Ainsley: Out Of Bounds

Nobody told me going on my first first date in three years would be this nerve-wracking!

OK that's a lie, everybody told me that. My friends, kind of my roommate, musicians, those reality TV ladies who've had enough of their exes' bullcrap but also haven't had enough of Netflix's bullcrap. And even kind of me, but the last time I'd just gotten over a breakup was... I don't even wanna think about it! So, it turns out it's just another one of those things you have to learn firsthand no matter how many times people try to warn you.

Tinder hasn't gotten any better since I was fresh out of college, that's for sure. But it's not like I had high expectations in the first place? I'd just like to know at what age I'll see fewer pics of guys holding up a fish than of them. I don't know. Golfing? From what I hear at work there's a point when a set of golf clubs magically zaps into a man's bedroom and he starts having opinions about who's going to win The Masters.

You know it had to be a dog pic that got me. Yeah yeah, I'm so predictable, I get it!!! But what am I supposed to do, just turn down the chance to meet an adorable Dachshund? Hey guys-- bigger isn't always better when it comes to dogs! It leans in to the whole inoffensively cute vibe the guy -- Erik -- had that let me feel comfortable enough to roll the dice. Don't want to get back into dating on a bad note, after all.

We met up outside the restaurant he picked and that's when it hit me how I hadn't really had a one-on-one conversation with a man in. Well over a year, I think? Not counting work stuff.

But dinner went really well actually, and not just the surprisingly great Korean/Mexican fusion food! I would've been happy to let him do most of the talking, just to put the pressure off since I'm still a little nervous about everything. Instead he seemed really interested in my hobbies instead of just wanting to go on all evening about the rock climbing gym he's at half the time. Not that I have a ton of interesting hobbies right now, lol. But it was a good excuse as any to bring up SugarBunny and the dog talk carried us the rest of the way through dinner.

Erik's a busy guy, and before we met up he told me about another hobby of his and invited me to come with. Contra dancing. Really?? I didn't know anything about it but I figured the average age would be like, 50 so it seemed pretty harmless and I said yes. I can handle a little dancing, right? It won't be a nightclub this time, I should be able to have fun somewhere like that.

My first impression was the crowd was actually pretty young, so I was wrong about that! Maybe I'm not as in touch as I like to think. Dinner ran kinda late so we got there with only a couple minutes left of everyone standing around and Erik giving me a rapidfire explanation of how to contradance before the music started and everyone paired up. There was some kind of emcee on stage saying random phrases that correspond to dance moves but I had no idea what any of them went, so I just kind of let Erik guide me through whatever we had to do and tried to follow along. Then before I know it everyone switched partners and I stood there staring around at the crowd of strangers before this other guy made eye contact and came up before I could say anything. He tried twirling me around but before I could even think about where to put my feet everyone switched partners again, this girl with a pixie cut looked at me, and the same thing happened again! Finally it was back to Erik, where I hoped I'd get at least a couple minutes to catch myself.

But I didn't get any better. Erik kept telling me to just relax, try not to move so stiffly, and I wasn't able to make myself do it. The others who wanted to dance with me seemed just as unimpressed. It's like, no matter what I tried, I was always out of step with everyone else. We lasted fifteen minutes before Erik took me aside and asked if I was having a good time. I think Mel would have a good time at a place like this. Sara would act all embarrassed about going somewhere this wholesome and have some choice words, but she'd find a way to have fun with it anyway. And Ainsley... Ainsley...

Okay, look. I know that I owe any of you readers who may happen to be concerned a real explanation for what's going on with me. I'm going to say it up front: I know I'm not Ainsley, I don't believe I'm Ainsley, I didn't wake up one morning so unable to cope with the reality of the Inn and my own body's uncertain status that I convinced myself I'm someone else. Regardless of what anyone else does, I'm going to Old Orchard Beach when the reservation receipt says I am.

But if everyone kept telling you there's something wrong with you, whether they know the truth or not, and you start to believe it, and you kind of always did. And there was a hole in the world, one whose shape you suddenly fit, one you become immersed in every hour of your life for months, and you can tell how badly everyone around you wishes it were never there, and what left it behind had a better life than you... Wouldn't you eventually want to fill it? Just to see what it's like? Would it really be so horrible to try more than just the minimum of what the world expects?

That's what I realized, lying in my bed late one night. I hated the idea of giving in to the shit Sara and Marvin keep throwing at me, and a lot of Ainsley's choices weren't exactly ones I'd make on my own-- but I knew what those choices are! I had a guidebook, embedded into this entire life, for what's expected of the person shaped like Ainsley Thomas.

