constantly worry about someone finding out that I don't have one, and I'll be very happy when I won't have to deal with this anymore.

I think we'll mostly be spending our days walking around town, going to the beach and trying to treat it as a vacation. It's still quite nerve-wracking, because until we're back in our own bodies, a lot can still go wrong. We have decided on a very strict rule about staying in our respective beds from 11pm until the sun comes up. No going to the bathroom during the night, just in case, so the key will be not to drink much when we go out and particularly taking it easy on the beer.

Now we wait, and hope that it all goes to plan....

Dave/Chris: Being cheated on

Well maybe I wasn't exactly cheated on, because Shane told me beforehand, and I even said it was OK, but it wasn't and it hurt...

Shane went with a few of Sylvia's girlfriends on a night out last week. He seems to like dressing up, going out and being one of the girls, and the novelty of being an attractive woman, getting the attention of men has apparently not worn off yet. I've seen it myself, but it's never really bothered me before, because our "relationship" is time limited, and in any case, I never thought that he would take things further.

From what he told me, he met a couple at the bar that they were all at, and started talking to them. At some point, the rest of the girls moved on, or went home, but he stayed and talked to them. The drinks were flowing and a proposition of a threesome was made - I don't know by whom, but it doesn't really matter. 

The next day, he brought it up with me. He said that in the beginning, it seemed to be a joke, and everyone was treating it as such, but the longer they talked, the more serious the invitation was, and by the end, they'd given him their number and tentatively made plans for it this weekend.  He initially thought that he would never call them, but the more he thought about it, the more he wanted to try it. He said "I know that I'm bisexual right now, and I've been wondering what sex would be like with a real penis. This might be my last chance" That stung, because I'm pretty sensitive about missing my manhood, and still very self conscious about it. He could see my discomfort and put his arm around me. "Look, I didn't mean it like that, but it's something I've wanted to try. If you're not OK with it, then tell me." I wasn't happy about it, but I couldn't say no, because we're not really in a relationship, or at least it doesn't have a future, and I wanted to be supportive and not sound unreasonable.

So on Saturday night he went. I intended to stay home, but couldn't. I needed to do something, so I went out to a bar, and for reasons I can't explain right now, I decided to go to a rough dive bar. I just wanted to go somewhere, where I could sit on my own and get drunk. I've mentioned before that I pass pretty well, but occasionally, I still get identified as trans. Unfortunately, this was one of the times that it happened.

I was downing my 4th or 5th whisky, and noticed a big guy looking at me, then he went and spoke to his friends, and pointed my way. I tried to ignore him, but he was suddenly standing next to me. "This isn't a gay bar", he said threateningly. San Francisco is a pretty tolerant place, but that doesn't mean that everyone is cool with gay or trans people, and unfortunately, the current administration has emboldened these people. I tried to ignore him and turned away. "I'm talking to you....", he said, as he knocked the drink out of my hand, the glass shattering on floor. I looked at the bartender, who just turned and looked away. He came up close to my ear and I could smell the tobacco and beer on his breath. "You have exactly 20 seconds to get the fuck out of here, or I'll kill you", he whispered in my ear. I wasn't exactly in a position to argue, so I got up and left, hearing obscenities and threats about never coming back here again as I walked out the door. I ordered an Uber as I walked a couple of blocks away, shaking the entire time. I was terrified that they'd come after me. Luckily they didn't, but I'd never been so scared in my life.  I got home, still shaking and it took me a good while and a few drinks to calm down. Eventually I fell asleep.

The next morning, I woke up early to work in the cafe, and Shane still wasn't home, so I texted to make sure he was OK. He replied a little later and told me they were going to have breakfast and he'd be home after that. I didn't see him until later in the day, and I didn't ask him how it was, because I didn't want to know, and he didn't offer to tell me anything either. He did seem to be in a particularly good mood, though, so I imagine that he enjoyed it. I didn't tell him about what happened to me.

I just want to go back to the inn, go home, and leave all this behind...

Dave/Chris: Living with ourselves

Shane and I have settled into more of a relationship now. We're still having sex, and now when we go out together, it's like we're dating - I guess we probably are actually dating. We both make more of an effort to look good for each other, we hold hands and kiss sometimes, and the dynamic has changed. What strikes me the most is how much of a woman Shane has become. I'm nowhere near as comfortable as he seems to be, and he changed more than I did. I may have a different body and genitalia, but unless you're looking for it, you can't really tell that my body used to be female. On the other hand, Shane's whole position in society has changed. It's particularly noticeable during sex. Shane seems to love being penetrated, and encourages it, whereas for me, it took some time to adjust, and even though it feels good, and it's really sexy, when we're both at either ends of a double ended dildo, there's still a degree of discomfort for me that I haven't seen in him for a long time.

After transforming at the Inn, I was genuinely shocked to find that I had a pussy, but there was something a bit arousing about it too. But when I tried to play with it on the first night in San Francisco, it just seemed wrong, so I didn't get very far, and blogged about it when I finally tried again. Shane told me that he first masturbated a few days after we got to San Francisco, and I think he's been attending his needs regularly since then.

Aside from this, he moves like a woman, acts like a woman and dresses like a woman. I look, act and dress like I don't know what I am. I had to ask him again if he had ever wanted to be a woman before. He assures me that he didn't, but after trying to fit in as a woman, he found that he could do it, and although he felt awkward in the beginning, he's adjusted.

This made me think. Maybe I should see what it would be like to try on women's clothes, just to see how it feels, and whether I could imagine being comfortable wearing them. Even though my body normally looks quite male, there are parts that also look more feminine, like my hips are wider than most men, and my shoulders narower, so it shouldn't be too hard to see a woman if I dressed myself as one. So one day, when Shane was out, I put on one of Sylvia's dresses, and heels (our shoe size is almost the same). I put on a bra and stuffed it with socks. I have a beard and a very short haircut, so it doesn't look right, and I expected that it would probably look OK, except for the beard and hair. However, when I stood in front of the mirror, everything else looked and felt wrong, and only the beard and hair looked right. I lasted maybe 10 minutes, before I had to take it all off again.

I couldn't see that I would ever be comfortable wearing any of that, even if I tried to get used to it. In this blog, it's well known that people gain their bodies sexual preferences. It happened to Shane as well, otherwise, I don't think he'd want to have sex with a man - even one who has a pussy. But thinking about it, it seems that gender identity must also stay with the bodies we inherit. Although it's never been explicitly mentioned, it seems like everyone on this blog has accepted the gender they're in eventually. Shane has the body of a woman whose gender identity is female, so he's had a much easier time adjusting to having female genitalia, than I have, in the body of someone whose gender identity is male.

I'm very curious to see how Shane adjusts to be being male again in a couple of months, but I think that he'll adjust back quickly, because he also adjusted to being female very quickly, and his "default" state should be male. I want to see how long it takes him to lose the female movements and mannerisms that he's picked up.

I also didn't want to talk about politics again, but I don't think I can get around it. Chris has a passport that's good for another 3 years, and it identifies him as male. When he goes to renew it, then from everything that's happened, he'll get one that identifies him as female. I'm less worried about bathrooms and sport. The focus is not on female to male trans people, like myself, but on male to female. Cindy is freaking out though, quite understandably. She was due to fly to europe for a holiday in summer, which she's now cancelled, because she needed to apply for a passport first, and she would have to travel on a male passport. She was worried about the implications of that at international borders. Nobody can really understand what the point of all this is, but I think if I hadn't been transformed, then I wouldn't care about this - I'm embarassed to say, that I might even have supported it. But having lived this life for the more than half a year, I can see that I'm surrounded by folks who just want to live as well as they can, and don't deserve this. I'm lucky, because I'm going back to my old life in less than 2 months, but everyone else is stuck. I'm almost tempted to tell Cindy to come with us, but I saw what happened to Marc and John.

We're also in uncertain times with our costs. We sell a lot of fresh produce, and have already had to add a surcharge to eggs. The cafe is in an affluent area, and a lot of our customers have money, so they can afford the extra charge, but this uncertainty another reason to be glad that this is almost over. This has been an educational experience, but I'll be happy when I can leave this life. Chris and Sylvia will face a lot of uncertainty when they return to their lives....and I can only say that I'm glad that we have a way out.

Dave/Chris: Meeting Chris and Sylvia

A few days ago, I was waiting tables in the cafe, when a couple in their 50s walked in. They had a look around the cafe and then sat down. When the man caught my attention, he called me over. He looked familiar, but it took me a moment to realise that this was the original Chris, and the woman he was with, was Sylvia. "What are you doing here?" I blurted out as soon as I recognised them "Sorry, that was rude of me. I just didn't expect you to show up here. I'm Dave, and Shane is behind the counter at the moment. It's nice to meet you in person". "Likewise", he said. "Sorry we didn't announce ourselves, but we have a few days of vacation, and decided to come here spontaneously. Come back home to some familiarity and see how you guys are doing....as us. It is strange to see yourself through someone else's eyes though." We were actually quite busy that day, and didn't have time to talk, so we decided to meet up later for dinner in an upmarket seafood restaurant that they suggested.

Shane was really stressed getting ready for that night. He complained that he didn't know what to wear. "This is where I really miss being a man. It's easy for you. Just put on a pair of pants and a shirt and you're fine. I don't know what to wear. It's a nice restaurant, and I'm still not sure what's suitable" He went back to his room, and came out again a few minutes later with a couple of dresses and a skirt and a couple of tops. "Which one should I wear?" he asked. "I spotted the blue dress he wore the first time he put on a dress and suggested that. Shane went back to his room and came out again half an hour later.  He had put on his make-up and jewellery and was wearing the blue dress with matching heels.

