Surprisingly enough, I haven't felt the need to post much since everything went down between me and Kitty back in May. There has been a lot of day-to-day stuff that might have been interesting but really just fades away.
Kit and I have, at best, been treating each other like co-workers. We see each other around the house and try to be polite but generally keep our distance. At our worst times, we snipe at each other because I suspect there's still some bitterness coming my way for not trying harder to make things last. Sometimes Dylan gets drafted into our drama, which I hate. The kid's life is already messed up enough without essentially being a pawn in a "divorce."
We eat separately - it sucks that we can't seem to stand sitting down at a table together, but he's been working late (on purpose, to avoid me?) so he just gets his meal when he gets home. We alternate weeks sleeping in the spare bedroom (I was going to suck it up and move in there, but he insisted we be "fair.")
I dropped in on Meghan for a weekend at the beginning of the month. It felt good to get out of the house but I'm not sure that was the right place to go, especially considering her boyfriend was around. They've been together for a long while now and while I could tell she was uncomfortable showing off in front of me, it's not like I could ask for too much privacy. She does her best to downplay it but I see the way he makes her smile, how happy they are to be around each other. Maybe there's a bit of guilt inside of her for being happy in front of me and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a bit jealous of him, but I'm doing my best to move on.
He must have been pretty confused why Meg was so keen to host this older, married woman, but you know, we just explained it as one of those odd friendships people make. She also said it made her feel a bit wrong to be unable to come clean and admit that I was her ex... and she later added, it felt strange to try to imagine me as Tyler, even though this is the fourth face she's known me with. (That didn't feel good but again I tried not to take it personally. She doesn't know Judith!Tyler well.)
It was an interesting moment, greeting each other after so long apart... she's only seen me a few times with this face, but we embraced like old friends. I can see her searching me every so often to see the Tyler she knows behind my eyes.
She complimented my shorter hairstyle and said I was really getting the hang of makeup. I told her it had been a must for the ladies at the Events company, you always had to look good and put on a good face - jewelry, heels, lipstick, everything. And Kitty was very into teaching me, not to mention what I remembered from my brief experiments as Lauren.
She looks different too. Now that her knee has healed she's working out a bit more. She's wearing her hair differently, longer, coloring it. Being a woman - ostensibly a straight one - hasn't erased all my lingering feelings, and in fact I probably appreciate her looks more now that I'm on this side of the equation. It was different when we were "Lauren and Tasha," because Tasha was sexy in a very obvious way, and while I could gawk at her body it was almost hard to treat her like a real person, because she was so tall, skinny and big-breasted, especially while I was so much smaller and childlike, dealing with my own issues with Lauren's body. What I feel for her now is only a dulled version of what I felt as Alan... after all, there's more to attraction than just seeing someone and thinking they're hot. It's about the feelings that appearance brings up. I see her, and in my mind, I'm not necessarily Judith anymore. But then there's a chemical reaction that conflicts with that and makes me land on "Hmm, just a fellow woman whose appearance I appreciate, but a very important person to me anyway." It's almost indescribable, to feel that change, that lack of a feeling that used to be there.
It doesn't help that Justin, her boyfriend, is a really handsome guy. Pretty eyes, in good shape but not freakishly so. Short, wavy, well-styled hair. I wouldn't mind having a body like his next time.
With my luck though...? I don't even want to think about it.
I'm getting off topic, but a lot of what we talked about was my trip to the Inn at the end of the month, and the then-recent news of Jordan's brother Max. These ladies, they make the chump who stole my body look like an amateur, but I bet they can be dealt with. I really hope for the best for those guys.
I've had some issues to deal with on my own. It's been stressful, trying to organize people into various waves, but the key issue for me has been getting Olivia, Dylan, and his parents their bodies back. Everything else feels optional. (Okay, I would also like for the real O'Riley kids - the ones whose bodies Dylan's parents are in - to get to go back to being kids.) Knock on wood, but I feel like I've got all my ducks in a row.
"I can't help but worry," she said. "You're throwing yourself into the great unknown again, just so a family can be reunited."
I smiled modestly, "What choice have I got? I don't belong here."
"Maybe not," she shrugged, "But you grew into it nicely. When the chips were down, you made a good mother."
"Yeah. Can I be honest? The worst part of this is giving this up. It feels strangely - dangerously - like I'm giving up my own child, not just returning the kid to his real parents. On the one hand, it's putting things where they belong, on the other it's like giving up a piece of myself. I should be more excited to be on my own again..."
She didn't hide her smile at this. "Oh, Tyler... you'll be a real parent someday."
I got very teary at that. Maybe it will happen. I can't even think about it until who knows when - the unlikely chance I ever have an opportunity to live a life that's my own. That would be an end to all this: endless shifting around, taking up other peoples' lives, having my biology monkeyed with every year.
Meg wrapped her arms around me while I tried not to cry.
"Remember the time..." she finally said, "When I was Tasha, and I spilled Orange Soda on my top at the mall... and those Bro's at the next table said I should take it off so it would dry... and you threatened to stuff them in a garbage can?"
I laughed, "Heh... I would have done it, you know."
"You weighed 90 Lbs. You weren't stuffing either of them anywhere."
We laughed a while and reminisced about old times late into the night, trying hard not to think about the future.
In the morning, I left relatively early. Before I got in the car, I turned to her and said, "I want what you have."
She joked, "A giant butt? Because you kinda already do."
I rolled my eyes. "My butt's not giant. And neither is yours. No, I mean, with Justin. You did good."
"Thank you," she said, "It's not perfect, but it's pretty close. I know you'll find it, too, if you're lucky enough to settle down at last. I bet it's sooner than you think."
I did my best to resist the urge to say what we both knew I was thinking - that I wished things had gone differently between us, that the year I spent pining for her paid off better than me running off in fear and frustration, that somehow the stars had aligned that we could patch things up. She didn't need to hear that (although now that I'm back in New Hampshire I feel more comfortable saying so - again, this is stuff she probably already knows.) But it was always on my mind. It's probably for the best, for all of us, if I wind up in a body where we can't get back together again even if she were single. To remove temptation, to really close and lock that door behind me and move forward. I will always have feelings for her, I will always miss her and wonder "what if," but... well, I don't really get the luxury of a do-over with her.
She leaned into the car and kissed me on the cheek, in a gesture I spent the entire drive home analyzing.
Showing posts with label Justin. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Justin. Show all posts
Friday, July 21, 2017
Sunday, July 03, 2011
Tori: Father's Days (part 3)
In case you missed it, tonight I'm double-posting the last couple parts of my "Father's Days" story, so scroll down!
The next day I went to the hospital. I didn't think getting in to see my dad would be easy, but it was surprisingly not a big deal. Now, it's not like they just let strangers in to see patients, but Willy had sent advance word that "a friend of his" would be by to drop off a card he'd written. The thing is, there wasn't a card... but there was a letter.
When I couldn't sleep the night before, I opened up my laptop, and started composing some thoughts. I'd transcribe the letter for you here, but it was obviously very personal, and frankly kinda rambling. But I guess after all this time I still wanted to get some stuff off my shoulders, clear the air with him. Even though I've gotten pretty good at writing about myself through this blog, when I started thinking back on my old life, it came out confused and clumsy. Eventually I ended up writing a short note, from Willy's perspective, about how no matter the differences between us, no matter how far away I am, I'm still a part of this family, and even though we had problems, I'll always love and appreciate everything he and mom did for me.
And that part's true, and it was very difficult to get out. I printed it at a copy shop and left space at the bottom to add the personal touch... my signature, "JHCliff--" so he'd know it was from me. I haven't signed anything that way in years, of course, but surprisingly my hand made the signature exactly how I remember it looking.
When I got to the room, I found my dad resting. I said I wouldn't be more than a minute, I guess figuring I'd read the letter out and be, even though he was asleep it was going to be a token gesture on my part. But when I got in there, I was just, so overwhelmed by the sight of my dad, the unstoppable tough guy in a hospital bed. It stopped me cold.
I set the letter on the side table and took a seat next to him.
"Guess you can't hear me, huh dad?" No response. "Maybe I shouldn't talk. It's not like you're in a coma or something. You need rest." Again, he didn't flinch. I crossed my legs and straightened out my skirt... I had dressed formally.
"I never thought I'd see you like this. I never thought I'd see you again at all, and I'm sure you never thought you'd see your son looking like this. I sure as hell hope you can't hear me, dad, because I haven't admitted who I am... who I was... to anybody in a long, long time. Christ, Dad, if you could get a good look at your boy now, you'd have another damned heart attack."
I put my hand on his and watched him breathe a moment.
"It was exhausting being John Henry Clifford. Trying to be the good son, but having no clue how to live up to your expectations. You never really made me feel like it was okay that I wasn't the same as Bret. That I was shy. That I wasn't athletic. And when he went off to war and I didn't... it was like there was something wrong with me for not joining up. God, it's no wonder Willy knocked him out. But none of that's your fault. I don't blame you. You just wanted what was best for me, and in the end... I think I've got it."
"I was put in a bad situation, dad. Something happened to me that was beyond my control, that I never asked for. I know it seems like I should be embarrassed, but I like to think you'd be proud of me, for handling it so well. Making the best of a bad situation. Maybe you'd be shocked to hear that somewhere along the way I went from putting up with this life, to preferring it. I like myself better this way, dad. I won't apologize for that. But I guess we'll never know how you'd feel, because even if I could tell you where I've been this year, you'd never believe me."
I dabbed my eyes, which were slowly tearing up. "Sorry I'm getting so emotional here, dad. PMS is rough and I've had a weird week."
I couldn't think of anything else to say, so I left the note by his table, and walked out of the room.