So I followed it-- more than the amount I'd been that's just enough to keep her from losing her job or (more of) her social life. I didn't wake up the next morning thinking I'm Ainsley, but I kept telling myself I did. I went to the gym, immersed myself in her interests, made small talk, annoyed my roommate, cooed at dogs, and generally tried to act like a happier person. And, to my shock, it sort of worked? Maybe it's the forced optimism but I think people have been nicer to me since I started doing this. The air of confused concern surrounding I used to get from Ainsley's circle lessened, even if it didn't go away. And over time, I got these moments where I could just, stop thinking about it and coast off the inertia of my own Ainsley impression. Like I've previously said, the important thing is keeping myself too busy and immersed to run out of momentum.

It essentially became a game where I'd ask myself how far I could take this. That's probably how I managed to talk myself into getting on Tinder, the prospect of which would've caused the me of even two months ago to spontaneously combust. Even still, I didn't intend taking it any further than going on one date and saying whatever I needed to to end things after that. I'd assumed that a random Tinder guy would give me plenty of reasons to regardless. But no, somehow my date turned out to know how to treat a lady.

That's a lot of what I thought in the back of my mind as I ran down my standard Ainsley small-talk script at Erik, being treated that way. How big his arms are compared to mine, getting the door opened for me, they way his speech was weird combination of respectful and slightly patronizing. He kept looking at me. Obviously I've experienced all this one way or another just by existing in public but that was always in situations where I could just leave or, at worst, zone out. But there, we both signed up for it, and I, Ainsley Thomas want to be treated that way on a date, I reminded myself. It's normal. Maybe I actually did kind of like parts of it once the sense of danger wore off a bit, but it's hard to tell whether I've Pavloved myself at this point. Or it was the novelty. I don't know.

The point is, I'd mentally prepared myself for my date to be the one to ruin it, but no, I had to ruin it when I finally hit the limit of my Ainsley persona. I just can't bring myself to dance. It's more funny than sad, compared to the nightclub from the bachelorette party. Clubs like that are high-pressure environments full of stressors that would've set me on edge even if I didn't have Ainsley's relationship with her best friend on the line. But I still can't find it in me to move freely in an all-ages group dance in a brightly lit gym? Come on. It makes it feel unreachable, that sense of fluidity and gracefulness (or enthusiasm, if the first two aren't great) all the women Ainsley's age I meet seem to have. Not that I could dance as a guy either but at least then it felt like there's lower expectations. Everyone at the contra dance could tell, they looked concerned, they were right to be!

I held off Erik's requests that we could seriously just chill out by the side and talk if I wasn't having any fun for about ten more minutes of dancing before I caved. But it felt like there wasn't anything to discuss. The momentum left broken and how un-Ainsley I really am returning in full force. Soon enough I left, telling him I'd had a good time (not completely a lie) and I'd talk to him later. We haven't spoken since, and now I don't know who I'm going to be in three days, in a different sense from how I don't know who I'm going to be in three months.

Ainsley: Rebound

Hey everyone! Just wanted to give you guys a couple updates on what I've been doing to get my life back together.

I know I've been in a funk for awhile, since I got out of the denial stage about the breakup, really. I wasn't feeling like myself and it took me too long to really realize how much it was hurting me and my friends. So one day, I just decided-- I've had enough! I can choose to be different! And so I told myself, and the world, that Ainsley Thomas is BACK!!!!!

I started by getting back into my old gym routine before work. Bringing back the habit of getting up that early was an adjustment but I've learned that keeping myself too busy to really think about anything is just part of the process, lol. It's also an adjustment for SugarBunny, who I think was finally getting used to having to get up before me for his walkies, but I can tell he's really happy about not having to practice his patience like that. I've neglected him more than anyone else lately and now I'm always giving him extra belly rubs to make up for it.

Like I said, the secret is just keeping myself busy. I got my hair done without waiting for the absolute last minute, volunteered to be a presentation lead at work for the first time in months, and best of all, quit it with the excuses for skipping Brunch With The Girls every now and then. These ladies know me better than anyone and I hate that I somehow lost sight of that. Well, them and my parents. I'm working on it but I don't know if I'm ready for that one yet.

I've even been having Mel over to help me catch up on Love Island. I hate how withdrawn I got from my bestie and it's been too long, even before the whole thing with my ex, since we just kind of chilled out on a couch together with a bottle of wine like we're back at the Gamma house. And god, the look on Sara's face when I started inviting someone over without telling her beforehand? Priceless. And she knows she can't complain about it, at least Mel always goes home before midnight!!