Dinner was interesting. I don't think I mentioned Chris and Sylvia's new names or what they do yet. They're Roger and Deborah, and both have office jobs. Roger is in middle management in a mid-size company, which Chris said was daunting at first, but that he'd managed to find his way around reasonably quickly. He said that once he realised that he could delegate most of what he didn't know, it became a question of just being organised, rather than needing too many specific skills. Deborah is in marketing, and it seemed like it's been a lot harder for Sylvia. She doesn't have the years of experience that Deborah does, and has messed a few things up. The original Deborah has told her that she loves her job, so Sylvia is now just trying very hard to not get fired before they can switch back.

Shane asked Chris about whether they had considered staying who they are, or maybe trying to find other bodies, given that he's gone from being a trans man to a biological man. "In the beginning, I really thought about it", he replied "but I quickly realised that I miss being a part of the LBGTQ+ community. It might sound strange, because for my whole life I've wanted this - to be a man, with all the right parts, but we have a life here and friends, and to be honest, I find this life dull and lonely. I wish I could keep my penis, and I think Sylvia would probably like it if I could keep it too" he said, winking at her, which made her blush "but I don't think it's worth it. Besides, we've lost about 20 years of our lives. In any case, the original Roger and Deborah want their bodies back. We'd also really like our bodies back, and would be very grateful if you help us to make that happen. We've managed to get reservations in the correct room, so we should be OK." Sylvia chimed in: "yeah, I'm a much older woman, and I don't fit in with other women 'my' age. It might also sound weird, but I really miss being bisexual. Deborah is 100% straight, and women do nothing for me now. I feel like a part of me that I liked a lot, has been ripped away. But what about you?" Chris asked Shane. "You look pretty comfortable as a woman. It's hard to believe that you were a man only a few months ago."

Shane shifted in his seat a little, adjusted his dress and recrossed his legs. "It took me a while to get past the embarassment of wearing women's clothes. At first, I felt like I was crossdressing every day, but when everyone looks at you like it's normal, and you even get a lot of compliments on your appearance, then you get over that pretty quickly. I'm looking forward to getting back, though. It takes far too long to get ready, a lot of the attention I get is too much for me, and I really hate periods. As for your sexuality...well, it's weird because I'm still attracted to women, but now I feel like I'm attracted to everyone....not everyone, literally, but you know what I mean." Sylvia looked at Shane and asked. "Obviously sexual attraction comes with your body, and that body is attracted to Chris' body. You don't have to answer, but have you two....you know, done anything about it? It would definitely be a different experience for both of you." I think both Chris and I felt equally awkward then. We admitted that we hadn't, and tried to change the subject, but the embarassment stayed with us for a while. 

For most of the rest of the meal, we chatted about fairly mundane things, but as we were getting to the end of dinner, There was something I had to ask Chris. "Aren't you worried about how Trump is taking away trans rights? I mean, as far as the government is concerned, I...and in a couple of months, you will be classed as being a woman. It scares me, and I only have to deal with it for a few more months. Do you really want to come back to that?" Chris leaned back and nodded, and said "Yes, it's a very worrying time to be trans, but I've been through worse. I don't know if I told you, but we're originally from a small town in Montana, and when we came out as gay, we were rejected by our families and lost almost all of our friends. When I came out as trans, it was even worse, and we felt like we had to move away to be happy. San Francisco seemed like the obvious place. If we can survive that, then we can survive this. With any luck, it'll be over in 4 years, and I think the Californian government will also protect us as best as they can. I love being a part of this community, and we have so many friends that I'm missing." 

After dinner we decided to go to a bar for a few drinks. It was a gay bar, and I've never been to one before, and I doubt Shane had either. I don't think I had a problem with gay or trans people in my previous life, but I was definitely ignorant. Ignorant of the hardships and challenges they face. I always wondered why you would need bars that define themselves as gay, but having gone to "regular" bars as Chris, I definitely felt safer here, even though Chris does pass quite well, apart from a few things you'd knowingly have to look for, but there's always that fear of being found out. But now, I didn't feel like I had to worry about hiding the fact that I'm a trans man. We found a table and ordered some drinks. Chris and Sylvia are actually very friendly and easy to get along with, so we stayed for a lot longer and had more to drink than we intended.

At some point, we did call it a night, and Shane and I took an Uber home. It had turned out to be both an educational and fun night, but as we walked inside Shane grabbed me and started kissing me. Between kisses, he said: "I've been thinking about what Sylvia said the whole time, about having sex with each other, and it's a huge turn on. I'm really horny." I was too, and we kept going, and we ended up in Shane's bed. I helped him take off his dress and bra, and started playing with his nipples. After a while, my hand went lower and lower, until I reached his pussy. I pulled off his panties and started to rub him around his clit. "Oh god....yes, right there" he moaned. He was very wet, and this would have been the time to fuck him. I couldn't do that, so I did the next best thing and went down on him, licking and sucking, until he tensed up. "Oh...oh...oh" he screamed. 

We lay there for a couple of minutes and caught our breaths. "OK. My turn", he said "If it's too weird or you don't like it, then we can stop at any time." I watched as he pulled down my briefs and pull out the prosthetic, and then he went to work. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine that I was getting a blow job, and if I tried hard enough, I could almost imagine it. It felt a bit strange and different, but having a sexy woman between my legs, regardless of the genitals I had, was a big turn on. Shane kept going and I was getting closer and closer until I finally let out a long, loud moan, as I came. He immediately turned around and maneuvered himself into a position between my legs, where he could grind his pussy into mine. "I've always wanted to try this", he said. It was already a weird feeling that I didn't need any downtime before going again. I could feel his rubbing against my very sensitive enlarged clit, as we scissored and it didn't take long before we both came again. We held each other for a while, before we kissed again and I got up and went to bed. I lay there for a while, thinking about what we did, and whether we should have crossed this line, before drifting off to sleep.

It seems like we're making up for lost time now, because we've had sex for on each of the 3 nights since then, and last night was the first time we used some of the toys, which meant it was the first time I'd put something in my pussy. It's a weird feeling, but the nerves are all there and working. I don't get as wet as Shane - maybe due to the hormones, but with some lubricant, it feels really good. 

So it looks like our pretend relationship is turning into an actual relationship. I don't know how this will affect us when go back, but our friendship will probably never be the same again...

Dave/Chris General Update

I thought I should give everyone an update on what's been happening. The last time I wrote anything was for my birthday, which was 2 months ago. Before I start on any updates, I've noticed that Aiden/Emilia has started calling his (her) sons by their current names and using female pronouns. I haven't done this with Shane. Obviously, everyone else calls him Sylvia and "she", but I call him Shane, and he calls me Dave when we're alone and he hasn't asked me to change that. I think it might make things easier when we change back, and when you're talking to someone, you don't tend to use pronouns at all. This is the only place where I still call him Shane, and "Him". When I talk about him to anyone else, he's obviously Sylvia and "She". I'm not going to change that here, unless there's a reason to.

Anyway....The cafe normally shuts for a week or so over Christmas, and we saw no reason to change this while we were here. We were looking at going away somewhere, but everything was too expensive. We'd left things too late to get any sort of a bargain. "Why don't we go to Indy for Christmas?" suggested Shane. "I'd like to see how things are at home, and we don't have to pay for accommodation, and we don't have any other expenses like renting a car." It sounded like a good idea, so we looked and managed to find a decently priced flight for December 23 to Indy.

It was a strange feeling when we arrived. It's the city I grew up in and know very well, but this body has probably never been there, and nobody I know would ever guess that it's me. We went to our respective houses when we arrived, and decided to have some time for ourselves, before Shane would come to my house on Christmas day for a meal. I never had much to do with the neighbours, and I doubt they even realised that the house was unoccupied since September. It didn't look too bad. I'm sure if it had been left over summer, things would have looked a lot worse, with an overgrown garden, but over winter, not much grows. The first thing I did when I got inside was to open the fridge to get a beer. As soon as I opened it, I was hit by a disgusting smell. I hadn't really thought about it, but of course, I was expecting to only be gone for a couple of weeks, so I didn't clear anything out, and now everything in there had gone off - apart from the beer. I spent the next hour cleaning out unidentifiable mouldy containers and bought some baking soda to soak up the stench. I can't imagine how bad it would have been if we didn't come back until May. I also bought groceries for Christmas dinner. 

It was nice to feel the familiarity of home again, even though my body is quite a bit different to when I was there last, but as I sat in front of the TV, watching whatever rubbish was on, I managed to completely forget about that as well - to the extent that when I had to visit the bathroom, I stood in front of the toilet and forgot that I don't have a cock right now. That hasn't happened to me since the early days of the transformation. When I went to bed, I grabbed a pair of shorts out of my drawer and realised how big they are on me now. I still wore them, just for the familiar feeling, and it was great to be able to sleep in my own bed again.

The next day, I went to my shop. It was still locked up, and the note in the window still said that it would be reopening in late September. I updated it to say May, hoping that I hadn't lost too many customers in my absence. Then I went to one of my favourite restaurants for lunch. I was a regular there for many years, and it was an odd experience to sit there, and recognise all the staff and some of the customers that I've known for years, but for nobody to know who I was.