In the hallway, I ran into my mother. It's weird being looked at by your own mom like you're a stranger, but I nearly called out "Mom!" but managed at the last moment to change it into "Mu-issus Clifford!" She leveled her eyes at me trying to figure out how she was supposed to know me.
"I'm Tori. I'm a friend of your son's. I actually came to Thanksgiving once."
"Oh! Of course, dear. You were dropping something off for Johnny."
"Yes, yes... dropping something off for Johnny. Look, I'm sorry about what's happened here. Can I buy you a cup of coffee?"
"Oh, that's not necessary."
"Please, you've been through a lot this week. I won't let you say no."
My mom's a woman that understands a thing or two about hospitality. We went down to the cafeteria and I bought her a tea and we chatted only as long as the walk back up to my dad's room.
"Is he going to be okay?" I asked eagerly.
"He'll live, they say, but if the bastard doesn't change his diet he won't have much time. I guess that's where I come in. I love him, you know, but he can be stubborn."
"Hah! Tell me about it!" I said, as if I was supposed to know the man.
"He'll put up a fight, but if he wants to live, he'll change. It's just a matter of making him want to change."
"I'm sure he'll find his way," I told her.
She nodded along, then asked, "So how exactly do you know my son?"
"That... is a really long, complicated story." Fortunately by this point, we had reached the room, so I excused myself.
Alex and I got some lunch and set out for the road home. Once we were in the car, I decided the time was right to clear some stuff up with him.
"Can I ask you something?" I asked timidly while I was driving. "What's your deal, man?"
He glanced at me. "My deal?"
"Listen, I don't wanna pry... I mean, I am, but only because I really just don't know. You know my friend Danny, right?"
"Sure... the gay guy."
"Yes. He mentioned, after I introduced you, he'd met you before."
"Really..."
"And he implied there was some kind of history between the two of you. But he's never been specific as to what."
Alex rolled his eyes some and finally relented. "It's not what you're thinking."
"I don't know what I'm thinking," I said.
"Well whatever happened, it wasn't anything serious. It was a very G-rated... thing."
"But what was it?"
"It was two guys meeting. One gay, one... not sure."
That gave me pause. I don't think I've ever met a man who would admit to something like that.
I stayed quiet. He continued. "It was at a time when I had reason to doubt... who I was. Who I am. What I want. I'm only telling you this because I feel like you'd understand."
"Why would I understand?"
"I don't know, I just... get this sense about you. Your story about how you couldn't be a baseball player. Going from dating popular guys in high school to dating someone like Buddy... that's not the same, but I think you get a sense of how someone changes over time."
"Uh yeah, definitely," I said, as if he should know my real past.
"So I'm telling you this in confidence." He went into a bit more detail about a period of his life, a couple years earlier, when he had just arrived in Philly and needed some company, and wound up, of all things, hanging with a mostly-gay crowd. I won't share the details, and I guess as far as Danny's recounting of the situation, there was a misunderstanding because of how unseemly he made it out to be. And for all I know, Alex is still covering for something.
But this left me with one question. Why didn't he like Raine when I set them up?
He said with a knowing smirk, "She wasn't into me and I wasn't into her. Two people don't have to want to fuck just because they're opposite sex and single, you know." He said it kiddingly, but it's something I've had weird time realizing since I realized I like guys... I haven't been "just friends" with one (straight and unattached anyway) since when Buddy and I were "just friends" he was pretty upfront about wanting to date me. Alex's words here seemed to indicate that's how he sees me, though.
Since "activating" this part of my life, I've jumped from Leo to Buddy, and maybe if I were someone else it would be healthy to be on my own for a while. But I've had plenty of time in my life to be alone.
It would probably be healthy just to have a male friend and not feel obligated to want to be with him, but at the same time, it hurts. There's nothing "keeping us apart" like attachments or orientations or distance... just a lack of interest on his part. Feels pretty familiar. Like rejection.
We got back to Philly and while I felt like I had managed to get some closure with my old life, my new one is still a wide open mess.
Thanks for listening. While I was typing up this long-ass story, I set up a Twitter account for some of us at the inn (we'll see if anyone else is interested in sharing) just for little thoughts between posts, updates... if any of you are on there, if you wanna follow us, it might be nice to interact that way because we don't always get around to replying to blog messages. For those of you still reading, it means a lot to us! (As specially since, as Greg seems to be finding, this story never seems to end!!)
The next day I went to the hospital. I didn't think getting in to see my dad would be easy, but it was surprisingly not a big deal. Now, it's not like they just let strangers in to see patients, but Willy had sent advance word that "a friend of his" would be by to drop off a card he'd written. The thing is, there wasn't a card... but there was a letter.
When I couldn't sleep the night before, I opened up my laptop, and started composing some thoughts. I'd transcribe the letter for you here, but it was obviously very personal, and frankly kinda rambling. But I guess after all this time I still wanted to get some stuff off my shoulders, clear the air with him. Even though I've gotten pretty good at writing about myself through this blog, when I started thinking back on my old life, it came out confused and clumsy. Eventually I ended up writing a short note, from Willy's perspective, about how no matter the differences between us, no matter how far away I am, I'm still a part of this family, and even though we had problems, I'll always love and appreciate everything he and mom did for me.
And that part's true, and it was very difficult to get out. I printed it at a copy shop and left space at the bottom to add the personal touch... my signature, "JHCliff--" so he'd know it was from me. I haven't signed anything that way in years, of course, but surprisingly my hand made the signature exactly how I remember it looking.
When I got to the room, I found my dad resting. I said I wouldn't be more than a minute, I guess figuring I'd read the letter out and be, even though he was asleep it was going to be a token gesture on my part. But when I got in there, I was just, so overwhelmed by the sight of my dad, the unstoppable tough guy in a hospital bed. It stopped me cold.
I set the letter on the side table and took a seat next to him.
"Guess you can't hear me, huh dad?" No response. "Maybe I shouldn't talk. It's not like you're in a coma or something. You need rest." Again, he didn't flinch. I crossed my legs and straightened out my skirt... I had dressed formally.
"I never thought I'd see you like this. I never thought I'd see you again at all, and I'm sure you never thought you'd see your son looking like this. I sure as hell hope you can't hear me, dad, because I haven't admitted who I am... who I was... to anybody in a long, long time. Christ, Dad, if you could get a good look at your boy now, you'd have another damned heart attack."
I put my hand on his and watched him breathe a moment.
"It was exhausting being John Henry Clifford. Trying to be the good son, but having no clue how to live up to your expectations. You never really made me feel like it was okay that I wasn't the same as Bret. That I was shy. That I wasn't athletic. And when he went off to war and I didn't... it was like there was something wrong with me for not joining up. God, it's no wonder Willy knocked him out. But none of that's your fault. I don't blame you. You just wanted what was best for me, and in the end... I think I've got it."
"I was put in a bad situation, dad. Something happened to me that was beyond my control, that I never asked for. I know it seems like I should be embarrassed, but I like to think you'd be proud of me, for handling it so well. Making the best of a bad situation. Maybe you'd be shocked to hear that somewhere along the way I went from putting up with this life, to preferring it. I like myself better this way, dad. I won't apologize for that. But I guess we'll never know how you'd feel, because even if I could tell you where I've been this year, you'd never believe me."
I dabbed my eyes, which were slowly tearing up. "Sorry I'm getting so emotional here, dad. PMS is rough and I've had a weird week."
I couldn't think of anything else to say, so I left the note by his table, and walked out of the room.
In the hallway, I ran into my mother. It's weird being looked at by your own mom like you're a stranger, but I nearly called out "Mom!" but managed at the last moment to change it into "Mu-issus Clifford!" She leveled her eyes at me trying to figure out how she was supposed to know me.
"I'm Tori. I'm a friend of your son's. I actually came to Thanksgiving once."
"Oh! Of course, dear. You were dropping something off for Johnny."
"Yes, yes... dropping something off for Johnny. Look, I'm sorry about what's happened here. Can I buy you a cup of coffee?"
"Oh, that's not necessary."
"Please, you've been through a lot this week. I won't let you say no."
My mom's a woman that understands a thing or two about hospitality. We went down to the cafeteria and I bought her a tea and we chatted only as long as the walk back up to my dad's room.
"Is he going to be okay?" I asked eagerly.
"He'll live, they say, but if the bastard doesn't change his diet he won't have much time. I guess that's where I come in. I love him, you know, but he can be stubborn."
"Hah! Tell me about it!" I said, as if I was supposed to know the man.
"He'll put up a fight, but if he wants to live, he'll change. It's just a matter of making him want to change."
"I'm sure he'll find his way," I told her.
She nodded along, then asked, "So how exactly do you know my son?"
"That... is a really long, complicated story." Fortunately by this point, we had reached the room, so I excused myself.
Alex and I got some lunch and set out for the road home. Once we were in the car, I decided the time was right to clear some stuff up with him.
"Can I ask you something?" I asked timidly while I was driving. "What's your deal, man?"
He glanced at me. "My deal?"
"Listen, I don't wanna pry... I mean, I am, but only because I really just don't know. You know my friend Danny, right?"
"Sure... the gay guy."
"Yes. He mentioned, after I introduced you, he'd met you before."
"Really..."
"And he implied there was some kind of history between the two of you. But he's never been specific as to what."
Alex rolled his eyes some and finally relented. "It's not what you're thinking."
"I don't know what I'm thinking," I said.
"Well whatever happened, it wasn't anything serious. It was a very G-rated... thing."
"But what was it?"
"It was two guys meeting. One gay, one... not sure."
That gave me pause. I don't think I've ever met a man who would admit to something like that.
I stayed quiet. He continued. "It was at a time when I had reason to doubt... who I was. Who I am. What I want. I'm only telling you this because I feel like you'd understand."
"Why would I understand?"
"I don't know, I just... get this sense about you. Your story about how you couldn't be a baseball player. Going from dating popular guys in high school to dating someone like Buddy... that's not the same, but I think you get a sense of how someone changes over time."