Sara and I for sure have our differences and rough patches, but I love the girl and she's been more on my case about how I'm not doing anything fun anymore than anyone else I know. And she was right! Which is why it's so weird to catch her staring at me like something's wrong every now and then. This is what everyone wants, right? For me to get over myself? Maybe I should just be flattered to get the hint that underneath the sarcasm she really does care about me, but it's still pretty weird.

I'm still getting those weird looks from some of the other girls, too. I'm not at a hundred percent yet, I know, I forgot in front of my friends about when we all went to an Eras Tour show and I had to spend a quarter of it consoling one of them in the bathroom when she got sick-- we all have our moments, you know? And I had to see the same concerned looks I've gotten ever since the breakup, and haven't really lessened since I decided to get my act back together.

I love my friends but maybe what I need is to meet some new people, people who haven't seen me at my worst. That's why I bit the bullet and finally redownloaded Hinge even if it makes me a little nervous to get back into things. Okay, a lot nervous. I'm definitely not ready for anything serious-- how can I commit to anything when I don't know what my life will look like a few months from now? But it'll help me train some muscles I haven't used in a long time, and maybe I'll come away from it with a couple interesting stories. That doesn't make updating my bio any less nerve-wracking though! All the pics are 3 years old at least and I don't have a lot of good recent ones. It's not cheating if I use ones from before last summer, right?

We'll see if anything happens. Or maybe I'll just get run over by how awful casual dating can be now that it's been long enough that I forgot about it. But really? I'm just glad I'm doing things on my own again-- really trying to be happy and enthusiastic and affectionate and all the things about myself I'd lost in that fog! And at the end of the day, all the hours I spent in front of the mirror teaching myself how to smile again are gonna be worth it.

Isaac/Ainsley: Ungrateful

Incredibly, by the time Thanksgiving came around and I couldn't put off meeting Ainsley's family any longer, I wasn't all that terrified. I don't know whether that's growth or just numbness, or if the two can be considered the same thing at times. It helps that, as Ainsley's family lives nearby and "I" blew all my PTO in Maine over the summer, I had an excuse to only show up for a few hours on the day of.

It was basically a vacation compared to the wedding, and nothing really noteworthy happened why didn't have a worse equivalent at the wedding. I fielded Ainsley's parents' questions about how the job is going, if I'm back into dating yet, and why I stopped showing up to watch the Cardinals with them this year with disappointingly flat answers. Her family does the big extended family gathering type of Thanksgiving (it was at an aunt's house), which normally isn't my speed but it helped keep me from getting put on the spot too much by the people who know Ainsley best, again.

Christmas went much the same way, after changing out the food and decorations. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

As predicted the holidays made it difficult for Ainsley's friends to coordinate any more big meetups for several weeks, not helped by how Ainsley is usually the one doing the coordinating. I got talked into a holiday party where about two-thirds of them showed up, it went okay. The wedding gave me enough experience with these girls to settle into an uncomfortable but stable equilibrium where they're clearly baffled by Ainsley's lack of being in sync, so to speak, but I'm present enough that they've learned not to pry too hard. I eat and drink and wait for a conversation topic which gives me opportunities to speak in ways that won't humiliate me and count down until I get to leave.

Melissa is the exception. I kept my promise to see her again and we've gotten lunch a couple times. Whenever I interact with her it feels as if she's trying to figure me out (though with less openly stated desperation than at the bachelorette party), as if she believes if she cracks the code, she'll be able to tease the real Ainsley back out. More than awkwardness, I just feel terrible for her. She's genuinely charismatic and engaging to be around, even if we don't have much in common, and all she wants and deserves is something I don't know how to give. But I can tell, she'd rather have the illusion of Ainsley in her life than to have her vanish again. So it goes.

That all being said I drew the line at going clubbing with the group on New Year's Eve. I already tried doing the courageous thing and taking a big step out of my comfort zone at the bachelorette party, and you remember how that went. Heather also made plans so I had the apartment to myself for the night. It went pretty well, all things considered. I broke into Ainsley's wine stash and watched The Truman Show. I'd had worse NYEs.

The next day I got a text from Isaac Strauss.

Also known as Marvin Harrell. I've kind of avoided talking about the man in my body, and I didn't like thinking much about him, either. Once it became clear that my life requires relatively little micromanagement it just became, too uncomfortable to imagine someone else in my place. Easier to avoid it altogether, despite how irrational a fear I thought it was.

Hey man,

I've been wanting to tell you. I mentioned I'm a 35-year-old guy, but that wasn't the whole truth. I'm SUPPOSED to be 35. But I was in this woman's seventies before I ended up in your body.