For Christmas, Shane came by at around lunchtime. He brought some dessert he had made the day before, and then we cooked a nice meal. I'm amazed at how well it turned out, because neither of us were very good cooks before, but working in a cafe and cooking and baking every day for a few months really improved our skills. Even though we never made a proper Christmas dinner before, cooking and baking skills are transferable, and the dinner was delicious and very filling. When we go back to our normal lives, it's something I'll take with me that will be a positive from this experience. We agreed not to get each other presents. There's the whole issue of who to get them for - would I be buying something for Shane or for Sylvia? It was just easier not to do it at all. I just enjoyed being home again, and revelling in the familiarity of it all. Over the time we were home, I spent a lot of time just walking around town, or even just staying at home. I met Shane for dinner a couple of times and we went out to a few of the bars that we used to visit.

On the last night before we flew out, we went out to a cocktail bar that I used to go to with my ex-wife. I don't know why I suggested it - maybe because I was with Shane, who happens to be a hot woman right now, and I kind of wanted to go on a date. I don't know....but while we were there, Stacey, my ex-wife walked straight past our table. She obviously didn't recognise either of us, but I watched her, and she walked to a booth, where a man she was with was waiting for her. He gave her a kiss as she sat down. We've been divorced for a few years, but it's the first time I've seen her with another man, and I felt like I'd been punched in the guts. All I could think about was that this is the guy who replaced me. He's the one who spent Christmas at my house, with my wife and my daughter. I wanted to leave, but I couldn't - I had to stay to see what was happening. Shane urged us to go somewhere else, but I wouldn't. Instead, I asked him to follow her into the bathroom the next time she went, and find out who the guy is. I know it wasn't a good idea, and Shane told me so, but I was adament, and eventually he agreed. After what seemed like hours, I saw her get up and walk past our table to get to the bathroom. Shane got up and followed her. Then he seemed to be gone for a long time before he came back, chatting with my ex, like they were best friends. "Hi I'm Stacey", she said as she got to our table. "Hi, I'm Chris", I replied, as nonchalently as I could, with my heart beating at 100 miles an hour. "Nice to meet you, Chris", she said. "You two have a good time, I have to get back to Brett." I'm glad she left when she did, because I'd already started sweating. 

"So what did she say?" I asked when Stacey was out of earshot. "Well", he started. "Firstly, I'm always amazed how easy it is to start a conversation with a woman in the bathroom, as a woman. I just told her that I liked her dress and it was like we were old friends. It's so much harder for men to start conversations." "Yeah, but what did she say?" I asked, getting impatient. "Well I found out that his name is Brett, and that they're getting married in the summer". I felt like I'd been punched in the guts even harder. "Are you sure you want me to go on?" he asked. "Yes, I need to know", I pleaded. "Well...I asked her if she'd been married before and she wasn't too complimentary about you." He continued. "What did she actually say", I asked again. "I don't think this is very helpful, and I don't know if I should tell you", he said with a concerned look. "You don't look well". "Please, I have to know", I begged. "OK. She said that you were a loser and she doesn't know what she ever saw in you, and the only good thing that came out of it was your daughter". I started to feel physically ill "Anything else?" I whispered. "No. That was it. she didn't seem too keen to keep talking about it. The rest of the conversation was just girl talk."

I had to go home. I really felt like I was going to throw up. We shared an Uber and got to my house first. I wanted Shane to come in with me. My emotions were all over the place and I wanted him to come up with me. Maybe I wanted to have sex with him...I'm not really sure. "Please stay over", I said, and grabbed his hand. He looked at me and obviously sensing what I had in mind said "No. I don't think it's a good idea. If you need to call me later, then call, and we can talk. I'll come by for breakfast tomorrow and then we can go to the airport together. But I don't think you're in a good state of mind right now"

The Uber drove off and I went inside and started to sob. I think even after the divorce, I thought that I could get somehow get back together with Stacey, or at least that we could get along well enough to spend holidays together with our daughter. I couldn't sleep that night, and the next day, Shane came over for breakfast as promised, and we got a ride to the airport to go back to San Francisco. I wasn't in the mood for talking, so it was a very quiet trip back.

Back in San Francisco, we had a low key New Years with friends of Chris and Sylvia, and the change of scenery made me feel better. I slipped back into Chris' life, and the feelings I had in Indy seemed like a lifetime away (which it kind of is). One thing I came to realise is that Chris lives a far more fulfilled life than I do. He has a wife, and a social life in a welcoming community, where he is well known and loved. I have my business, my friendship with Shane and not much else. And ever since I realised this not long after occupying this body, it's made me wonder whether I should even go back. The only thing I was holding onto was the hope that I could reunite with my family. Now that this seems impossible, I don't know what the point of going back is anymore. I can't keep this life, because I'm pretty sure that Chris and Sylvia want to come back, and in any case, I don't want to live out my life as a trans man.

I managed to get reservations for the reopening of the Inn, in the same room that we had when we were transformed, which should pretty much guarantee that we're going back to our original lives. But the question is whether I want to.

Dave/Chris: The Secret is out

As I mentioned before, we reopened the cafe on October 1. Because it opens for breakfast at 7am, and we were still not sure of ourselves, we arrived at 3am, to make sure we had ample time to prepare. We had been there a few times since we arrived, to learn most of it. We were both quite confident using the cash register and making coffee. We had set the tables and familiarized ourselves with where the stock was. Craig, the part time employee, was set to arrive at 6am to help out. All we needed to do now was wait for customers.

I was going to work in the kitchen to start with. I'm not a great cook, but cooking breakfast is mostly about eggs, bacon and toast. Even I can manage that. All things considered, we didn't do too badly. Craig was a big help, and must have wondered how his bosses forgot how to do basic things in the last month. We're getting the hang of though, and I'm sure we'll be fine within a few weeks.

The cafe opens at 7am every morning and closes at 2pm, 7 days a week. We only really need 2 people working every day. The weekends are a little busier, but can still be handled by just 2 people. Craig normally works on Friday and the weekends, which allows me and Shane to alternate between working 5 and 6 days a week. It's not difficult work, but we have to get up by 5am, to get to the cafe by 6:30am. We clean and do as much prep after we close, or we'd have to arrive even earlier. 

At first, Shane was even getting up much earlier, at around 4am, because he needed extra time for his hair and make-up. It wasn't like he was really styling himself, but even the basics took him a long time. He's quickly gotten better, though, so he's now getting up only around 10 minutes before me.

We asked Craig to come in for the whole of the first week, which he was happy to do after having no shifts for several weeks. I told him that we just needed him to get back into the groove of things after being closed for so long. It was a terrible reason, but he didn't say anything. This last week, we went back to the usual schedule. I think we can handle it.

Today after work, Shane brought something up that was very obvious, but I was hoping he would not notice, or ignore: "Why are all our customers gay?" "They're not all gay", I responded "and anyway, why does it make a difference? We're in San Francisco, and there are a lot more gay people than Indy." "No" he said "pretty much every customer is gay, or trans or something. Look at Craig, even he's gay, and I'm fairly certain that Cindy used to be a man. We...well Chris and Sylvia are a straight couple. Why would they have a gay cafe and so many gay friends? Can you explain it?" I just looked at him sheepishly. "You know why" he said "I can tell by the look on your face. Tell me."

So I did. I didn't have much of a choice really. I told him about how Sylvia is bisexual and how she was in a gay relationship with Chris, before Chris came out as trans. I told him about the scars and not having a penis, and weekly hormone injections. Once I finished, Shane got up and walked towards his room, without saying a word. When he got to the door, he turned around and said: "I'm not pissed with you because you don't have a cock. That's not your fault. But I've been 100% honest with you so far, and told you everything, and you kept this from me for weeks. Why?" I couldn't say why. He was right, so I just stammered an apology. He said "I need you to be completely honest and open about everything from now on. So....is there anything else I need to know?" I told him there wasn't.

The trouble is, that that's not true, and it's something that feels much bigger than this was....

Dave/Chris: Make-up makes the (wo)man

Shane is not a computer person. He isn't stupid, he just doesn't care about computers, so he never uses them and so doesn't understand how useful they can be. He was the last person I know to start using email around 10 years ago - reluctantly, when he needed it for his business, and only in the last few years started using messaging apps. Aside from that, he never uses computers. He bought his first smart phone during the covid lockdown, but he still only really uses it for making phone calls. He is the only person that I still have to phone, if I want to contact him. 

I'm also fairly certain that he never watched the video that Sylvia made for him. It's almost inconceivable that she wouldn't mention that Chris was originally a woman and had a sex change. I wasn't going to call him out on it though. I still haven't told him about not having a penis. I don't know when or how I'm going to tell him, and I wished I had told him at the start, because the longer it takes, the harder it seems to be to say something. If I tell him now, he's not going to be happy that I kept this from him.

I mentioned that Shane was going to try to embrace his femininity in my last post, and that includes learning to do make-up and hair. He tried to do it himself, from photos, which was spectacularly unsuccessful. The next day, he went out by himself in the morning. He came home several hours later. His face had been expertly made up and his hair looked great. He also had longer, red nails, and even though he was still wearing just a t-shirt and jeans, he looked beautiful.

I asked him where he'd been, and he told me he went to a department store and asked them to help him in the make up department, and then he went to a hairdresser, who styled his hair. Finally, he'd also gotten a manicure. He had a bag with him and pulled out 5 or 6 fashion magazines and dropped them on the coffee table and proclaimed: "I'm going to try to get this right."

He wanted to go out again, this time for dinner, because in his words "it would be a waste if I didn't go out looking like this", so he went to his room and put on a red dress. This one was a little more daring, in that it showed a little cleavage and a little more leg. He looked good before, but now he was really hot. I put on a nice shirt and trousers, and we went out for dinner at a somewhat fancy Italian restaurant. 