"Uh yeah, definitely," I said, as if he should know my real past.
"So I'm telling you this in confidence." He went into a bit more detail about a period of his life, a couple years earlier, when he had just arrived in Philly and needed some company, and wound up, of all things, hanging with a mostly-gay crowd. I won't share the details, and I guess as far as Danny's recounting of the situation, there was a misunderstanding because of how unseemly he made it out to be. And for all I know, Alex is still covering for something.
But this left me with one question. Why didn't he like Raine when I set them up?
He said with a knowing smirk, "She wasn't into me and I wasn't into her. Two people don't have to want to fuck just because they're opposite sex and single, you know." He said it kiddingly, but it's something I've had weird time realizing since I realized I like guys... I haven't been "just friends" with one (straight and unattached anyway) since when Buddy and I were "just friends" he was pretty upfront about wanting to date me. Alex's words here seemed to indicate that's how he sees me, though.
Since "activating" this part of my life, I've jumped from Leo to Buddy, and maybe if I were someone else it would be healthy to be on my own for a while. But I've had plenty of time in my life to be alone.
It would probably be healthy just to have a male friend and not feel obligated to want to be with him, but at the same time, it hurts. There's nothing "keeping us apart" like attachments or orientations or distance... just a lack of interest on his part. Feels pretty familiar. Like rejection.
We got back to Philly and while I felt like I had managed to get some closure with my old life, my new one is still a wide open mess.
Thanks for listening. While I was typing up this long-ass story, I set up a Twitter account for some of us at the inn (we'll see if anyone else is interested in sharing) just for little thoughts between posts, updates... if any of you are on there, if you wanna follow us, it might be nice to interact that way because we don't always get around to replying to blog messages. For those of you still reading, it means a lot to us! (As specially since, as Greg seems to be finding, this story never seems to end!!)
Sunday, November 07, 2010
Tori C: What it's like
There's been some request for me to describe the sensation of having sex with Leo. I've put it off because I wasn't sure I was ready to get graphic about it. Since this whole thing has started, I've struggled to put it into words, and using phrases like "We did it," has helped me kind of get around that, but I think there comes a time when you need to stop dancing around it and get into it.
So I'm giving myself license to get explicit here... and if that makes you uncomfortable, just scroll down to where it says I'm done.
Before I get to Leo specifically, I want to go back to the first time I ever thought of a man as being attractive. I wasn't really sure what, if anything, it meant at the time, but now that I've had a year to think about it, I can sort of admit that it started in Buffalo when I went to visit my old body.
I was waiting for Willie at the bar when I ran into Justin, my best friend for years. Seeing him without him knowing it was me... it was weird. He was dating Randi at the time, but he was putting this vibe out there like he was still on the lookout. A little later I found out he knew ahead of time that I was Tori, that I was "with" Cliff, but the energy he was putting out got to me. He exuded confidence.
I spent much of the evening avoiding eye contact with Willie. My eyes darted back and forth between Justin and Randi. His arm around her, her head on his shoulders... she was wearing a light top and her nipples were just poking through ever so much. He stroked her hair. Suddenly I was noticing how handsome he was... the stubble he'd let grow, his strong jawline, his eyes... I tried to pack away these thoughts and focus on Randi, tried to remember what made her so good looking.
Make no mistake, she's attractive, but when I tried to let me mind play with that, put myself in HIS shoes, with my fingers running through her hair, it got really... complicated. It put me off. But it didn't TURN me off... I wanted to be both of them and I wanted to be with both of them.
Later on that trip, Willie and I almost... well, we messed around a bit. I had felt the need to test myself because of all this new information my brain was processing. The gates were already opening when I really started to look at him in my body. And I didn't mind what I saw.
Maybe he wears my face better than I did, but I didn't see anything wrong with the way he looked. In fact, between the rather masculine Justin and the cute, girlish Randi, "Cliff," clean shaved, a little baby-faced, was a nice middle option. I began to wonder why I had ever had problems with girls. A little later I decided it must've just been because I was myself... which set me down a bit of depression. But let's flash forward.
It's late in the summer. I can pretty much admit to being into guys, and whatever I think of girls I'm not as dedicated as I once was. I mean, I sure as hell wouldn't mind getting a look at Sara naked, but I wouldn't want to date her. And that's when Leo and I started hooking up. He was in the right place at the right time.
When it started to get good, here's what it's like:
To start, I'm sitting on his bed. I'm fully clothed, he's fully clothed. He stands in front of me, unbuttoning his shirt. I run my fingers over her stomach and chest. He's thin, with just a few patches of hair. I hold his belt-loops. He leans in and kisses me. I feel my back straighten. A tingle goes through my body. I love the thought of us breathing heavily into each other, just panting and moaning.
I take off my top. My brastraps fall over my shoulders. He unclasps it with a quick motion. When I bare myself, he takes a moment to look at them. I don't blame him, I do too. Then he looks me dead in the eyes, and all I want is for him to touch me. He lays me back on the bed. The longer we go at it, the more creative he gets. First he has his hand on my breast, gently massaging as he kisses me. Then he moves his fingers away and starts to stroke the side of my breast, running his tongue down my chest and circling my breast.
That's when I get wet. I can feel my knees shivering. I feel like I'm so close to something, I can't stand being teased.
I stave off my own feeling by turning my attention to him. I unzip his pants and reach down. Not surprisingly, he's hard. I don't really do anything with his dick once I have it in hand... I guess I've got a mental block against that, but it doesn't stop me from handling it just a little. Sometimes I think to myself, "How bad would it be just to try putting my mouth on it?" but I never cross that threshhold, even though I'm willing to go further.
Soon he has me on my back, and I'm letting myself moan uncontrollably for him. I remember when I was a guy, I'd jack off quietly... there always seemed to be something so unappealing about letting out a pleasure moan as a guy, something weak... but since I've taken on the female persona, I don't care anymore. I like what he's doing and I know to let him know.
He pulls my panties down and moves his mouth to the base of my crotch. I don't let him stay there too long, because as good as it can be, it just makes me want to go faster. Somewhere in all this we find the time to make sure he's got protection on -- I've been taking the pill since the summer, but it doesn't hurt to double these things, and when I give the signal, he pulls himself over me and I sprad my legs, trembling, moist, letting him in.
For a few minutes, we move in unison, slowly. I'm embarrassed, so I close my eyes or turn away, but it's so absorbing that I can't stop myself from screaming out, "ungh, ungh." I move with him and we go faster... the feeling of having another person inside me is so intense, because the parts in there are so sensitive, and I've never used an item (eg, a dildo) to reach, only getting what my fingers could find. With every thrust, a radiation of pleasure that leaves me weak flushes through me until finally I feel myself come.
I let him keep going, though, because there's nothing to stop him. I'm not shriveling away or going limp, I'm just... good. And it's not long before he is too. He rolls off me and we lie on top of the sheets for a moment, his arm wrapped around me. I can't stand up, my legs are trembling, so we just lie there and drift off, leaving the clean-up for later.
That's how it was. At the best of times. Here's what it's more often like:
I go over to his place. He hasn't cleaned up, there's usually dishes here and there, clothes on the floor. He's on the couch playing XBox. In a past life I might've been more interested in sitting on the couch with him and playing Call of Duty, but we both know why I'm there.
He wants to finish his game so I go to the bedroom, undressing as I go. I leave my clothes in a heap by the bed. Sometimes I wait a while, naked, in his bed, before he gets around to me. I don't like getting too much time to think about what I'm about to do. I prefer to get caught up in the moment. I'm far from turned on, but I'm still "willing," if that makes any sense. I get myself warmed up.
He comes in and disrobes. I remind him to put a rubber on as he disrobes, slipping out of his pants, lifting his shirt over the bed and pulling his socks off.
He's plenty hard -- part of me wonders if it's me or the video game -- so I just lie back and let him go to it. In this scenario, there's not a lot of kissing and touching, just a willing submission to his need. I try to get us into some kind of rhythm, but he just goes at his own pace, jutting up into me sharply, awkwardly humping. A few unsatisfactory minutes later, he's done. I wonder why I even bothered coming by. Sometimes I try to get him on the bottom so I can make it last a bit longer and do some work of my own, but he likes the dominant position and I'm more comfortable this way anyway.
He rolls off me. Sometimes I try to complete the mission myself, sometimes I just lie there.
Sometimes he falls asleep. Sometimes he gets up, gets dressed again and goes back to his Xbox.
I don't stay the night. He insists we don't sleep together because we're not a couple and he doesn't want to complicate things. We don't have one of those arrangements where I leave a toothbrush and a pack of tampons at his place. He's never even been to my place. I'm not sure I'd want him to.
So after maybe a half hour of activity and aftermath, I roll out of his bed. I reach down onto the floor and pick up my panties, unbunch them and pull them on. I re-clasp my bra and dress myself again.
I gather my things, grab my purse, say a polite "thank you," and leave, waiting for one of us to be in the mood to text again. This has gone on for the better part of 2 months. I slink off into the night, and go home to my own bed, alone.
When I put it that way, it's a wonder I haven't quit yet, but the truth is somewhere between these two extremes. It can be very good, but it can be very impersonal. It can be convenient, but it can also be un-fulfilling. In my more clear-headed moments, I feel it would be smartest to end this thing with Leo and take a chance with Buddy. But just as often, I'm thankful for something that, if not perfect, is easy to manage and that oftentimes does feel good.
I feel guilty sometimes for being too comfortable with what I've got. I also sometimes feel guilty for not liking it as much as I should. I don't know. I'm really mixed up.
Maybe it can't last much longer, but for now, that's what it's like.
So I'm giving myself license to get explicit here... and if that makes you uncomfortable, just scroll down to where it says I'm done.