I've been in a few seventies, actually. An eighties, once. Life starts to look different when you keep taking peeks at the end. Fucker steals my body 'cause some girl smiled at him at the gym and he thinks he's got some kind of soulmate, and every summer since then that place finds another way to take everything from me again. Eyesight. Strength. Independence. The future. Lust, and not just that kind but. The lust for life. One time the guy in my at-the-time-body's husband's life got a heart attack, and he barely lived, but man, he got to go back in the end. And the fucked up part is you get used to it. You start to forget what you've lost, 'cause there's no other way to cope.

And then I finally got a good roll and woke up in your body and, man. You're a scrawny young guy, maybe that chick you're in's stronger than you used to be even. But you're a young guy. Could've been made of toothpicks and you'd still have one thing I hadn't had in years. Potential. You've got problems, but with the time to solve them. When a guy your age rots there's either something wrong with him or it's by choice. And I'm watching you do the same thing to Ainsley's life, too.

I just wanna know, what's up man? If you asked me in the first couple days I would've been relieved at how little you've got going on but it's just. Sad. The more I thought about it every joint pain-free day, the more I looked at you in the mirror, the less it sat right with me. And when I couldn't take it anymore I started making some changes. It's not that hard, you've got free time out the ass. Getting a real haircut was one of the first things I did. Been hitting the gym for a while now. Tried figuring out how to take care of your plants but some of them keep trying to die on me, I'm working on it though. Started chatting with some people at the dining hall, been going on hikes with them every now and then. Not a bad time. I tried out for the improv club but ate shit at the audition. You'd think all this Inn stuff'd make us better actors. Oh, and I cut off that girl you're always texting. She's too nice to say it, but she's for sure tired of you dude. Being the only person you have. You've been holding yourself back, it's for the best. Trust me, I've been there.

So yeah, I'll let you know about Inn reservation stuff once that opens up but I just felt like I had to tell you all that. You've gotta appreciate what you've got before it's gone. I mean, can I keep your life? It's not like you were using it. Lol

-Marv

I had to replace Ainsley's phone after that.

Isaac/Ainsley: Not Like Other Girls

After all that, I learned it's not that hard to dissociate your way through a wedding.

So much of it didn't require a lot of social effort. Yes, the other bridesmaids looked at me weird when I met them in the hotel lobby the next morning, and I gave Melissa a probably unsatisfyingly-flat reassurance when she asked me if I'm okay again. But after that it was easy. We all got our hair and makeup done; I let the other girls handle the obligatory small talk with the hairdressers and obviously we couldn't talk while our makeup got applied. Afterwards, everyone was too focused with helping Cayley navigate her big day to worry about me, besides the occasional concerned glance from Melissa.

We got Cayley into her dress and I silently watched her fiancée get his first opportunity to gawk over her. The wedding photos were a breeze; I just had to turn my brain off and do whatever the photographer said. He gave me a couple of reminders to smile more, which is a typical comment for me to get in my own life during the rare occasions I've had photos taken professionally, but he had criticisms and suggestions for several more of us so I didn't stick out there. The whole experience had the opposite dynamic from how it used to be when I went to weddings and bar mitzvahs as a kid: I now prayed for busywork and scheduled activities instead of facing the terrors of getting a break and being responsible for my own choices. Basically, I preferred the role of bridesmaid to the role of Ainsley.

The ceremony all went according to script, aside from the ringbearer faceplanting and some guest leaping out of his aisle seat to catch the rings before they hit the ground. Good thing the venue was indoors, I suppose. I cheered and clapped for the bride, fake-laughed half a second after the other bridesmaids whenever the maid of honor referenced some sorority story or in-joke in her speech. I mostly occupied myself strategizing exactly how long I had to stay at the reception before I could go home without causing suspicion, but to my surprise I actually found myself caught up in the ceremony a handful of times. Teared up a little. I think it's because I'd spent the last couple of days seeing a lot of Cayley and she came across as a shy, very nice person who deserves her happiness. Not that I didn't feel weird about it once I realized what I was doing, nor did it make me any better at shouting and cheering for her when the time came.

Finally the reception arrived. Just a few more hours before I got to relax. We had dinner and I made sure to focus more on eating my food when the conversation turned to subjects I was less able to respond to. When the bridesmaids all got up to dance, I activated the plan I'd come up with for avoiding a repeat of last night's disaster: I'd let the talkative groomsman I'd been paired with for the ceremony dance with me.