I can't deny that it felt great to have someone looking that good accompanying me. He's slowly becoming more feminine in his actions, and definitely looking less unsure of himself. The fidgeting and uncomfortable shifting has mostly stopped and it's sometimes hard to think of the woman in front of me as being the person that I grew up with and go fishing with. When we got home and I went to the bathroom before going to bed, my pussy was actually a little wet. I don't want to think about what that means.

I haven't really talked much about my pussy. I don't like to look at it or touch it, but whenever I'm in the shower and particularly when I have to sit on the toilet to pee, I can't ignore it. I have had a closer look out of curiosity, and it looks quite normal - for a woman, except that my clitoris is bigger than any I've seen on a woman before. I've googled about all sorts of trans related stuff recently to find out more, and it seems that testosterone makes the clitoris grow. It almost looks like a small penis, and it feels a bit like it when I touch it. But of course, it's not the same. I can't urinate through it, it's still a lot smaller than a penis, and there's an opening I never had before, right under it. The whole area looks and feels wrong. It's hard to explain, but it feels like it shouldn't be a part of me, and I think about that almost all the time. 

Chris has these prosthetics that I found. I wasn't sure what they were at first, but you stick them into your underpants and it makes it look like you have a package down there. I've been using them, because they make me feel more confident somehow. I've asked Shane about how he feels about his pussy, and whether he misses his penis. He shrugged and told me that he wants it back, but he's not missing it as much as he thought he would. 

Of course, he has tits as well. They look like a fairly average size. When I asked about them, he said that he often even forgets that they're there. I'm glad Chris had his removed, because I don't think I could have coped with them, and I certainly can't imagine I would forget that they're there. I saw some old photos on his phone from before he had them removed and they were larger than Shane's. I've also made sure to keep up the testosterone. I've injected myself a few times now. I'm not used to doing it, and I don't like needles, but it's better than having periods.

The next day, Shane was in his room all morning. Every once in a while I heard loud cussing coming from the room. Eventually he came out, with clownish make-up on his face. His hair looked all messed up too. "What's the matter?", I asked. "How fucking hard can it be to put on make-up and curl hair? The women yesterday showed me what she was doing and I'm trying to recreate it, but it isn't working. I tried the curling iron and the more I use it, the worse it looks." I couldn't help but laugh "Did you know anything about make-up and hair when you walked in there yesterday?" "Of course I didn't" he grunted. "That's why I went". I told him "Every other woman that goes in there has at least some basic knowledge. You can't expect to learn it all like that in one go." "Well I can't go there every day until I learn it properly", he said. "Have you checked out YouTube?" I asked. "There are tutorials on everything there. I'm sure you can learn from there." 

He obviously hadn't checked it out, so I showed him how to use it, and how to search for relevant videos. He went back to his room to watch them and tried again. I only got called in twice when he had problems. The first time, he accidentally closed the browser window, and the second time he pressed the mute button. Yes....he really is that bad with computers.

When he came out after a couple of hours, he looked a lot better. His hair was in place, and he had cut down on the amount of make-up he had tried. It wasn't perfect, but definitely acceptable.

Tomorrow, the cafe opens again. I'm nervous about it, but it hasn't been all make-up and fashion at home. We've also tried to prepare for this as well as we can. We've learnt the processes and ordered from the suppliers and we're as ready as we ever will be.

Let's see how things go.

Dave/Chris: Not as much of a man anymore

I was woken this morning by a young woman. Frantic, with a wild look in her eye. She was yelling "Dave, is that you? What the fuck is going on?" I'd never seen her before in my life, and she certainly wasn't one of the ladies we'd spent the evening with the night before. She was wearing Shane's t-shirt, but he didn't seem to be in the room. I sat up and things seemed a little off. I was a lot skinnier than I should have been. I wasn't exactly fat, well maybe a little overweight, but now I felt like I'd lost half my weight. I pulled the drawstring of my shorts tight so they wouldn't fall off and stood up. I was definitely shorter as well - where I'd been close to 6 foot, I was probably about 5"6 now and I was pretty much at eye level with this woman. She said: "It's me, Shane". I must have looked at her like she was crazy, so she grabbed my arm and dragged me into the bathroom. I saw a stranger's face in the mirror, a man, but definitely not me. He was a lot younger than me, probably in his early 20s, although I'm never good at judging ages. He had a beard, but it was a lot less dense than the one I had for years. The face was quite boyish looking. At least my receding hairline looked like it had been fixed, although the hair was much darker than the light brown it had been.

 

I could hear some commotion in other rooms, muffled screams, and yelling. It sounded like we weren't the only ones affected by whatever happened to us. Not knowing what else to do, I looked through the room for clues. I don't know how we hadn't seen it when we got into our rooms, but there were 2 suitcases and a letter in the closet.

 

The letter briefly described that we were staying in a cursed inn and we were expected to live as them until next year. I'm now in the body of Chris (28) and Shane is Sylvia (26), a couple from San Francisco who own a small cafe, which we're apparently supposed to run now. More information about these people and their work was available on their cell phones and laptop..

 

We looked through the suitcases and apart from clothes for our new bodies and the laptop, there were a number of sex toys. Strap-ons, dildos, etc. It looked like this couple were into some kinky stuff. I'm pretty sure we aren't using any of it. I'm not having sex with Shane - it would be way too weird.

 

At some point, I needed to pee, so went to the bathroom, and when I took my shorts off, I screamed. My penis was gone, and I had what looked like a pussy. I had been awake for at least an hour and hadn't noticed. I couldn't understand how I couldn't - I mean, I've always had one, and I would have thought it would be the first thing I'd notice, but I guess there were so many other changes. Shane came to the door and asked what was wrong. I told him to go away and sat on the toilet and did my business, which felt odd and wrong. I took off the top I'd slept in, which was way too big for me now and saw nipples that looked slightly too big, and small surgical scars on my chest. 

 

When I got back to the bedroom, Shane was sitting on the bed and asked what was wrong. I wanted to tell him, but it was too much, so I told him "Nothing, I just freaked out for a sec". He seemed a lot calmer than me, even though his changes were even more than mine. I at least still looked like a man, while he looked like a young woman. Her hair halfway down her back, average sized breasts, pretty face. Shane was always a lot more laid back than me, and he obviously still had that trait. We sat there for a while, not really saying very much, and trying to get over the shock. It was Shane who started talking about the logistics of going across the country to these people's lives. We managed to book a flight for later that day, and looked on Google maps to see where we live and where the cafe is.

Now we have to go to place neither of us have ever been, work in a job we know nothing about, and pretend we're in a relationship together.

 

Oh and we both have to do it without our penises...

Rosie/Ahmir: Goodbyes

Erin, er, "Chris" as he will continue to be known for the next year at least, sat on my bed next to my open suitcase while I was packing. I was struggling with the nitty gritty of it... all of this would still be here for the next Ahmir, (hopefully the original but we can't be sure) but I had to determine what he might need, whoever it is, when he wakes up in this beautiful black body one morning in a few weeks.

Being a white woman in a black man's body in a white man's world... I mean, you can probably tell by how little I wrote about it this year that it's a hard experience to wrap your head around. A lot of the time I just felt normal - aside from the fact that I was doing more physically demanding work - looking down at these thick, dark hands felt natural enough after a few months.

But I'm not going to lie and pretend I lived my life as Ahmir to the fullest. Even when I caught glimpses of "brothas" cutting loose and having a good time, my mind was never that far away from some recent tragedy. And how easily it could be me. I wondered how they could ever stand it. But being angry and afraid all the time is upsetting. Sometimes you want to just be.

Erin has been there for me. We're in a dangerous city and I go through phases where I'm scared to leave my apartment, and he is happy, usually, to come over and hang out. Then there are times when we go out and get a drink, and I'll feel strange because my only friend in the world is a white guy, and I feel other black men looking at me and think I'm not black enough. Well of course I'm not, but what business is it of theirs?

I wish I wrote more here, but every time I tried to, it felt like I was obsessed with the race thing. And if I tried to ignore it and talk about other stuff (it seemed like there were not many aspects of my life it didn't effect) I felt like I was being dishonest.

I wish it was more fun. I wish I could cut loose the way Erin does sometimes, throw myself into some lighthearted dating or something. I had Saraya, which was nice to have someone whose experience was so close to mine, but she decided I just wasn't enough of a man for her. (Maybe I'll see her again in Maine, maybe not.)

Still, I can joke about it, I jokingly say to Erin "Maybe next year you'll catch up to where I got." He blushes a bit. I know he wants to meet someone - female, it would seem - that he can share his time with. Especially now that his "buddy" is going away. He makes a great guy and now that he's got another year maybe he can stop worrying about it. "Nobody would want me," he used to say, self-pitying, "I'm a woman in a janitor's body." So not true. He's got great potential and I can feel this year is going to be great for him.

"You're lucky," I say. "The new-Erin seems like a great person - he'd have to be to agree to stay in your body for another year."

"Well, he got screwed over by the new-you," he answers, adding "no offense," as if he was talking about the real me.

"It's not my fault she's an asshole," I say, "You know, she invited someone else to the Inn to take his body?"

"Yeah, he put a stop to it," he said. "I can't believe he dated her."

"I'm not looking forward to seeing what she's done with my life," I said. But I suppose, deep down, doing anything is probably more use than I was getting out of it.

"Keep in touch, won't you?" he says as we go to the train station together.

"Of course," I say. I wrap him up in a big hug.