Before I get to Leo specifically, I want to go back to the first time I ever thought of a man as being attractive. I wasn't really sure what, if anything, it meant at the time, but now that I've had a year to think about it, I can sort of admit that it started in Buffalo when I went to visit my old body.
I was waiting for Willie at the bar when I ran into Justin, my best friend for years. Seeing him without him knowing it was me... it was weird. He was dating Randi at the time, but he was putting this vibe out there like he was still on the lookout. A little later I found out he knew ahead of time that I was Tori, that I was "with" Cliff, but the energy he was putting out got to me. He exuded confidence.
I spent much of the evening avoiding eye contact with Willie. My eyes darted back and forth between Justin and Randi. His arm around her, her head on his shoulders... she was wearing a light top and her nipples were just poking through ever so much. He stroked her hair. Suddenly I was noticing how handsome he was... the stubble he'd let grow, his strong jawline, his eyes... I tried to pack away these thoughts and focus on Randi, tried to remember what made her so good looking.
Make no mistake, she's attractive, but when I tried to let me mind play with that, put myself in HIS shoes, with my fingers running through her hair, it got really... complicated. It put me off. But it didn't TURN me off... I wanted to be both of them and I wanted to be with both of them.
Later on that trip, Willie and I almost... well, we messed around a bit. I had felt the need to test myself because of all this new information my brain was processing. The gates were already opening when I really started to look at him in my body. And I didn't mind what I saw.
Maybe he wears my face better than I did, but I didn't see anything wrong with the way he looked. In fact, between the rather masculine Justin and the cute, girlish Randi, "Cliff," clean shaved, a little baby-faced, was a nice middle option. I began to wonder why I had ever had problems with girls. A little later I decided it must've just been because I was myself... which set me down a bit of depression. But let's flash forward.
It's late in the summer. I can pretty much admit to being into guys, and whatever I think of girls I'm not as dedicated as I once was. I mean, I sure as hell wouldn't mind getting a look at Sara naked, but I wouldn't want to date her. And that's when Leo and I started hooking up. He was in the right place at the right time.
When it started to get good, here's what it's like:
To start, I'm sitting on his bed. I'm fully clothed, he's fully clothed. He stands in front of me, unbuttoning his shirt. I run my fingers over her stomach and chest. He's thin, with just a few patches of hair. I hold his belt-loops. He leans in and kisses me. I feel my back straighten. A tingle goes through my body. I love the thought of us breathing heavily into each other, just panting and moaning.
I take off my top. My brastraps fall over my shoulders. He unclasps it with a quick motion. When I bare myself, he takes a moment to look at them. I don't blame him, I do too. Then he looks me dead in the eyes, and all I want is for him to touch me. He lays me back on the bed. The longer we go at it, the more creative he gets. First he has his hand on my breast, gently massaging as he kisses me. Then he moves his fingers away and starts to stroke the side of my breast, running his tongue down my chest and circling my breast.
That's when I get wet. I can feel my knees shivering. I feel like I'm so close to something, I can't stand being teased.
I stave off my own feeling by turning my attention to him. I unzip his pants and reach down. Not surprisingly, he's hard. I don't really do anything with his dick once I have it in hand... I guess I've got a mental block against that, but it doesn't stop me from handling it just a little. Sometimes I think to myself, "How bad would it be just to try putting my mouth on it?" but I never cross that threshhold, even though I'm willing to go further.
Soon he has me on my back, and I'm letting myself moan uncontrollably for him. I remember when I was a guy, I'd jack off quietly... there always seemed to be something so unappealing about letting out a pleasure moan as a guy, something weak... but since I've taken on the female persona, I don't care anymore. I like what he's doing and I know to let him know.
He pulls my panties down and moves his mouth to the base of my crotch. I don't let him stay there too long, because as good as it can be, it just makes me want to go faster. Somewhere in all this we find the time to make sure he's got protection on -- I've been taking the pill since the summer, but it doesn't hurt to double these things, and when I give the signal, he pulls himself over me and I sprad my legs, trembling, moist, letting him in.
For a few minutes, we move in unison, slowly. I'm embarrassed, so I close my eyes or turn away, but it's so absorbing that I can't stop myself from screaming out, "ungh, ungh." I move with him and we go faster... the feeling of having another person inside me is so intense, because the parts in there are so sensitive, and I've never used an item (eg, a dildo) to reach, only getting what my fingers could find. With every thrust, a radiation of pleasure that leaves me weak flushes through me until finally I feel myself come.
I let him keep going, though, because there's nothing to stop him. I'm not shriveling away or going limp, I'm just... good. And it's not long before he is too. He rolls off me and we lie on top of the sheets for a moment, his arm wrapped around me. I can't stand up, my legs are trembling, so we just lie there and drift off, leaving the clean-up for later.
That's how it was. At the best of times. Here's what it's more often like:
I go over to his place. He hasn't cleaned up, there's usually dishes here and there, clothes on the floor. He's on the couch playing XBox. In a past life I might've been more interested in sitting on the couch with him and playing Call of Duty, but we both know why I'm there.
He wants to finish his game so I go to the bedroom, undressing as I go. I leave my clothes in a heap by the bed. Sometimes I wait a while, naked, in his bed, before he gets around to me. I don't like getting too much time to think about what I'm about to do. I prefer to get caught up in the moment. I'm far from turned on, but I'm still "willing," if that makes any sense. I get myself warmed up.
He comes in and disrobes. I remind him to put a rubber on as he disrobes, slipping out of his pants, lifting his shirt over the bed and pulling his socks off.
He's plenty hard -- part of me wonders if it's me or the video game -- so I just lie back and let him go to it. In this scenario, there's not a lot of kissing and touching, just a willing submission to his need. I try to get us into some kind of rhythm, but he just goes at his own pace, jutting up into me sharply, awkwardly humping. A few unsatisfactory minutes later, he's done. I wonder why I even bothered coming by. Sometimes I try to get him on the bottom so I can make it last a bit longer and do some work of my own, but he likes the dominant position and I'm more comfortable this way anyway.
He rolls off me. Sometimes I try to complete the mission myself, sometimes I just lie there.
Sometimes he falls asleep. Sometimes he gets up, gets dressed again and goes back to his Xbox.
I don't stay the night. He insists we don't sleep together because we're not a couple and he doesn't want to complicate things. We don't have one of those arrangements where I leave a toothbrush and a pack of tampons at his place. He's never even been to my place. I'm not sure I'd want him to.
So after maybe a half hour of activity and aftermath, I roll out of his bed. I reach down onto the floor and pick up my panties, unbunch them and pull them on. I re-clasp my bra and dress myself again.
I gather my things, grab my purse, say a polite "thank you," and leave, waiting for one of us to be in the mood to text again. This has gone on for the better part of 2 months. I slink off into the night, and go home to my own bed, alone.
When I put it that way, it's a wonder I haven't quit yet, but the truth is somewhere between these two extremes. It can be very good, but it can be very impersonal. It can be convenient, but it can also be un-fulfilling. In my more clear-headed moments, I feel it would be smartest to end this thing with Leo and take a chance with Buddy. But just as often, I'm thankful for something that, if not perfect, is easy to manage and that oftentimes does feel good.
I feel guilty sometimes for being too comfortable with what I've got. I also sometimes feel guilty for not liking it as much as I should. I don't know. I'm really mixed up.
Maybe it can't last much longer, but for now, that's what it's like.
Friday, December 04, 2009
Cliff/Tori: Thanksgiving Saga Part 3
I'm going to try to wrap this up quickly, because I should be getting ready for work and this story has dragged out too long anyway.
That night, I didn't really sleep that well, as you can imagine. A combination of identity confusion and potential horniness will do that. I just lay there in the dark for a while, untying the braid in my hair. Finally, when I realized I wasn't going back to sleep, I picked up one of the journals and started reading.
I got to the point where, in the eighth grade, Tori admits to her journal she has a crush on a boy she knows. She had mentioned him quite a bit earlier and it seemed like, whether she admitted it or not, there was some kind of unspoken thing. for pages and pages it goes on about what happens when they spend time together and speculation about whether or not he likes her back. It was so sweet and so innocent and made me long for those days when it was all so simple. I was tired before I got to the end of the story (if there is an end) and managed to fall asleep at 3.
However, I had to get up early the next morning because the four of us (me, Willy, Justin and Randi) were going shopping on Black Friday, at the Walden Galleria, which is of course the biggest mall around here. We decided to split up into guys and girls and meet up for lunch at the food court. Despite my desire to go with the guys, there was a very important matter I wanted to discuss with Randi.
As you can imagine it was ridiculously crowded, meaning every place we went to took way longer to deal with than usual.
She took me around to all the women's clothing places she liked. As I guy I'd be super-bored but at least as Tori I can occupy myself by trying things on if they interest me. After all, no matter what body you're in, you need clothes, and certain clothes are made for certain people. It's quite a bit like my trip with the real Tori, but Randi of course didn't know who she was really with. So I just went along with it and tried to have fun. I ended up buying only a few items for myself, and a few gifts for Mae and "mom." I also bought some trinkets for my real mom as a "thanks" for having me over.
Randi was a lot of fun to be around. I'd known her for a few months before I changed, but only as part of a couple with Justin. Obviously there wasn't much excuse for the two of us to hang out one on one. I'm a little embarrassed to admit but even in my first post here I talked about how I'd kinda had a crush on her. I mean she's beautiful, smart and funny. And she really seems to love Justin. I asked her about their relationship, things I already know ("How long have you been together, how did you meet?") but had never really heard her side of. After a while, I was able to put aside my male feelings for her, and just be her friend. It made it a lot easier to talk to her than I ever did as Cliff.