That certainly wasn't something I would've done fresh out the Inn a few months ago, but if there's anything I've learned since then it's that people who actually know Ainsley are far more terrifying to interact with than anyone who doesn't. Still, I found myself reminded of one reason I was so terrified to go out in public at first. It hit me after I'd already allowed him to invite me to the dance floor just how infrequently I interact with men anymore for more than fleeting moments; Ainsley's friends are all women, and so is the one person stuck in this misadventure with me. (Not that she'd consider herself stuck.) Really there's only the men at Ainsley's job, and her office is decidedly majority-female so being around them isn't especially nerve-wracking. This guy, on the other hand. He didn't do anything wrong. But everything about being around him-- the leading questions he asked me, the occasional comments, how he held onto my waist during the slow dance and how big his hands were, the way he kept scanning my body-- made it hit me that in this body I'm a woman, in a way that wearing bras, having a period and spending a weekend as a bridesmaid didn't. The sheer difference from how I would've interacted with him in my own body. And that is, deeply uncomfortable to have to think about.

But at the end of the day, my plan worked. I could respond to all his small talk and when it came to dancing I just let him lead me. I never had to live up to any expectations besides those related to the immediate setting. And nobody interrupted me to ask me if I was doing okay. As uncomfortable as it was, it solved the problem I'd hoped to solve. After I was satisfied with how long we'd been dancing I even let the guy have my number when he asked, as a tip of sorts, not that I plan on being prompt with any responses. And with that, I said my goodbyes to Cayley and the bridesmaids, made sure to hug Melissa and promise to see her again soon (we'll see. The upcoming holidays provide me with a lot of convenient excuses but I really did mean it), and went on my way.

I noticed an open window as I parked in front of the apartment, and when I walked in there was Heather, on the couch, a lit joint in hand. I was relieved to see her, which mostly only happens when I'm exhausted from trying to be Ainsley. It's never a great sign about how I spent my day, or my weekend in this case. "Welcome back, girlie", she told me. I looked down at myself in my bridesmaid dress and sighed, standing there for a few moments.

"Heather..." I asked, "Do you think there's something I'm missing, some obvious piece I've overlooked for why I'm so much worse at pretending to be... these lives, than you, or the people on the blog?" I had a lot of time to dwell on the drive back home. "Like, there's people who can but choose not to because they don't care, or there's horrible situations like kids in adult bodies who really can't do it. But I'm not in a position like that, there's no reason I shouldn't be able to. Can I figure it out and it'll just click into place, and I'll slap myself wondering how I could've been stupid enough to overlook it? Or is there something wrong with me and I'm just that different from everyone else?"

Heather thought for a little while. Answering that question probably wasn't the way she'd planned to spend her chill Saturday night indoors. So she didn't. Instead she scooched over on the couch, shrugged, and silently offered me the joint.

I hesitated, but not long enough to change out of the bridesmaid dress, before I sat down and accepted.

Isaac/Ainsley: Average Nightclub Experience

The wedding rehearsal amounted to a relaxing break. I just had to sit there and be quiet, walk up to the stage when told, and then stand there and be quiet except for some clapping and congratulations. Tolerate walking back to the table next to some talkative groomsman whose name I'm not bothering to remember. It's like the paint-and-sip was, just with a much higher sense of dread in the background.

I barely paid attention to the rehearsal dinner; it was basically the same situation as the bridal shower regardless. The real gauntlet awaited me at the end of the night: the bachelorette party. Below I am going to provide a helpful bulleted list of everything I disliked of what I knew I was likely to encounter:

• Nightclubs
• Dancing
• Loud music
• DJs
• Packed, crowded indoor spaces
• Dancing where others can see me
• Strippers...? (Nobody said anything about it, but I wasn't about to discount the possibility that the maid of honor had a couple surprises up her sleeve.)
• High heels
• Being expected to seem like I'm genuinely having fun with all of the above
• Dancing where others can see me in a packed, crowded indoor space with loud music, in high heels

Pacing back and forth across my room at the hotel attached to the venue, in said heels, just highlighted how unprepared I was for this-- how unwilling I was to prepare for this. I can match faces to names, memorize wedding schedules, plan outfits, even practicing makeup feels kind of rewarding, but I couldn't bring myself to make more than a couple of token attempts at walking in these things.

I stared into the mirror at the still completely unreal sight of this self in a little back dress. She only looked ready for the club from the neck down; actual night-out makeup is another thing I hadn't bothered touching. Eventually I came to the conclusion that it'd be more embarrassing to slip and fall in front of everyone all drunk than to show up to the club in sneakers. Hell, that wouldn't even be remotely weird if not for the whole bachelorette party dress code. And I knew, I knew I'd get drunk. That'd be the only way I could possibly take all this.