I board the train and take my seat, mind drifting off as my Broadway showtunes mix blares in my ears, when someone bumps my leg hard. I swear it wasn't sticking out that badly but I look up to see a very irritated looking white woman.

"Watch it," she sneers, as if it was my fault I've got long legs. I wonder if, mentally, she's adding "N****r."

Erin/Chris: Happenings, and not all good

Ugh. In typical Erin Hanley fashion the moment I make plans - big, literal life-changing plans - they have to get thrown out the window. And in typical fashion, it's not really my fault, but because of a man.

I guess I shouldn't be badmouthing my adopted gender... it turns out I'm going to be here for a while. And unlike some folks, in my case it's by choice... at least in a "this is the right thing to do" sort of way.

So the long story short is that although Chris, the real Chris, is ostensibly a smart guy who went through law school and everything, he isn't necessarily capable of following directions. So when I said to him "Rosie and I are visiting the Inn on July 28, please schedule accordingly," reminding him of our previously agreed-upon dates, he comes back with "Oh I already booked..." for the JUNE. Can you say "Doesn't Follow Directions?" How was he going to make it as a lawyer without having an eye for details??

What a stupid mistake. And he tried to blame me, but I swear I did everything I could. So he sold off his reservation but couldn't get one for the week after, so he reluctantly gave up and told me to live his life for another year.

Okay, fine. But for the last year I have been living Chris DiVito's life like I wasn't going to be here long. I avoided romantic entanglements even when my body and mind pushed me toward them. I kept a crappy job and was barely able to pay rent on Chris' apartment while having any semblance of quality of life. My only big change was getting my hair cut every month and shaving his beard because I didn't like the way it felt.

In 2016 and 2017, I will be living Chris' life for myself. I don't care if he doesn't like what he comes back to, I need to make changes. I want to stop emptying garbage and I would like an apartment I can actually afford (which may mean leaving the city... boo, I love it here!)

I discussed this with Rosie, who was obviously a bit annoyed. She was hoping we would see this through together, and obviously isn't staying as Ahmir. She's grown more and more reclusive as they months have gone on. She feels like an outsider around white people and black people alike. I told her we would still be friends - Portland is far but we're still on the same coast, unlike when I was in Indiana. She said there was more to it than that, but I wasn't sure exactly what that meant.

It was harder to place a call to Justin - the "new Erin" - specifically requesting that he keep my life for another year. It's a crummy position to be in, and I would understand if he didn't want to put up with the hassle of being female for another year. But I know that his girlfriend left him as soon as they became Rosie and Me. I don't know what kind of life the new-him has left, but... I mean, isn't it just easier to stay put, all things considered?

He said he was eager to put it all behind him - that being Erin Hanley represented a very difficult year of his life and he was hoping it would just disappear from his shoulders when he became himself again. But he's considering it. Honestly, if he didn't want to stay as me, I wouldn't blame him, and I would make do... but the fewer transitions I think we can involve, the better chance we have of putting things right next year.

Innbox: J. and M.

Hey guys, Tori here once more. Sorr I haven't posted lately. Life has actually been kind of crazy and I will have to update you soon. For now, here's a letter from the Innbox. I hesitated before offering to post this person's story because it concerns people who are also posting here, but they're okay with it as it turns out. Another reason I hesitated to post it because it was Valentine's day recently, and well... you'll see :(

And remember, if you've got a story to share, please don't hesitate to e-mail us at tradingpoststories@outlook.com - include your name and "Trading Post Story" in the subject to make sure it stands out!

-Tori

Dear Trading Post,

It hasn't been easy finding my way through this situation but I'm doing my best. My name is J_____ (name withheld on request). Back in the summer, I visited the Trading Post with my girlfriend, M_____. The reservation was a surprise for our first anniversary, as she had told me that the beaches of Maine were the most beautiful part of the country. I was skeptical but booked the trip because, well, that's the kind of guy I am.

She had a point, it was quite impressive scenery... the ocean air, the hiking, walking along hand in hand on the beach. And even if the Inn had a spooky, cold "mysterious secret" vibe, we were enjoying our trip immensely, especially since we didn't have much to do except go for long walks and spend hours and hours in bed. That spooky vibe actually helped us feel a little naughtier, if you catch my drift.

I also just realized... what is it about that place? From the second you step foot in there, you can feel the hairs standing on the back of your neck, some voice deep inside saying "Get out of here!" but you never do. Is that part of the magic? Does it "need" victims? Or am I just too lazy to book another room someplace else?

Then it happened. The thing that happens to everyone who stays there, the thing you all know about. I woke up one morning and rolled over to find a stranger in bed with me. Instead of my petite, blonde girlfriend there was a rather larger person, just lying there asleep on her side, as if nothing was wrong.

She was naked, too - draped only in the tatters of my girlfriend's sexy lace nightie.

I panicked, and let out a scream - only to find my voice had gone up a register. I covered my mouth in a truly bizarre "did that come outta me???" moment, and began noticing all the other strange things. The long reddish brown hair. The slender fingers. The fact that my t-shirt was now several sizes too big... even if it was tented by a pair of petite, perky breasts.

To make a long story short, we realized we had become two different people than we had gone to sleep as - I had become Erin Hanley, and my girlfriend had become Rosie Montand. You've met them through this blog, but if you were wondering what had happened to their bodies, it was us.

So, if you've been reading this blog long enough, you can fill in the blanks: "What the? Are you? Did we? We can't... but we have to!" Believe me, I don't think anyone considers it an easy transition to make. nobody in our group seemed to have experienced it before, so we figured it out together.

Erin was out of work. Rosie worked for the school board and as on summer break. There was a silver lining there... we had time to adjust, I guessed, to figure out a plan and work through it together. But then reality reared its ugly head.

M. was not happy. Yes, she obviously felt bad for me, but she was also very focussed on herself. She was... let's say proud of her appearance. She was gorgeous. If she was taller she could have modeled. She was skinny, sexy, a knockout. Now, she was huge. Tall, heavy-set, unkempt-looking. I told her "I still love you no matter what." It was true. She was hard to comfort, though.

It felt strange trying to wrap my now-shorter arms around her now-larger frame, and talk to her like she was still the woman I loved, but she was.

On the last night before we had to check out - when the Inn was mostly vacant - M. sat me down. Tears in her eyes. I had a whole speech prepared about being brave and seeing it through together. I was going to be the strong boyfriend even though I was secretly terrified (and embarrassed and emasculated and everything.)

She told me she had to do this, no matter what. That she was already thinking of breaking up with me once our trip was over, that she had been having doubts for a long time, and now was probably the time to just admit it and go our separate ways. She felt she couldn't possibly continue "faking it" in this form, and didn't want to use me just to feel good, because she knew it wouldn't last in the long run.

I was shocked. After all that had happened to shake our lives up that week, and now this? The ground just dropped out beneath me. I asked why, couldn't we work it out? Shouldn't we be there for each other?

She said no, if she had to pretend to be Rosie, she was going to do it "right," on her own, and make a clean slate. There was no saving us.

So. She went to Rosie's place in Maine, and I went to Erin's in Indiana. And I just... sat, and moped, and tried to get on with the business of being Erin with nobody by my side who knew who I was. I tried to forget M. ever existed., and in the process I almost forgot that J. existed too. But now it's a new year and I have my reservation for the Trading Post. I am doing fine, and I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. I will put things right the best I can.

M. hasn't answered me to confirm if she is going back too, but I can't see why she wouldn't want to. She was so horrified at the thought of being a plus-sized woman that she locked herself in the bathroom to cry for an hour once we knew there was no way back. She's convinced her old body is so perfect that anyone who wound up in it would "steal" it, but even though that's a possibility, I believe what most people want is to put things right.

I don't know. After all she did to me, I feel like I would have a right to say "To hell with her" and not care what happens either way, but I do care, because it involves other people - good people who deserve better than having their body inhabited by a bitter, self-hating, image-obsessed immature woman like my ex.

-J_____.

Rosie/Ahmir: My life so far

So, since Erin is opening up about her - sorry, his - attempts at dating, I guess I will too: There haven't been any.

It was kind of disappointing when Saraya told me she was going to start dating other people, that whatever we were doing as just a bit of fun and that she wanted "a real man." She saw me more like a "gay friend" even if I'm not "officially" gay - being around me is apparently too much like being with a woman, which is fair enough since I am one. But she didn't have to lead me on so much. She didn't seem to think very much of it, and that sort of hurts. It's not like I was in love with her, and I definitely wasn't looking for a relationship, but I think I was having a lot of fun being alone together.

She helped get me out of my head and made me feel pretty normal. Erin tries to do that, too, but I think when we're around each other we spend too much time thinking about our situation. Saraya barely seems to think about it. Being in a new skin is like she just changed her wardrobe: she's still relatively attractive, and young, she just has a different color palette.

She also doesn't think about race stuff as much as I do, even though I feel like it's shoved in our faces a lot of the time.

I feel so uncomfortable around everyone. I feel uncomfortable around white people because they make me feel like I'm something else. I'm uncomfortable around black people because I feel like they can tell I'm not one of them. I wouldn't say my life as a white woman is (was?) cushy... they're both tough, and most days I would give anything to switch places with Erin and have the freedom to just worry about living my life and "having a good time." It took me three months to get a haircut because Ahmir uses a "black" barber shop and I was petrified to go in because I felt like I was violating their space. In the meantime my "afro" got very out of control.