Apropos of nothing and with quite a bit of embarrassment, I asked "Hey, Randi, listen, I wanna ask you... did you ever have a lesbian experience?" Obviously she was put off by the question, and it was probably way, way too personal for someone I'd "just met" (hell, even if I was myself,) but it was my secret scheme to talk a little bit about my situation. I clarified my fictionalized version, "See, my little sister keeps bringing this girl over, and my mom thinks they might be, I don't know, together. And I never did anything like that, but I'm trying to see if it's maybe normal just to... try." Yeah, now that I write it out, it was awkward, but she handled it like a champ. I should also add that Randi is studying to be a social worker or a counselor or something, so she's maybe a little more comfortable about this sort of thing.
I added, "I know, I know, we're practically strangers, but that's kind of why I wanted to ask you. We're all girls here, aren't we?"
She smiled and said in a hushed voice, "No, yeah, it's okay. It's actually normal to have doubts about yourself. When I was a little younger, in college, I had this friend, Michelle. And neither of us had boyfriends so we spent a lot of saturday nights together in my dorm watching movies and drinking, and... I don't know why I'm telling you this, but it was pretty much a relationship."
"What, really? Did you guys ever, like, kiss and stuff?"
"Exactly. It was like a secret little affair, but we had to be alone to deal with it. And then she got a boyfriend, and I got a boyfriend, and we never talked about it again, even as our relationships came and went. For us, it was only a passing phase, but I think it's definitely healthy to explore that side of yourself."
I thought about what she was saying as it had to do with my life. It made a lot of sense.
Of course, the funny thing is, I've actually met Michelle, and when I get my body back, I probably will again. I'll have to keep an eye out for any strange behavior! Haha.
We were early for lunch so we got seats and texted the guys where to find us. While we were waiting, I was struck by an image from my past -- a girl I knew in high school and was hugely attracted to (even though she was popular and kinda dumb and bitchy, and it was never going to happen, I spent a lot of time... thinking about her.)
I was staring at her, and before long, I realized how far behind me those feelings were. I was drawn to Randi maybe a little bit because I know her and she's a nice person and yeah, she's still beautiful. But this girl, whose name I even had trouble remembering, did nothing for me.
Around that time, I realized, maybe it really isn't about liking "boys or girls," it's about liking people. I still don't know what any of it means but I feel like I made a really big step.
After regrouping and eating, we made a few more stops (I picked up some gadgetry at Best Buy for my dad, the same as I got a little something for my mom.) After we dropped Justin and Randi off, Willy and I finally talked... a little.
"Listen," he said, "I'm sorry about last night, really, I never--"
"It's okay. Really. You didn't do anything wrong."
"It's just, well... when I first saw you, Wednesday night, I didn't expect you to look so good, I guess. I think I may have gone into flirt mode, and that was unfair of me. It's just, you feel like a friend, but you're a beautiful girl if you don't mind me saying, and I've never had such a close bond with someone so quick. I guess I should be looking at you like you're just a fella, right?"
I laughed, "No, you don't have to. I haven't acted like one in a while. I mean, it's not like you hypnotized me or anything." He laughed, and I did a little too, "Look, we get along well, and I got carried away last night. You've been very good about this, Willy. And if it's possible I'd like to come back and see you, and see my friends and family again... but, I've got to work, and save money for my big trip to Maine next summer. I mean, I may be okay with this, but I'm still getting that body back one way or the other, got me?"
He smiled "Yeah, I gotcha."
We had dinner, and he peppered me with a few obvious questions about womanhood, then we watched a movie. Around 11, he drove me to the bus depot, and we hugged goodbye.
The next morning, I was back in Philly.... back in "my own bed."
I hope it makes sense to you, how this all ties into everything. I haven't got really concrete answers, and I probably won't as long as I'm Tori, but my eyes are a little more open now as to what I am to other people, and what other people are to me. So I understand a bit more about who I am now... now to read those diaries some more....
That night, I didn't really sleep that well, as you can imagine. A combination of identity confusion and potential horniness will do that. I just lay there in the dark for a while, untying the braid in my hair. Finally, when I realized I wasn't going back to sleep, I picked up one of the journals and started reading.
I got to the point where, in the eighth grade, Tori admits to her journal she has a crush on a boy she knows. She had mentioned him quite a bit earlier and it seemed like, whether she admitted it or not, there was some kind of unspoken thing. for pages and pages it goes on about what happens when they spend time together and speculation about whether or not he likes her back. It was so sweet and so innocent and made me long for those days when it was all so simple. I was tired before I got to the end of the story (if there is an end) and managed to fall asleep at 3.
However, I had to get up early the next morning because the four of us (me, Willy, Justin and Randi) were going shopping on Black Friday, at the Walden Galleria, which is of course the biggest mall around here. We decided to split up into guys and girls and meet up for lunch at the food court. Despite my desire to go with the guys, there was a very important matter I wanted to discuss with Randi.
As you can imagine it was ridiculously crowded, meaning every place we went to took way longer to deal with than usual.
She took me around to all the women's clothing places she liked. As I guy I'd be super-bored but at least as Tori I can occupy myself by trying things on if they interest me. After all, no matter what body you're in, you need clothes, and certain clothes are made for certain people. It's quite a bit like my trip with the real Tori, but Randi of course didn't know who she was really with. So I just went along with it and tried to have fun. I ended up buying only a few items for myself, and a few gifts for Mae and "mom." I also bought some trinkets for my real mom as a "thanks" for having me over.
Randi was a lot of fun to be around. I'd known her for a few months before I changed, but only as part of a couple with Justin. Obviously there wasn't much excuse for the two of us to hang out one on one. I'm a little embarrassed to admit but even in my first post here I talked about how I'd kinda had a crush on her. I mean she's beautiful, smart and funny. And she really seems to love Justin. I asked her about their relationship, things I already know ("How long have you been together, how did you meet?") but had never really heard her side of. After a while, I was able to put aside my male feelings for her, and just be her friend. It made it a lot easier to talk to her than I ever did as Cliff.
Apropos of nothing and with quite a bit of embarrassment, I asked "Hey, Randi, listen, I wanna ask you... did you ever have a lesbian experience?" Obviously she was put off by the question, and it was probably way, way too personal for someone I'd "just met" (hell, even if I was myself,) but it was my secret scheme to talk a little bit about my situation. I clarified my fictionalized version, "See, my little sister keeps bringing this girl over, and my mom thinks they might be, I don't know, together. And I never did anything like that, but I'm trying to see if it's maybe normal just to... try." Yeah, now that I write it out, it was awkward, but she handled it like a champ. I should also add that Randi is studying to be a social worker or a counselor or something, so she's maybe a little more comfortable about this sort of thing.
I added, "I know, I know, we're practically strangers, but that's kind of why I wanted to ask you. We're all girls here, aren't we?"
She smiled and said in a hushed voice, "No, yeah, it's okay. It's actually normal to have doubts about yourself. When I was a little younger, in college, I had this friend, Michelle. And neither of us had boyfriends so we spent a lot of saturday nights together in my dorm watching movies and drinking, and... I don't know why I'm telling you this, but it was pretty much a relationship."
"What, really? Did you guys ever, like, kiss and stuff?"
"Exactly. It was like a secret little affair, but we had to be alone to deal with it. And then she got a boyfriend, and I got a boyfriend, and we never talked about it again, even as our relationships came and went. For us, it was only a passing phase, but I think it's definitely healthy to explore that side of yourself."
I thought about what she was saying as it had to do with my life. It made a lot of sense.
Of course, the funny thing is, I've actually met Michelle, and when I get my body back, I probably will again. I'll have to keep an eye out for any strange behavior! Haha.
We were early for lunch so we got seats and texted the guys where to find us. While we were waiting, I was struck by an image from my past -- a girl I knew in high school and was hugely attracted to (even though she was popular and kinda dumb and bitchy, and it was never going to happen, I spent a lot of time... thinking about her.)
I was staring at her, and before long, I realized how far behind me those feelings were. I was drawn to Randi maybe a little bit because I know her and she's a nice person and yeah, she's still beautiful. But this girl, whose name I even had trouble remembering, did nothing for me.
Around that time, I realized, maybe it really isn't about liking "boys or girls," it's about liking people. I still don't know what any of it means but I feel like I made a really big step.
After regrouping and eating, we made a few more stops (I picked up some gadgetry at Best Buy for my dad, the same as I got a little something for my mom.) After we dropped Justin and Randi off, Willy and I finally talked... a little.
"Listen," he said, "I'm sorry about last night, really, I never--"
"It's okay. Really. You didn't do anything wrong."
"It's just, well... when I first saw you, Wednesday night, I didn't expect you to look so good, I guess. I think I may have gone into flirt mode, and that was unfair of me. It's just, you feel like a friend, but you're a beautiful girl if you don't mind me saying, and I've never had such a close bond with someone so quick. I guess I should be looking at you like you're just a fella, right?"
I laughed, "No, you don't have to. I haven't acted like one in a while. I mean, it's not like you hypnotized me or anything." He laughed, and I did a little too, "Look, we get along well, and I got carried away last night. You've been very good about this, Willy. And if it's possible I'd like to come back and see you, and see my friends and family again... but, I've got to work, and save money for my big trip to Maine next summer. I mean, I may be okay with this, but I'm still getting that body back one way or the other, got me?"
He smiled "Yeah, I gotcha."
We had dinner, and he peppered me with a few obvious questions about womanhood, then we watched a movie. Around 11, he drove me to the bus depot, and we hugged goodbye.
The next morning, I was back in Philly.... back in "my own bed."
I hope it makes sense to you, how this all ties into everything. I haven't got really concrete answers, and I probably won't as long as I'm Tori, but my eyes are a little more open now as to what I am to other people, and what other people are to me. So I understand a bit more about who I am now... now to read those diaries some more....