Being second-to-last of the group to arrive at the hotel meant I didn't leave much time for anyone to ask why I looked so out of it. I held my tongue from criticizing how Cayley and/or her parents paid for a limo, but I'll admit the inside was kind of cool. I caught myself thinking the girls looked prettier than me and wondered why I'd let Ainsley's appearance matter to me for anything other than reputation-preserving reasons. I tried not to spend too much time looking out the tinted window.

Too quickly we arrived at some sort of small nightlife-heavy strip that looked like it's pretending to be a downtown. We went to a couple of bars, first a dive-ish sports bar that was fairly uncrowded for a Friday night, then a busier, classier wine bar. Each time, I positioned myself so I'd be one of the last of the group whose orders would get taken and copy what one of the girls in front of me got. (This was my first time taking advantage outside a grocery store of being drinking age months ahead of schedule.) I made the best small talk I could, attempted to balance getting drunk enough to survive this with how little I knew about Ainsley's tolerance, and fiddled with my BRIDE SQUAD sash.

I'd never spent longer than twenty seconds in a nightclub before but nothing surprised me about the place. Maybe a little less crowded than in my nightmares, the music a little louder than I remembered. Grit the teeth. I was hoping to spend as much time clinging to the wall as I could get away with, but a couple minutes after we walked in the DJ gave Cayley a shoutout and put on a song the maid of honor submitted days ago, and we were all rushed out into the center of the club.

This is what I was most afraid of. Everything else can be tolerated, but I can't dance. Not even in the sense of not knowing how to dance though that's also the case. I genuinely can't dance. I'm not able to let myself go in the way dancing takes. I can do very structured dances with instructions (there they are again), or things like slow dancing with a partner where there's a very limited number of movement options and I don't have to think about what to do with my arms, not that I've done even that much since high school. But free-form, nightclub dancing? Jumping around and cheering? Shaking your ass? All impossible for me without looking stiff and robotic. Like a parody of the concept. I don't know why I'm like this, someone who can't cheer, who can't scream, even if I were in a situation where I really felt like doing either, let alone in that nightclub. But I've always been this way, and Ainsley Thomas hasn't.

I tried anyway, for Ainsley's sake. Maybe I was wrong, and some combination of alcohol, peer pressure, and the possibility of an Inn-related brain structure change helping me out would let me fit in with these girls. No juice. I couldn't bring myself to move without half-assing it. Seriously, what am I even afraid of? Does it go deeper than fear? The girls mostly paid attention to Cayley or the DJ but whenever any remembered to take a glance at me I got a few raised eyebrows. Nobody said anything but I think they just didn't want to ruin the vibe. The longer it lasted the more worried I got that this humiliation ritual was bad enough that some stranger in here might be recording me for cringe compilation material. It was probably under ten minutes in when I finally announced, to no one in particular, "I'm going to go get another drink." I didn't know if anyone heard me over the thrum.

At the bar, which took some time finding a relatively uncrowded path to, I ordered a gin and tonic. There's not really a demographic that looks weird for ordering a gin and tonic, far as I can tell. I sat there with my drink and scrolled through Ainsley's Instagram looking at old pics in which it seems like she's genuinely having fun. Comparing oneself to the highlights-only side of other people's lives they post to social media never makes anyone feel better but it's much worse when you're wearing the very body you're looking at and knowing, maybe, you'd be theoretically capable of doing those exact things, if you were different. A tall guy slid in next to me and asked if something happened between me and my friends or if I just wanted to get away for a bit. Said a girl as pretty as me shouldn't have to feel this way. Offered to buy me another drink. I looked at him for a moment, silenced the lingering trace of Ainsley trying to give me a reason to at least hear him out, and very theatrically downed the rest of my drink. "Excuse me, uh. I have to go to the bathroom," I declared like I'm having a conversation with my manager about why I come across as less passionate about my work than usual. And I went in there and found an empty stall and cried.

Crying, that's something I'm not blocked off from doing for unknown reasons. I didn't do it much as Isaac, but I could, and as Ainsley it's way more intense and honestly kind of cathartic. Still silent, though. I don't like to make noise. I sat there on the toilet for who knows how long, catching up on some plant blogs I've neglected following for a while and overhearing women talking about things refreshingly unrelated to my problems even if often they also weren't having a good time. Until I heard the door open and someone shout, "Ainsley? You in there?"

It's Melissa. Back to reality. "Fuck I hope she didn't leave the building." She moved slowly across the bathroom until she arrived at my stall. "I know those sneakers, Ainsley, open up." Damn these flimsy stalls. I thought about ignoring her but that'd just give me more consequences to deal with whenever I saw her again later in the night, or at the hotel or the wedding the next day. Plus, ignoring her would only confirm that I'm actually Ainsley; if I could change my voice on command convincingly it might get her to back off. I opened the stall.