In the short time I've been here I've been called the n-word a few times, both by meanspirited white people (while I was just standing around on the street minding my own business) and Ahmir's friends, using the friendly version with no R on the end... and in respond I just say "Man" or "Buddy" because I'm not comfortable using that kind of language no matter how I look.

Out of everyone else writing on this blog, I think only Jonah/Krystle gets what I'm going through and even he seems to have very different take on it than I do (maybe I've become a bit like he used to be in his original life?)

What's that show called? "Black-ish?" That's how I feel now... except my skin is very dark so to the rest of the world I'm just "black."

It's freaky. It's been 6 months and I still get surprised sometimes at seeing these massive dark hands in front of my face.

There's some advantages. I like being big... I was already pretty large (5'10 and weighing more than you need to know) and the world hated me, pitied me for it, because I wasn't a dainty gal. I didn't look good, didn't feel good... the men who were interested in me thought I should feel lucky to have their attention. Now I take up almost the same amount of space (less, actually, since my booty shrunk quite a bit) but it's like I'm supposed to. Men are "supposed" to be big and brawny. Take all the space they need. Finding clothes isn't a problem. I have muscles... although not as many as I did when I started since I don't go to the gym or anything. I like looking men in the eyes or shaking their hands and feeling like they see me as something of an equal.

In my normal life I was working as a school receptionist. They don't usually hire men for those jobs so I didn't bother applying. Ahmir was working construction, and even if I have the body for it I'm not really interested in that sort of thing, so I hooked up with a temp agency and have had a few contract jobs, nothing consistent or fulfilling but it mostly pays the bills. It's strange to keep having to meet new people and get their impression of me (soft-spoken large black man who is secretly a 30-year-old white woman?) and I haven't had the chance to get comfortable anywhere. That's what my life is... a constant cycle of learning the ropes and counting the days until I "get to" go back to normal.

I don't want to judge Erin for "having it easy." S/he's aware of the difference in our situations and tries not to rub it in my face. I'm really happy if she can find ways to enjoy this. Maybe I will too.

Erin/Chris: SEX. Now that I have your attention...

I know I shouldn't, but I can't help myself. I started an online dating profile.

The smart thing to do, if you're me, is to sit on your butt and let life pass you by. You are in an art gallery. Looking is permitted, but you can't actually touch the installations. You don't own them. Respect the velvet rope.

I've been struggling with that line of thinking since I got here. I couldn't avoid making an impact on Chris' life: he lost his job between the transformation, and the lack of finances coming in from my custodian job means I'm going to have to find a new place to live soon, probably. So I've already made a small mess, but no biggie. He can recover when he comes back.

It clicked for me one day last month. I was on the subway, watching this beautiful blonde girl take her seat, maybe 22 or so. Long legs, wearing yoga pants... I tried not to stare too long, but I did despite myself. I kept finding my eyes flickering in her direction, between looking at the ads and watching the stations speed by. I admired her subtle makeup job, the way her hair fell casually, her cute nose... even under the winter apparel I could somewhat admire her figure, too. I felt really crummy, like I was on the brink of becoming one of those sleazy guys who whips it out on the train, or follows the woman around.

The worst part was, I thought I noticed her glancing my way. Repeatedly, intentionally... not negatively.

As a man... which I am at least 60% at this point... you yearn for that. Attention, being noticed... someone noticing you noticing them and not hating it. I feel crappy doing it because I know how paranoid women have to be when strangers take an interest in them. I don't want to be that way, but this overwhelming urge pulls me, and I just have to keep a grip on myself. It could even have been just my imagination, but it stoked my fires a bit.

I tried not to look her way again until I got to my stop. I stood to go to the door, and she go up too. What a coincidence! I was aware of her behind me, and considered letting her pass me on the steps, but then I worried that I might end up following her accidentally, so I went on my way and lost track of her. That night, I posted a missed connection, alluding to the stops where I she got on and off and a description of myself, but nothing happened.

It was disappointing, but I knew it was a longshot. Still, I was left with an impression. I wasn't exactly in denial about being attracted to ladies: my fixation on Andrea proved that to me. But I felt like I had it under control and it was smarter to ignore it. But gradually, it dawned on me that I wanted it more than I wanted not to make trouble. I wanted to feel a full range of things while in this body. I've been a timid little house mouse my whole life. Time to get out there.

That ache of jealousy I felt when I read some of my Blog-compatriots posts about their romantic entanglements - positive or not - confirmed that.

So far, however, the results have been... ho hum. I haven't even been on a date. Mostly I just glance at photos of women and give myself reasons to write them off, whether based on their appearance (mostly style, I mean... I'm trying to keep an open mind when it comes to looks!) or their interests, or the way they answer the profile questions about sex and dating. Too much experience and I get intimidated, too little and I think she's a prude.

I hate myself. But if I'm going to mess up my life for the sake of a little fun, it had better meet my standards.

I have contacted a few women, usually including a joke or reference to something they put in their profile. Occasionally I get a response but usually it peters out... I decide she isn't so exciting after all, or she ghosts me. One time I gave a girl my number and we texted for a solid day and that was very exciting, but then she turned around and said she had met someone else and it was getting serious (apparently they had met before I even contacted her.) Out of 22 women I've messaged, 10 have answered back, and three I would have met in person. A few women have messaged me (but I had to tinker with my profile endlessly to get to that point) and I try to give them the benefit of the doubt, but they've all gone nowhere too. women aren't exactly falling over themselves to date young janitors.

Even if I met someone, I psych myself out by wondering what the long term plan is: hookups until we have to have an uncomfortable conversation about getting serious, where I somehow explain that I can't be in a relationship past June? Do I just shrug my shoulders and let someone get hurt? Chris has made it clear he doesn't mind if I have some fun... apparently, he figures he would just slide into my role when he gets back... I would rather break up with someone than do that. Which sucks, but one thing at a time, I guess.

And let's face it... I know what I really want. Andrea. I still think about her, text her... every so often she asks me out for drinks or some other activity, but I have to resist because that was the one request Chris made of me. No delving into the past.

Lastly, there's that huge snowstorm barrelling down on the East coast, so I hope everyone else on the blog (those of us located here) stays safe and warm. You're all so kind and helpful.

Erin/Chris: Guys Don't Dance

It's been a little bit since I posted. Mostly I'm just fatigued from work and attempting to have a life. The second one is a hard balance to strike, because I do feel confined by what I can do with Chris' life. Most guys who are not in relationships tend to construct their social lives around trying to get in one. They meet potential dates online, or they go to bars and hit on girls, or whatever. Guys don't go dancing for the sake of dancing. They do sometimes grab drinks together, but they talk about sports, or maybe The Walking Dead or other things boys like. It doesn't help that the New York Mets team made the Baseball World Series (you can tell I'm not much of a sports gal, eh? I did sometimes watch Colts games with an ex, but that's about it.) That was all anyone wanted to talk about for months, and then they started losing to the Kansas team, and suddenly it was just "Yeah... friggin' Mets."

Guys: They take so little notice of each other's behavior that that was all I said for weeks and it seemed like I was totally up to speed on what was going on.

OK. It's not like drinks with the girls was a Mensa meeting. I just miss talking about style and celebrity gossip. You can't turn to one of your 40-year-old male co-workers and say "Did you see that People cover with Khloe Kardashian on it?" You know he didn't. And if you bring up Caitlin, you'd better be prepared for some really awkward responses.

I thought Rosie would be my partner in this, but she's proven surprisingly adept at blending in, memorizing stats about the Mets, Jets, and Nets, ("Hey all the teams around here rhyme, isn't that weird?" is another thing guys will look at you weird for saying.) and other sports trivia. When it's just the two of us you can hear the femininity in her voice, but she puts on a gruff "street" imitation around others that, well, sounds really fake to me but I guess the others don't have any reason to question it.

He's also a bit more flirty around women... although he insists he doesn't mean anything by it, it's just a bit more confidence.

Which brings us to Halloween.

A month ago, I would have thought I'd have to do the hard sell on getting him to hit up a Halloween party, but he was very receptive to it. We even considered doing a group costume, but his only idea was "Men in Black," which I didn't want to do because that's basically just a suit (and sunglasses... at night. Come on.) But I wanted to take advantage of something I never got to do as a woman.

I know for a lot of girls, it's no big thing to dress skimpy on Halloween, but it was never something I did. I just never had the relationship with my body that would let me do that. On my best day I considered myself more for cute costumes than sexy, and on my worst I was very embarrassed about my belly fat and uneven shape. I feel bad for harping about it - it could have been worse, I suppose, but every woman is allowed her flaws to focus on.

So I decided to just go for it - hopefully, this will be my only Halloween outside of my own body (I've read enough of this blog not to be too naïve about it... and trust me, that's a hard idea to come to terms with!) - so I decided to let myself run a little more wild and get a Tarzan costume, a one-piece with a single shoulder strap, loin cloth, and bare chest. Chris' body isn't exactly cut and rippling with muscle - more lean and decently-defined - but to be honest, I looked pretty sexy, in a goofy "this guy doesn't take himself too serious" kind of way. I liked it.

Which was a hard feeling to pin down. "Why," I wondered? I think the man in the mirror is handsome enough, in an average-white-guy kind of way, but maybe not a head-turner. And anyway it's not like I want to make out with myself, or any guy. While I haven't suddenly un-learned a lifetime of appreciating the male form, I find my interest is a lot more passive lately... guys leave me alone, and I'm strangely OK leaving them alone. But I know what I like as a woman, and therefore what some women like, so I thought "It's nice to feel attractive to the opposite sex." To feel special.