Tuesday, December 01, 2009
Cliff/Tori: Thanksgiving Saga Chapter 1
I don't think I have ever lied on this blog. It's a really bad idea, because if something happens that I can only explain by revealing the truth, it's pointless. I might as well not even write here if I am going to lie to you good people. I want to share my story, and I have, including some parts that I find myself embarrassed to discuss.
The upside is, you don't know me. To you, I am just a bunch of words on a screen, not a person. An idea about a man in a woman's body. I assume you believe me, or are willing to pretend you do, even though if you met me in person, you'd probably think "This woman is crazy." So I have nothing to hide. Not to mention, you have all proven remarkably understanding about what's going on in my life, willing to hear my stories about putting on panties and bras and wondering if I am still the man inside I feel I should be. Through interacting with fellow victims and kind anonymous readers I have felt safe and secure, and reassured that things will go okay. I don't know how people have lived through this Trading Post ordeal without a blog like this one. It has helped me grow comfortable in this skin well beyond what I ever dreamed, in such a short time, when I first got changed (if that sentence makes any sense, please don't judge me, Alia!)
So I want to thank you, by assuring you of my absolute honesty here and hoping it all comes out well. In the past, I'll admit, I have omitted details, but never anything I thought would be important later, and usually I'm right. Thanksgiving was a big story, and I intend not to omit anything I think is important... it may end up being multiple posts. But I want to get as much out of it out there as I can.
It was the kind of vacation you need a whole other vacation to recover from. It started with a long, long, long bus trip, (drive from Philly to Buffalo it's 6 hours, take a bus and it's double that) early Wednesday morning. I decided to bring a couple of Tori's old diaries for reading material. Foolishly, I decided to begin at the beginning, and it's a long story. The first entry is dated to her twelfth birthday, January 30th 1999. I never realized how much older I was than her, until I thought about the fact that at the time she was writing on that page, I was a 17-year-old boy in high school. Not long after that I was in college studying computer sciences, a field that you'll probably understand grows as time has gone on... it put me in an odd nostalgia trip.
As you can imagine, there's very little that a 12-year-old might have to say that has to do with my current life, but I felt it was necessary to browse anyhow. It's full of the necessary prepubescent complaints. Her parents control her life too much, school is boring, her little sister is a pain... little Leah Mae was only six years old in 1999. The girl who just last week was asking whether I thought it was the right time to give up her virginity. Ick.
The handwriting was also scratchy, the spelling bad, the grammar awful, not that I'm holding it against her I'm just saying it made it tough to read. I found myself thumbing over pages that I couldn't decipher, and where nothing seemed to jump out at me. Many of the entries were spare, short summaries of what she did that day or what she was mad about, or how she had fun with her friends.
One helpful commenter on my last post noted that the diaries could be considered an extension of the letter I got when I woke up as Tori, which to a degree is true. It definitely helps me understand her better. But at the same time, the letter was written by a 22-year-old girl, to put her life in a context a stranger might understand. The bare essentials. The diaries were clearly never meant for someone other than Tori to read, and they sometimes make puzzling references (names, places, events that are never explained, but later become slightly more clear.) This is all access, but a lot of it is locked out. As the book goes on, she writes longer entries with more references and explanations that relate to what I'd already read, so I assume that as the books go on I will gain more understanding as my frame of reference builds.
I guess if my original intention was to learn specifically about sex, 12 was definitely the wrong place to start, and as you can tell there's more at work here. Learning more about how Tori talks to herself has helped me learn about her as a person. There are times when she seems very analytical, like me, and she was still only 12. Other times, she's just gossipy.
I arrived in Buffalo after dinner. Willy had told me he'd be busy and unable to meet until a bit later than that, so I arranged to meet with him at a favourite bar of mine and Justin's.
The commenter also mentioned a parallel with something the original Ashlyn/Jean-Michel had done, which I'll admit was partly my inspiration. I was eager to see my old friends, my family. Willy and I had cooked up a none-too-original (and slightly unbelievable, if you know me) cover story, where I was a girl "Cliff" had met online, and we hit it off, and I had agreed to meet him in person. The unbelievable part is that I could never envision myself hitting it off with a girl like Tori... girls like Tori don't tend to be interested in guys like J.H. Clifford, and to be honest I had written girls like her off as not being my type, personality-wise (not that I wouldn't have stared impotently if she came into the bar.) But I figured, we have Inn-magic on our side, people will believe whatever we say.
I arrived at the bar and didn't see Willy there, so I took a seat at the bar. About halfway through my first beer, Justin arrived. I pretended not to notice him, because I didn't want to act like I knew him without Willy around so we could keep things straight. But he sat next to me anyway and ordered a draft. I kept my eyes forward and drank up.
"Excuse me," he said. I didn't move. "Miss?" I looked over. He had this odd smile on his face. "You're drinking awfully fast, I just thought I'd point that out."
"Oh, um," I blushed, oddly embarrassed, "I'm just nervous about something. and I like my drink."
"I can see that," he joked, "Why don't you let me get you another one?"
"No, it's okay," I was off-put, "I'm just waiting for someone."
He smiled at me and said "Well if they don't show up, feel free to have a drink with me. I'm Justin."
Reluctantly, I shook his hand "Tori." It suddenly because very obvious that Justin was coming onto me.
Full disclosure: I've had guys look at me with desire quite a bit since I've been female. There are days it makes me feel nice, there are days it makes me feel absolutely shitty, depending on how I feel about my body/my mind that day, and who's doing the looking. By and large I am able to ignore it, and when a guy seems like he is about to proposition me I've got the art of polite rejection down.
But this is my friend. He's supposed to know me. I know all about the Inn magic, but part of me wishes that the fact that we've known each other for over a decade meant he was able to see past my long hair and nice breasts and realize he was talking to his best friend. And hopefully that would stop him. This not to mention the fact that he's dating a really great girl, Randi.
Then just as things were about to get super-awkward for me, in came a shockingly familiar face -- my own. I never thought of myself as a particularly tall guy, but my real body is head and shoulders above the 5'5 Tori (I am on break from heels.) He bounded in with confidence. "There you are! Justin, I see you've met Tori."
He spoke with such zeal, so boldly, so friendly to Justin you'd think they really had been friends all their lives. When I spoke to Willy on the phone he had a rather British accent, but I could tell he was putting on an "American" one that made him sound like the guy from House (who is British) and doesn't sound local to Buffalo at all. But I guess that's one of those things people don't think about.
They looked at each other and laughed, and I was deeply embarrassed to find out that Justin hadn't been hitting on me at all, they'd set the thing up as a joke. Randi came in after that and we got a booth.
Obviously, I was the object of conversational interest. They asked me all sorts of questions, things I expected to answer, my likes/dislikes, my background, stuff I could handle. My mission was to seem like "Cliff's" perfect girl, someone who shared his interests and understood him as a person. Maybe it sounds cheesy, but it was really amazing to play that role (only later did I get sad when I thought about the fact that such a girl may not exist in real life.)
By the end of the night, we had made plans to meet up again the next night after our family thanksgiving dinners, and then brave the Walden Galleria on Black Friday. Justin seemed suitably impressed (despite my just-off-the-buss look) and Randi seemed like she had found a new girl-friend... which is sad, because I will not be in her life for long, will I... as Cliff drove me home in my own car (I had wanted to drive but was definitely not sober, I hadn't seen him take a drink all night) we talked about what a success we had been, what a "smashing" couple we made, as he reverted to his more natural accent.
I made fun of his American accent. "Wot, d'ye not like it?" he asked, "I been practicin' for months, you should'a heard me when a'first got out here. I'da thought the accent changes with the body, but no. People was lookin' at me like I's an alien back in August, and now listen!" He switched to American "My name is Cliff, it's nice to meet you. Let's watch the Bills this Sunday."
I laughed at his antics. He's a very funny guy, very charismatic. he told me he learned accents because he used to act a bit, but never really had to polish up his American. I guess considering that, he's pretty good, seeing as how bad my British accent is. And that's having spent a lifetime watching Monty Python...
We got back to my apartment - Cliff's apartment - and I walked around, taking note of all the things he'd moved, and all the things he'd kept the same. "I'm gonna make a pot of tea, you want some?" Sure. We spent the evening talking, late into the night, just talking, him about England, me answering his questions about who John Henry Clifford really is... it's sad to realize there are things I don't even know about myself.
Around 2 AM, we were on the couch and I was drifting off, but a thought occurred to me, so I told him, "If you want... you can tell them we did it. I mean, that's what they think I'm here for. It'll make you look cool, and I don't mind..."
"Now, that wouldn't be very gentlemanly," he sighed, "I don't intend on tellin' them anything that didn't actually happen. I respect yer virtue too much."
He smiled, I laughed. "Well, that's nothing they haven't heard before... Cliff can't close the deal."
"You're all right, Cliff. You're a sharp guh--" I could tell he was gonna say "girl" but stopped himself and changed it halfway to "guy."
"Well, I'd better get to bed..." I said, "Thanksgiving is a pretty exhausting day even if you're well-rested."
"I have to admit I'm a wee bit excited to see exactly what the fuss is about. We haven't anything like it back home, from what I seen on the telly."
I laughed again, still slightly inebriated, "Haha, the telly. If my dad heard the way you talk... oh, brother."
He ushered me into my room even after I offered to take the couch. "Now now, we won't be having that," he insisted, "I am only a guest in yer body, and I insist on treating you fairly."
I changed into my pajamas and slung my bra over the side of the bed, taking a moment to take in how foreign the image of women's clothes in my room really looked. not only that, but being undressed, letting my breasts see the air, in a room that was once my private sanctum, felt more scandalous than it should have. This used to be my place, but now I really did feel like an outsider.
I noticed the lingering body odor of Cliff on the pillows and sheets. The strangeness of it, nothing I would have noticed when I was me... I fell asleep nestled deep in the mattress trench made by my old body.