"Hi," I told her. Melissa blocked my view of the mirror, but I didn't need it to know my makeup would betray that I'd been crying.

"Yeah, hi," she added, clearly hoping I'd have a little more to say. "Are you okay? There's a right answer, by the way, so don't BS me."

"No." She got me there, how else could I even respond?

"Good choice." She allowed herself the tiniest moment of satisfaction before the facade broke. "Okay seriously Ains, you have got to fucking tell me what is going on with you. For the last few months it's like, like the life's been sucked out of you."

Oh, god. It's this conversation. The blog archives warned me this could happen but there's nothing that really prepares you for it being sprung on you, especially if you've had a few drinks.

"You stopped going out with the rest of us, you stopped asking how we were doing... You hardly even talk to me anymore and I'm really worried about you! I know Jaysen was, you know, a lot for you. And I get it. I've been there. You helped me through there! But right when it happened, you were feeling awful but you still kept us in the loop. You told me everything, Ains. So when you don't, I..."

Now she's crying, too. "I owe you so much, you saw how much of a fucking mess I was when we first met. All those hangovers you got me through back at the house, the, the whole thing with my dad... You've been there for me no matter what, and I, whatever it is, I can't let you go through it alone! You're Ainsley Thomas and you deserve better than that!"

"Melissa, I--"

"And I don't wanna make this about me but, it hurts, seeing you like this. Not being able to talk to you, that you've gotten so distant. So please, please just. I need you to know I'm still here. I care about you. I love you. You've always told me everything, before. So, if you can at all, please..."

I took a breath, knowing this was unlikely to be a satisfying answer. Also I had to stop myself from outright sobbing. "Mel, I, I... love, you? Too. And I'm not. Having a good time lately. You're right. But I can't tell you, I know, I feel like shit, but I can't. And it's not Jaysen, it's, I really can't, okay?"

I grabbed onto her arm, not really knowing where that came from. "Mel, if you want to help me, I need you to trust me. Please."

Melissa looked to be in disbelief. Her face tensed as she clearly readied a plead over why Ainsley's being so difficult, why her best friend won't tell her what's putting her through so much pain.

But she caught herself. Anger replaced with simmering resignation. "Okay," Melissa said. "I'll see you later, then. When you're ready." And she walked out of the stall, leaving me to confront it all myself.

Isaac/Ainsley: Sorority Initiation Rites

Finally getting up to the point in November where I really had to start living Ainsley's life, between the wedding and the holidays, among other things. The wedding saga was long enough to split into several posts, so bear with me here.

Purple pastel V-neck midi-dress which conforms to the aesthetic of Ainsley's previous bridal shower visit but isn't the exact dress she wore to that. Slightly more eyeshadow than I'd wear to work, plus bronzer. A million reminders that everyone looks worse on a phone camera than in a mirror and that's why I don't look exactly like her past photos rather than me screwing up somehow.

Well, at least I look the part.

It was the day I finally couldn't escape, the day where my shame over ruining a borrowed life defeated my anxiety in a situation not directly related to keeping financially afloat. The day I actually see Ainsley's friends instead of trying to not sound too fake in the group chat. The bridal shower, which is merely an appetizer for my bridesmaid duties next weekend. One thing about having all your bridesmaids be sorority sisters who still live in the area means you can get away with things like a bridal shower a week before the wedding since nobody's going to have to pay travel costs, but it's. Well. I try to optimistically tell myself that it's better than just being thrown right in once I show up to the rehearsal dinner.

That's why I've been practicing my makeup even harder, reading through the group chat logs, anything that can be converted into a discrete problem with an actual goal. Something I could put on a spreadsheet, and did. Focusing on the practical elements of a problem to make the situation seem slightly less bad even if they pale in comparison to the painful reality has been my coping mechanism my whole life. This just raises the stakes.

So with that in mind I drove out deep into the Phoenix exurbs, throwing on one of Ainsley's playlists to hopefully distract myself enough to put me in a mindset closer to her. (It's really not bad. Lot of Fleetwood Mac in there.) I arrived at the tract townhouse precisely on time, which would give me a few minutes to ruminate over my situation and work up the courage to leave the car. I don't like being one of the first to arrive to anything, it makes me feel like I've been put on the spot. So I wait patiently, breathing in and out, calculating exactly the right moment I need to--

"Holy shit Ainsley is that you!?"

Before I knew it I'm pulled out of the car and into a tight hug. I was prepared for the hug but not the abruptness. It's Melissa, Ainsley's best friend from her sorority days. I owe her a few lunches.