To feel like... if I wanted to pick up a girl tonight, I would stand a chance.

I didn't think I would want to, though. The whole idea feels like a nightmare. I'm not a one-night-stand type of person, and it would be pretty cruel of me to start something serious with someone knowing I don't plan on staying Chris forever. I have some feelings I probably shouldn't act on, and while suppressing them doesn't feel good, it's probably best for everybody if I just... keep my hands to myself, you know? More trouble than it's worth.

I swung by Ahmir's apartment to head to the party together, and he answered the door in a Batman t-shirt. I scoffed, "That's your costume?"

"Don't tell me Batman can't be black," he said in response.

"No, but he doesn't wear a t-shirt," I said, "He wears, like... a cape, and a mask."

"I've got a cape," he said, pulling out one that looked like it was more from a Dracula costume.

I sighed, "For $30 you could get a halfway decent costume, but whatever."

Then I heard someone in the bathroom clinking around. I gave him a weird look: "Who else is here?" not like he wasn't allowed to have friends, but... he's not overly social, and we're pretty protective of our mutual secret.

"Sorry, I invited her..." he started to say, when the woman in question poked her head out to see me.

"Oh, hey Erin! ... or, sorry, Chris," said Lexi, also known as Saraya... a fellow Inn person who was currently residing in Jersey. She was dressed in a very revealing black outfit (basically: a bra and hotpants) with kitty ears that I supposed was meant to be Catwoman. She looked me up and down: "Hot costume, you're really working it, boy."

I blushed a bit. Rosie stammered an explanation, "Lexi hates it out in the 'burbs, so I offered her a night out, hope you don't mind..."

I looked back and forth between the two of them. My mind was swimming with questions. What was the meaning of this? Was it wrong for me to assume it was anything but innocent? Did it matter if it was? Was it any of my business??

"The more the merrier," I said, not able to mask my lack of enthusiasm. I don't know why, I just... she didn't make a great first impression on me back in the day, but I can probably forgive her since we were all stressed. "How've you been?"

"Dying," she said, "Like literally dying. There's nothing to do except work and stay home. I'm like, itching for some action."

"Yeah, I get the feeling," I said, trying to renew my friendly exterior.

She continued, "And like, all Saraya's friends are black and brown and stuff, and no offense to her but I don't get them at all."

I preferred to interpret this as culture shock and not, more likely, low-key racism.

But I bit my tongue. If she and Rosie had struck up a friendship, that was good. I felt a little out of the loop, and jealous because I suddenly felt like Rosie had let Lexi in on stuff she had kept from me, but... we've got to stick together, right?

On the cab ride over, I rode in the front, and Lexi peppered me with questions that probably made the cab driver very confused: "So what's it like to have a dick? Rosie won't say anything. Do you love it? How easy is it to get an erection? Is it fun to jerk off? Oh my God, if I had a dick I would have so much sex it would be disgusting. I'm not even gay, I swear."

I almost barrel rolled right out of the car.

Eventually we made it to the club and I felt very... odd. Very much like a third wheel, for starters... I entertained notions that "Ahmir" might be my "wingman" for some harmless flirting, but "Saraya" attached herself to him and dragged him out onto the dancefloor. I looked, it was full of women in revealing costumes (one literally just wore a bikini and sunglasses on top of her head.) Some were dancing with guys they had brought, but mostly the guys hung around the tables chatting women up, and the women were dancing in groups. And suddenly all my newfound male confidence fled me, I had no idea what to do or why I should even bother... I just felt like some loser in a silly costume.

I ordered a rum and coke, and then another, as I watched girls having fun from a distance... longing to be among them somehow. And then halfway through that, as I began to dream up what I might say to approach a woman, it hit me.

A purse.

Specifically the purse of Andrea Molinaro, dressed as a sexy nurse. It was a Coach bag with a red cross taped on it to make it look like a medicine bag, cute. And it smacked me right out of nowhere, not hard enough that it was meant to damage, but hard enough to startle me and feel less-than-playful.

"You never texted me!" she said over the music.

It had been over a month since we ran into each other at the bar. She had seemed oddly happy to see me then, and I had given it some thought... in my weaker moments... but decided to leave well enough alone. Chris described her to me as "trouble," and said I "should stay away," but he didn't appear to make it a hard and fast rule. Privately, I had hoped for another chance encounter so that I could say I didn't ask for it, and yet now that I had one, I was a bit dumbstruck.

I also didn't remember saying I would text her, but I guess the assumption was that she would be on my mind (which she was) so I couldn't resist.

"Sorry about that," I said, as if it was an accident.

"Don't worry about it, I've been busy," she said playfully. "How about you, still scrubbing toilets instead of lawyering?"

"For the moment, yep," I said.

"I would never in a million years think you'd be satisfied with that!"

And I'm not, but... well, not for the reasons she thinks.

"What can I say?" I said, raising my voice over the dubstep or house or whatever it was "I'm trying to simplify!"

"That's a good word!" she said, then turned to the bartender and ordered a screwdriver, two shots of tequila, and a beer. When the shots came, she nudged one over to me.

"Oh, no thanks," I said.

"Don't be a baby!" she said back, downing her shot, then sipping from her screwdriver (which looked better than my drink, but I guess I've developed a weird complex about the masculinity of cocktails.) "It's a party! You look so sad!"

"My friend ditched me... Ahmir..." I said, in case she knew him.

"So? Get out there and have a good time!"

"Maybe later..." I said.

That's when a guy dressed in black with a mask came over to take the beer. Taller than me, well-built, good jaw... handsome fella.

"Who's this?" asked the guy.

"This is my friend Chris. Chris this is Sam." He gave me a firm handshake. She didn't say "my boyfriend" or even "my date," so the nature of their relationship was ambiguous.

"Nice costume, what is that, Tuxedo Mask?"

"Zorro," he said. He didn't even have a hat or a sword, but whatever.

Turning to him, she said, "Let's go dance!"

"Babe, I just got my drink!"

"Chris will watch it!" Suddenly I felt very emasculated... and considering I wasn't masculine at all six months ago, it was a hell of a feeling.

"Naw," he said, taking a sip, "I don't dance."

"Come on! Just one song!" She ran her finger up and down his arm seductively, but he wasn't convinced. "Okay fine," she said, turning to me, "Chris, you wanna dance?"

I looked between the two of them. "Oh, I don't know if I should..."

"He won't mind!" she insisted, "He had his chance. It's just a dance fer Christ's sake!"

I winced, "Yeah, okay. If it's okay with your... friend."

He gave me a look that said "whatever." Across the room I saw Ahmir and Saraya getting very close (he's tall enough that you can usually spot him in a crowd) and figured: why not? But before she would lead me to the dancefloor, she made me down the tequila. That helped.

I was very distracted trying to remind myself it was just a dance, as she moved around me. I wasn't sure how to act: how could I keep my male composure but also try to look like I was having fun? I moved very slightly in response to her body, and we started to find a rhythm.

The more momentum we got, the faster we moved, and then the closer we got... and my little friend started to go on, um, "high alert."

I felt myself getting weak in the knees, with an energetic rush of hormones pushing me forward. Soon, she was completely into it, grinding on me. I was sure she could tell what I was packing in my loincloth, and... well, it didn't seem like she minded. It lasted for to or three songs - we just kept going - and by the end, I had my arms tightly around her hips, and she was leaning back into me.

Eventually we got to a stopping place. She leaned over and said "I'm gonna go find Sam - you stay here and have fun! All the girls wanna dance with you now!"

I turned to my left, and sure enough, a beautiful blonde dressed as a diner waitress was smiling at me. I looked her up and down - she had a very good body and a very pretty face - and started to dance with her. It was nice, but we didn't have quite the chemistry as I did with Andrea... which is hard to explain since I knew Andrea was basically off limits and this girl didn't seem to be. But I guess I imprinted a bit on her, being the first woman who's seemed interested in me.

So I thanked the blonde for the dance, and headed back to the bar, where I found Andrea: alone, quietly sipping on another cocktail.

"Are you okay?" I asked, trying to be sensitive but still having to talk over the music.

"Yeah, sure," she nodded. "Sam took off. I think he was pissed that I danced with you for so long."

"Oh, sorry about that."

"Don't worry about it," she said back, "It was our second date. I don't think there's gonna be a third."

I wisely kept my mouth shut instead of saying "I wouldn't like it if you ditched me to go dance with your ex either."

"I'm gonna get a cab," she said. "You wanna come back to my place for a bit?"

A million thoughts crossed my mind, but it basically amounted to: For sex? It's not like I hadn't thought this was a possible outcome for the night, but I hadn't really decided which side of the decision I would come down on. Physically, I wanted it to happen, just to satisfy my curiosity and take my hormones to their logical conclusion... but intellectually I knew it was asking for trouble. I contemplated sending her home alone, but leaving a woman drunk, alone, in the city on a Saturday night? I may not have been a man very long but I know how to be a gentleman.

"Sure, yeah," I said after what seemed like forever but was probably more like 30 seconds.

She hailed the cab and gave her address (I made note of this since it was probably something I was expected to know.) We sat quietly, awkwardly for a minute or two, when she said "It was so lucky I ran into you tonight. When you didn't text, I was worried you hated me."

My stomach sank. It really didn't seem like the real Chris has much good feelings for this girl, but I can't dislike someone just because he did.

"I'm... over it, I guess..." I said vaguely. I wasn't sure what that might mean, but I figured there was something to 'be over.'

"That's good," she said. "The past is the past, right?"

"Sure," I said.

She leaned over and rested her head on my shoulder. She smelled really nice.