More to come
The upside is, you don't know me. To you, I am just a bunch of words on a screen, not a person. An idea about a man in a woman's body. I assume you believe me, or are willing to pretend you do, even though if you met me in person, you'd probably think "This woman is crazy." So I have nothing to hide. Not to mention, you have all proven remarkably understanding about what's going on in my life, willing to hear my stories about putting on panties and bras and wondering if I am still the man inside I feel I should be. Through interacting with fellow victims and kind anonymous readers I have felt safe and secure, and reassured that things will go okay. I don't know how people have lived through this Trading Post ordeal without a blog like this one. It has helped me grow comfortable in this skin well beyond what I ever dreamed, in such a short time, when I first got changed (if that sentence makes any sense, please don't judge me, Alia!)
So I want to thank you, by assuring you of my absolute honesty here and hoping it all comes out well. In the past, I'll admit, I have omitted details, but never anything I thought would be important later, and usually I'm right. Thanksgiving was a big story, and I intend not to omit anything I think is important... it may end up being multiple posts. But I want to get as much out of it out there as I can.
It was the kind of vacation you need a whole other vacation to recover from. It started with a long, long, long bus trip, (drive from Philly to Buffalo it's 6 hours, take a bus and it's double that) early Wednesday morning. I decided to bring a couple of Tori's old diaries for reading material. Foolishly, I decided to begin at the beginning, and it's a long story. The first entry is dated to her twelfth birthday, January 30th 1999. I never realized how much older I was than her, until I thought about the fact that at the time she was writing on that page, I was a 17-year-old boy in high school. Not long after that I was in college studying computer sciences, a field that you'll probably understand grows as time has gone on... it put me in an odd nostalgia trip.
As you can imagine, there's very little that a 12-year-old might have to say that has to do with my current life, but I felt it was necessary to browse anyhow. It's full of the necessary prepubescent complaints. Her parents control her life too much, school is boring, her little sister is a pain... little Leah Mae was only six years old in 1999. The girl who just last week was asking whether I thought it was the right time to give up her virginity. Ick.
The handwriting was also scratchy, the spelling bad, the grammar awful, not that I'm holding it against her I'm just saying it made it tough to read. I found myself thumbing over pages that I couldn't decipher, and where nothing seemed to jump out at me. Many of the entries were spare, short summaries of what she did that day or what she was mad about, or how she had fun with her friends.
One helpful commenter on my last post noted that the diaries could be considered an extension of the letter I got when I woke up as Tori, which to a degree is true. It definitely helps me understand her better. But at the same time, the letter was written by a 22-year-old girl, to put her life in a context a stranger might understand. The bare essentials. The diaries were clearly never meant for someone other than Tori to read, and they sometimes make puzzling references (names, places, events that are never explained, but later become slightly more clear.) This is all access, but a lot of it is locked out. As the book goes on, she writes longer entries with more references and explanations that relate to what I'd already read, so I assume that as the books go on I will gain more understanding as my frame of reference builds.
I guess if my original intention was to learn specifically about sex, 12 was definitely the wrong place to start, and as you can tell there's more at work here. Learning more about how Tori talks to herself has helped me learn about her as a person. There are times when she seems very analytical, like me, and she was still only 12. Other times, she's just gossipy.
I arrived in Buffalo after dinner. Willy had told me he'd be busy and unable to meet until a bit later than that, so I arranged to meet with him at a favourite bar of mine and Justin's.
The commenter also mentioned a parallel with something the original Ashlyn/Jean-Michel had done, which I'll admit was partly my inspiration. I was eager to see my old friends, my family. Willy and I had cooked up a none-too-original (and slightly unbelievable, if you know me) cover story, where I was a girl "Cliff" had met online, and we hit it off, and I had agreed to meet him in person. The unbelievable part is that I could never envision myself hitting it off with a girl like Tori... girls like Tori don't tend to be interested in guys like J.H. Clifford, and to be honest I had written girls like her off as not being my type, personality-wise (not that I wouldn't have stared impotently if she came into the bar.) But I figured, we have Inn-magic on our side, people will believe whatever we say.
I arrived at the bar and didn't see Willy there, so I took a seat at the bar. About halfway through my first beer, Justin arrived. I pretended not to notice him, because I didn't want to act like I knew him without Willy around so we could keep things straight. But he sat next to me anyway and ordered a draft. I kept my eyes forward and drank up.
"Excuse me," he said. I didn't move. "Miss?" I looked over. He had this odd smile on his face. "You're drinking awfully fast, I just thought I'd point that out."
"Oh, um," I blushed, oddly embarrassed, "I'm just nervous about something. and I like my drink."
"I can see that," he joked, "Why don't you let me get you another one?"
"No, it's okay," I was off-put, "I'm just waiting for someone."
He smiled at me and said "Well if they don't show up, feel free to have a drink with me. I'm Justin."
Reluctantly, I shook his hand "Tori." It suddenly because very obvious that Justin was coming onto me.
Full disclosure: I've had guys look at me with desire quite a bit since I've been female. There are days it makes me feel nice, there are days it makes me feel absolutely shitty, depending on how I feel about my body/my mind that day, and who's doing the looking. By and large I am able to ignore it, and when a guy seems like he is about to proposition me I've got the art of polite rejection down.
But this is my friend. He's supposed to know me. I know all about the Inn magic, but part of me wishes that the fact that we've known each other for over a decade meant he was able to see past my long hair and nice breasts and realize he was talking to his best friend. And hopefully that would stop him. This not to mention the fact that he's dating a really great girl, Randi.
Then just as things were about to get super-awkward for me, in came a shockingly familiar face -- my own. I never thought of myself as a particularly tall guy, but my real body is head and shoulders above the 5'5 Tori (I am on break from heels.) He bounded in with confidence. "There you are! Justin, I see you've met Tori."
He spoke with such zeal, so boldly, so friendly to Justin you'd think they really had been friends all their lives. When I spoke to Willy on the phone he had a rather British accent, but I could tell he was putting on an "American" one that made him sound like the guy from House (who is British) and doesn't sound local to Buffalo at all. But I guess that's one of those things people don't think about.
They looked at each other and laughed, and I was deeply embarrassed to find out that Justin hadn't been hitting on me at all, they'd set the thing up as a joke. Randi came in after that and we got a booth.
Obviously, I was the object of conversational interest. They asked me all sorts of questions, things I expected to answer, my likes/dislikes, my background, stuff I could handle. My mission was to seem like "Cliff's" perfect girl, someone who shared his interests and understood him as a person. Maybe it sounds cheesy, but it was really amazing to play that role (only later did I get sad when I thought about the fact that such a girl may not exist in real life.)
By the end of the night, we had made plans to meet up again the next night after our family thanksgiving dinners, and then brave the Walden Galleria on Black Friday. Justin seemed suitably impressed (despite my just-off-the-buss look) and Randi seemed like she had found a new girl-friend... which is sad, because I will not be in her life for long, will I... as Cliff drove me home in my own car (I had wanted to drive but was definitely not sober, I hadn't seen him take a drink all night) we talked about what a success we had been, what a "smashing" couple we made, as he reverted to his more natural accent.
I made fun of his American accent. "Wot, d'ye not like it?" he asked, "I been practicin' for months, you should'a heard me when a'first got out here. I'da thought the accent changes with the body, but no. People was lookin' at me like I's an alien back in August, and now listen!" He switched to American "My name is Cliff, it's nice to meet you. Let's watch the Bills this Sunday."
I laughed at his antics. He's a very funny guy, very charismatic. he told me he learned accents because he used to act a bit, but never really had to polish up his American. I guess considering that, he's pretty good, seeing as how bad my British accent is. And that's having spent a lifetime watching Monty Python...
We got back to my apartment - Cliff's apartment - and I walked around, taking note of all the things he'd moved, and all the things he'd kept the same. "I'm gonna make a pot of tea, you want some?" Sure. We spent the evening talking, late into the night, just talking, him about England, me answering his questions about who John Henry Clifford really is... it's sad to realize there are things I don't even know about myself.
Around 2 AM, we were on the couch and I was drifting off, but a thought occurred to me, so I told him, "If you want... you can tell them we did it. I mean, that's what they think I'm here for. It'll make you look cool, and I don't mind..."
"Now, that wouldn't be very gentlemanly," he sighed, "I don't intend on tellin' them anything that didn't actually happen. I respect yer virtue too much."
He smiled, I laughed. "Well, that's nothing they haven't heard before... Cliff can't close the deal."
"You're all right, Cliff. You're a sharp guh--" I could tell he was gonna say "girl" but stopped himself and changed it halfway to "guy."
"Well, I'd better get to bed..." I said, "Thanksgiving is a pretty exhausting day even if you're well-rested."
"I have to admit I'm a wee bit excited to see exactly what the fuss is about. We haven't anything like it back home, from what I seen on the telly."
I laughed again, still slightly inebriated, "Haha, the telly. If my dad heard the way you talk... oh, brother."
He ushered me into my room even after I offered to take the couch. "Now now, we won't be having that," he insisted, "I am only a guest in yer body, and I insist on treating you fairly."
I changed into my pajamas and slung my bra over the side of the bed, taking a moment to take in how foreign the image of women's clothes in my room really looked. not only that, but being undressed, letting my breasts see the air, in a room that was once my private sanctum, felt more scandalous than it should have. This used to be my place, but now I really did feel like an outsider.
I noticed the lingering body odor of Cliff on the pillows and sheets. The strangeness of it, nothing I would have noticed when I was me... I fell asleep nestled deep in the mattress trench made by my old body.
More to come
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Cliff/Tori: Know yourself
My friend Justin - a guy I've written about a few times here - had a theory about women. Well it was about people in general but he always applied it to women. He used to say there were three things you had to do to get to know someone.