I think it was in that moment I decided I had to leave as soon as I could. Whatever this girl was feeling, it wasn't for me, and it wasn't fair to represent myself as Chris. Other peoples' hearts are at stake.

We awkwardly made our way to her apartment, I had to not seem like it was all new to me. I figured if she asked, I would say - not inaccurately - that it had been long enough since "we" had dated that the layout of her building slipped my mind.

We got to her place. She asked if I was hungry - I was starving, actually - so she put a frozen pizza in the oven. Then she fell asleep on the couch while we were waiting for it to cook. I couldn't wake her up to offer her any, so I ate most of it myself.

Around 1 AM - the second one, given the time change - I decided I was probably strong enough to pick her up and carry her to bed (I was, but not by a lot.) She sleepily acknowledged this with an adorable little coo. As I pulled some covers over her, I heard her mutter, "Don't go."

I had to admit... Brooklyn is still a strange place to me, and I may look like a male but I have the learned experience of a woman, and men get mugged plenty often anyway, to say nothing of the fact that I was dressed as Tarzan. I decided it wouldn't be so bad to just crash on her couch.

I woke up around 8:30 AM with a nasty crick in my neck but otherwise fine: I'm always very impressed with this body's ability to handle alcohol (Drinking at the limit of my real body, I don't even get a hangover - how about that!) It took me a moment to realize where I was and how I was dressed.

I'm trying to get used to the subway here, but I didn't really want to sit in a crowded car for too long dressed this way, so I called for a cab and went home and made myself some breakfast. Before I left, I wrote out a note saying I hoped she felt good in the morning, thanks for letting me crash, we'll keep in touch.

I texted Rosie some basic updates about how my night had worked out, and opted to let him decide whether to fill me in on his. (It basically amounted to: they stayed until last call then went back to his place and fell asleep... if I'm to take his word for it.)

Then at 2 I got a text from Andrea: "Lol @ ur note."

"Just being polite :)"

"Such a nice boy. Ur welcome. Anytime. <3 p="">
I felt that strange feeling wash over me... very bashful at her appreciation for me. And wanting more.

This isn't going to be an easy year.

Erin/Chris: Men at Work

When Chris visited the Inn, it disrupted a lot of his plans. He was nearly done law school and had a very good internship waiting for him to finish his education. He figured he had time to squeeze in a quick vacation, but oops, one day he wakes up in a new person's body, and then some weeks later I'm in his shoes, with no job and no real prospects.

Even though he's considerably younger than I am, his resume is pretty impressive. He's spent summers working at some pretty well-known companies since he was in high school. He's well educated. And what can I say, he's a pretty handsome fellow (in certain lights) so he should be able to make a good impression at an interview.

The problem is, nobody's hiring. He even gave me leads on several companies where he had contacts that could tide me over until I could hand his body back off to him, and they expressed remorse that they didn't have room for me. It was a bit of a relief: I have office experience, but in sleepy Midwestern supply chain firms. I don't think I'm ready for the big city pressure cooker. I don't know if I ever would be.

So I went a way that the real Chris DeVito probably wouldn't have dreamed. They always need janitors.

Okay, it's not ideal, but what was I going to do, start a career? I'm planning to do as little disruption to Chris' life arc as possible. So I spend a few months scrubbing toilets. It gives me the money I need to afford rent on a nice Brooklyn apartment. Keeps me out of trouble. And it's not that disgusting.

Besides, it makes me feel like such a man, which I kind of like. After work, I go out with "the guys" to a sports bar to watch baseball and listen to what the guys talk about (turns out it's mostly women, in less than glowing terms.) I don't always relate, and sometimes duck out early, but I find it important to maintain some outside activities, and this is my best option. I invite Rosie sometimes, but she's... not feeling it. The media has her really spooked and she's convinced that just by going outside in New York City, looking like a black man, she's putting her life in danger. I wish I could convince her otherwise, but... well, you've seen the news this past year.

So she's become something of a shut-in, and I'm, well... not flourishing exactly, but I'm making friends, keeping my head down. Except not.

Because one night a few weeks ago, I was out at the bar, heading back from the washroom (urinals, I get such a kick out of those things) when I felt someone grab my elbow and say "Chris! Chris!" in a distinctly New York accent.

It still takes me a second to realize that name refers to me.

I turned and there's this absolutely gorgeous girl looking at me, waiting for me to recognize her. She was wearing a low cut top and short skirt, even though the weather had taken a chilly turn. This is my nightmare, in a way: in the time I've been Chris, I've managed to avoid accidentally bumping into anyone he knows while going about my business. This is someone I haven't encountered in my research about Chris' life.

I probably stood there with my jaw open like an idiot for thirty seconds (both in shock and, well, admiration for her appearance) before I formulated an answer: "Oh, I didn't see you there!"

She motioned for a hug in a way that suggested this gesture wasn't a given between us, but that if I allowed it she'd like it. I let her, but I made it a quick one, briefly resting my chin on her shoulder (being taller but not a giant is quite nice in these scenarios.) I decided I was really going to fake my way through this: "How... are you?"

"I'm good!" she said, "Still dong the receptionist thing, occasionally going on auditions though."

"Right, right. Of course," I said, "I hope that works out for you."

She looked at me like she was trying to figure something out: "I heard you, like... dropped out? You ditched articling and now you're unemployed?"

Whoever this person was, she was obviously privy to the grapevine of my life.

"Well that's... sort of true. I just let the stress get to me, I needed a break. I'll probably get back to it in a year or so."

"A year?" she gasped, "Wow, that's really unlike you. That's not the driven Chris DeVito I know. Aren't you worried your opportunities are going to dry up?"

"Oh, it'll work out, I'm sure," I said.

"Now you're scaring me," she said, looking at me suspiciously, "I mean, where was this attitude when we were going out?"

Oh... dang.

I stammered a response along the lines of "Well, I'm just trying something different, I don't think I've changed too much as a person..."

"Sure, uh huh," she said in disbelief. "Listen, my friends are about to leave, but I'm not sure I'm ready to go yet... do you want to have a drink?"

My immediate instinct was that it wasn't a good idea. This person had a past with Chris - a romantic past that I knew nothing about. If she wanted to re-hash old times, I was screwed. I politely excused myself and said "Maybe later, I'm... with people."

"Yeah, totally. I get it," she said, obviously disappointed.

I went back with the guys, and they were going on about some uninteresting topic like the Yankees' playoff chances, and I found my attention drifting. I looked back over my shoulder to see if she was there.

I didn't see her.

I went home feeling relieved, but also regretful. Maybe I could have talked to this woman as just a friend. I have really missed female companionship. She seemed really nice, I felt like I could trust myself not to cross a line.

But it wasn't until I was lying awake until 3 AM that night still thinking what if I had had that drink with her that I started to suspect it was more than friendship I wanted.

It's stupid. The last thing I need at this time in my life is to complicate Chris' with romantic entanglements. I'm smarter and better than to put him through that. "You don't really like her, because you don't know her. It just some stupid hormonal response because she smiled at you."

And I thought - that's so weird, that a woman smiling at me is all it takes. The right woman, smiling the right way, I tried to dismiss it, but my body was telling me a different story.

I can't pin down what, exactly, does it for me. My impulses didn't change overnight, but they do seem to have changed. I would have thought it was like my brain would send a message to my genitals: "I find that person attractive, please react," but it's more like... the genitals see it first. Chris' body reacts and I have to interpret what exactly just happened. No wonder men think with their dicks, it seems to be the only part of my body that knows what it wants. And right then, it was sending me a very strong message.

I'm not dumb, but I am inexperienced. I tried to just fall asleep with it, but it was like an alarm was going off in my head. "Something's started, you have to finish it!" Even if I never meant to start anything.

So, for the third or fourth time since I've been here - and the first that involved a genuine response to another human being - I pulled out the lotion and the tissues and went to "work."

It's weird. It's like a race to the finish. You just... want to keep going, chasing a pleasure that's just out of reach, until finally you catch it, the bubble bursts, and well, you've got a mess on your hands. And then you want nothing to do with anything afterward. Like, there's a fraction of a second of really good feeling, and then you're just left wondering what the point of it all was, not at all like the experience of a woman. With that knowledge in hand, it's actually not surprising that sexually-minded men come to enjoy the perks of womanhood - no offense to my host gender.

But then the next day you find yourself craving that feeling, or the chase of it, all over again, and suddenly male lust makes a lot of sad sense to me. And I'm stuck with it. (And that episode of Seinfeld with "The Contest" also seems funnier.)

It's like I'm in puberty. By Chris' age, men are supposed to be more or less used to all this, but it's new to me, so I'm feeling this surge of hormones that's all very novel. I think I'm more sensitive... that explains how just a bit of touch and conversation could linger with me so long. hopefully things even out and I don't become some kind of sex crazed maniac.

The next day, I couldn't shake her from my head, so I e-mailed Chris and asked her who she was, based on a description and her reference to being a receptionist and going on auditions. He explained that this was Andrea Molinaro, who he dated for a few months off and on last year. "She's trouble, you should stay away."

She didn't give me much of a bad vibe from our brief conversation, but it was brief, so he would know better than I would. But he didn't tell me I had to stay away, he just suggested, implying that I had some say in the matter.

Anytime I've been back to that bar in the weeks since, I've checked the place to see if she was there. No luck since.

I feel... pretty conflicted about that. The smart thing is to keep my head down and get through this year, but... I'm going a little stir crazy here, would it kill me to branch out a little? As long as I play it safe?