One: Ask them about themselves.
Two: Ask other people about them.
Three: Go through their stuff.
I'm not sure how serious about that last one he was, but it's definitely how I've gotten to know about Tori. Obviously the base of the first one was covered by the letter Tori left me, but you've always got to beware of the way people talk about themselves. Only someone with serious self-loathing issues would emphasize how their life had gone horribly wrong and they wound up living with their parents after a failed shot at being a hairdresser. Hiding the embarrassing parts of her life (I don't know why, I was bound to find out) left her letter irritatingly vague.
I've gotten access to Tori's old emails too - both her inbox and outbox. At first I was just fascinated at the level of intimate detail I was getting about this stranger's life, until I realized it was now my life to lead. Then I got a little depressed. Tori shows a really unhealthy judgmental attitude in some of these things, ripping into people she sometimes describes as her best friends, and the way she talked about her ex-boss it's no wonder she got canned, and I wonder how badly this is affecting my job search.
I can't exactly go up to these people and ask them what they think of Tori. Her two best friends, Sara and Raine, went to Europe this summer, leaving her here - her big getaway was to Maine with Rob. I can't help but imagine that maybe Sara and Raine really didn't want her on the trip with them.
The most feedback I've gotten is from Mae. She's kind of an annoying presence in that she's always carping at me, but I like to think she and I would've gotten along okay if I was a teenager in my past life. I would've understood her better than I would have understood Tori. She and Tori are pretty much opposites.
I don't want to say Tori's an airhead and Mae is brainy. Tori looks to have done half-decent in school - not honor roll or anything but not a failure. She went to beauty school instead of college so I can't really discern much more from that other than, you know, she was good with hair and stuff. She writes pretty literately, with some run-on-sentences that make me have to re-read sometimes, and occasionally she mixes up "you're/your" and such. Not a big deal as far as I'm concerned.
Mae is sarcastic, very down-to-Earth, a bit lazy. has good taste in movies and music (better than Tori's in my opinion.) Dresses rebelliously but conservatively - mostly in black, very grungy/punky. A fair bit curvier than Tori, and not quite as tall but we're close. Natural blonde hair with dark streaks.
I kind of want to get to know her, to get along with her, as long as I'm stuck here but she's given me the evil eye every time we get near each other, despite a peaceful co-existence. She tries to ignore me, and I'm trying to at least be polite to her. Maybe indicate that Tori has changed somehow, even if I can't make her understand how.
It seems to be working okay. Tuesday I came into the family room and flopped down in a chair to rest my eyes after another annoying interview - they're getting better - when Mae came in and started flipping through the channels.
"What's the matter Vic? Pimps aren't hiring?"
"Nah," I said by reflex, "They gave the job to your mom."
I looked over at her - she was half confused, half amused. It took me a moment to realize "her mom" was "my mom" too. Then we both laughed a bit. That broke the month-long ice a little. We sat and watched daytime TV without further incident. I still don't think she's my biggest fan, but I'm thinking she doesn't hate me either. I've got an older brother, I know sibling relationships can be complicated.
I'm hoping, in time "Cliff" will appear more obviously behind Tori's appearance. I like to think I was a pretty likable guy, so having hostility in my life is a little annoying.
One: Ask them about themselves.
Two: Ask other people about them.
Three: Go through their stuff.
I'm not sure how serious about that last one he was, but it's definitely how I've gotten to know about Tori. Obviously the base of the first one was covered by the letter Tori left me, but you've always got to beware of the way people talk about themselves. Only someone with serious self-loathing issues would emphasize how their life had gone horribly wrong and they wound up living with their parents after a failed shot at being a hairdresser. Hiding the embarrassing parts of her life (I don't know why, I was bound to find out) left her letter irritatingly vague.
I've gotten access to Tori's old emails too - both her inbox and outbox. At first I was just fascinated at the level of intimate detail I was getting about this stranger's life, until I realized it was now my life to lead. Then I got a little depressed. Tori shows a really unhealthy judgmental attitude in some of these things, ripping into people she sometimes describes as her best friends, and the way she talked about her ex-boss it's no wonder she got canned, and I wonder how badly this is affecting my job search.
I can't exactly go up to these people and ask them what they think of Tori. Her two best friends, Sara and Raine, went to Europe this summer, leaving her here - her big getaway was to Maine with Rob. I can't help but imagine that maybe Sara and Raine really didn't want her on the trip with them.
The most feedback I've gotten is from Mae. She's kind of an annoying presence in that she's always carping at me, but I like to think she and I would've gotten along okay if I was a teenager in my past life. I would've understood her better than I would have understood Tori. She and Tori are pretty much opposites.
I don't want to say Tori's an airhead and Mae is brainy. Tori looks to have done half-decent in school - not honor roll or anything but not a failure. She went to beauty school instead of college so I can't really discern much more from that other than, you know, she was good with hair and stuff. She writes pretty literately, with some run-on-sentences that make me have to re-read sometimes, and occasionally she mixes up "you're/your" and such. Not a big deal as far as I'm concerned.
Mae is sarcastic, very down-to-Earth, a bit lazy. has good taste in movies and music (better than Tori's in my opinion.) Dresses rebelliously but conservatively - mostly in black, very grungy/punky. A fair bit curvier than Tori, and not quite as tall but we're close. Natural blonde hair with dark streaks.
I kind of want to get to know her, to get along with her, as long as I'm stuck here but she's given me the evil eye every time we get near each other, despite a peaceful co-existence. She tries to ignore me, and I'm trying to at least be polite to her. Maybe indicate that Tori has changed somehow, even if I can't make her understand how.
It seems to be working okay. Tuesday I came into the family room and flopped down in a chair to rest my eyes after another annoying interview - they're getting better - when Mae came in and started flipping through the channels.
"What's the matter Vic? Pimps aren't hiring?"
"Nah," I said by reflex, "They gave the job to your mom."
I looked over at her - she was half confused, half amused. It took me a moment to realize "her mom" was "my mom" too. Then we both laughed a bit. That broke the month-long ice a little. We sat and watched daytime TV without further incident. I still don't think she's my biggest fan, but I'm thinking she doesn't hate me either. I've got an older brother, I know sibling relationships can be complicated.
I'm hoping, in time "Cliff" will appear more obviously behind Tori's appearance. I like to think I was a pretty likable guy, so having hostility in my life is a little annoying.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Cliff: Solitaire
So I've been kicking around this inn for a few days when I notice this flier under my door. Online guestbook project, huh? Well whatever. I'm bored enough.
The flier asks me to drop by and say who I am, where I'm from, what brings me to the inn. Well I'm not that interesting I guess. My name's Cliff. Actually it's John Henry Clifford, but there's so many Johns in the world, I usually go by Cliff. I'm from Buffalo. I work in IT. Awesome, right? Moving on.
I'm here because Justin and I booked the trip to Maine when we thought there was gonna be parties and stuff. I know it's not typically thought of as a party place, but you know, beach, ladies, toss a little booze in the mix and see what happens right? You go to a place like New York or Miami or wherever and it's crowded 'cause every jerk thinks he's a playa, but there's girls everywhere man. I thought Maine might be a little underrated.
Well, we booked the trip, then Justin met Randi. Actually, we both met Randi. Actually, I met her first, but it was the same week, and even though I thought there might be some connection with her and me... he won out. And good for him 'cause they're great together. So he brought Randi up for the week, to stay at the hotel we booked, and I wound up at the Trading Post Inn. There is not even a bar on the premises and it's pissing rain 24/7 all week. Ya. And every time I go out with Justin and Randi I feel like Mr. Third Wheel. So it's either go with them and feel awkward or sit here and feel bored. Wish I had a deck of cards.
There's not a lot of talent around here. I don't wanna be a jerk or anything but there's a bunch of couples, and a mom and her teenage girl. And then the other day this chick comes to the room next door. I think I might have a shot with her, but I've gotta play it cool. Beyond that I don't have much of an opinion of the place.
So the plan right now is to get home in time for 4th of July. I thought it might be nice to stick around for the fireworks here, but the reservation's up at the end of this week. Ah well. No place like home right?
(He said with a sigh.)
Nah, just kiddin.
The flier asks me to drop by and say who I am, where I'm from, what brings me to the inn. Well I'm not that interesting I guess. My name's Cliff. Actually it's John Henry Clifford, but there's so many Johns in the world, I usually go by Cliff. I'm from Buffalo. I work in IT. Awesome, right? Moving on.
I'm here because Justin and I booked the trip to Maine when we thought there was gonna be parties and stuff. I know it's not typically thought of as a party place, but you know, beach, ladies, toss a little booze in the mix and see what happens right? You go to a place like New York or Miami or wherever and it's crowded 'cause every jerk thinks he's a playa, but there's girls everywhere man. I thought Maine might be a little underrated.
Well, we booked the trip, then Justin met Randi. Actually, we both met Randi. Actually, I met her first, but it was the same week, and even though I thought there might be some connection with her and me... he won out. And good for him 'cause they're great together. So he brought Randi up for the week, to stay at the hotel we booked, and I wound up at the Trading Post Inn. There is not even a bar on the premises and it's pissing rain 24/7 all week. Ya. And every time I go out with Justin and Randi I feel like Mr. Third Wheel. So it's either go with them and feel awkward or sit here and feel bored. Wish I had a deck of cards.
There's not a lot of talent around here. I don't wanna be a jerk or anything but there's a bunch of couples, and a mom and her teenage girl. And then the other day this chick comes to the room next door. I think I might have a shot with her, but I've gotta play it cool. Beyond that I don't have much of an opinion of the place.
So the plan right now is to get home in time for 4th of July. I thought it might be nice to stick around for the fireworks here, but the reservation's up at the end of this week. Ah well. No place like home right?
(He said with a sigh.)
Nah, just kiddin.
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