"It's so great to see you! Seriously, I know I keep talking about it but, I'm glad to have you around, y'know? I really hope you've been doing okay."

She obviously doesn't think I've been doing okay. I blink. Remember to smile.

"...Wanna see some dog pics?"

Greeting the rest of Ainsley's friends went more or less the same way. Inside the townhouse were bride-to-be Cayley, her fiancée, mother and teenage sister, and the six bridesmaids, myself included. I had to reassure them that I'm not dead and try to dissociate enough to not look like I'm panicking. Fortunately the nature of the event meant I wasn't the center of attention, though Cayley came across like she's generally a fairly shy person who'd normally expect other people to drive the conversation. People like Ainsley Thomas. I know I kept getting looks from the other bridesmaids expecting a response that often wasn't coming. Even Cayley's mom did this a couple times. (Has she met Ainsley? I should research that before the wedding). Melissa was more than willing to pick up the slack, though, and so was the fiancée when he wasn't keeping to himself. I wonder if I'd feel more or less out of place here in his position.

It went moderately okay. The most frequent conversation topic was the upcoming wedding, which I could keep up with decently as the group chat had been pretty active about it for a while. Whenever I'm in a large group conversation with people who know Ainsley I feel the obligation to talk a certain percentage of the time so people don't get even more weirded out, so the wedding topic provided ample opportunity to dig myself out of conversational debt, so to speak. They talked about ASU's football season (going okay but not great, apparently) and Vince Gilligan's new show (I was bailed out of having to talk about it since I wasn't the only one who hadn't seen the episode).

I got some raised eyebrows when I gawked a bit about how much the last-minute catering switch cost. Ainsley is apparently well-known among her group for wanting an enormous wedding, which I instantly realized I'm a dumbass for not realizing that yeah, that sounds like her. And I dug myself even deeper with the only excuse I could think of: saying the breakup made me not want to think about weddings for a bit. My own wedding, I clarified to Cayley before she could say anything.

"Hey. Are you... How's that going for you, anyway?" Someone asked. "Does Jaysen still try to talk to you these days?"

"...No?" That was a lie. Every few weeks that guy will text me some bottom-tier meme that I'll just ignore. Not even a "hey bby missing u u up to anything tonite?" text, just the meme. Usually a poorly cropped TikTok screenshot. But I was so eager to end this part of the conversation that I didn't even want to divulge that much.

"Uh huh. And you still don't want to, right? 'Cause I swear, if that fucking guy--"

"No. Believe me, I'm done. I don't need him in my life right now and I don't really care if he tries. I'll just ignore him." Okay. Now time to smoothly navigate my way out of this conversation. "Oh, hey Cayley, can you tell me the kind of wine you got for this? Big fan."

Everyone stared. Melissa chimed in through awkward laughter: "Ains, I've known you for eight years now, and that's the most apathetic I've ever heard you sound."

I took a sip of wine.

Somehow the conversation moved back to normal topics. But now, after a long drive home full of replaying that moment in my head on loop, I can only think: I've got a whole weekend of this.

Isaac/Ainsley: Historical Texts

Does anyone else reread their old texts? And I don't only mean for especially emotionally charged nostalgia and/or regret about a couple moments. I mean for everything.

I do that, a lot. It's probably not healthy and it definitely fucks up how I perceive the past, but it's been a habit of mine since I was old enough to get a phone. In some ways conversations I've had over text feel more real in my memory than ones actually spoken in person. One lasts forever, the other fades away. I honestly kind of prefer having important conversations over text because of this, though I'm not so broken that talking in real life doesn't feel better in the moment. Charitably you can say this is what I do instead of keeping a journal. Sometimes I'll talk to someone and reference a conversation that happened a long time ago, and they'll go, what the hell are you talking about?

I gave that up when I surrendered my phone to the Inn. I'm now cut off from my past as well as my present. Ironically this makes me relate to my past more normally, but now I have a different past which I can reference.

So yes, I've been reading Ainsley's old texts. Call it an invasion of privacy unnecessary even by Inn standards, but I'm already doing enough to weird out The Girls without changing up Ainsley's texting style. Not really in any particular order besides scrolling up a bit in the most recent conversations, I'll just search a particular term that's come up in conversation or my own thoughts and see if I can get any insight out of it.

You searched: sugarbunny
MELISSA: hey idk
MELISSA: theyre both cute as heck!!
YOU: I was so set on sugar
YOU: Always wanted to name a dog that lol
YOU: But when I saw him at the rescue and fell in love like that he kept
YOU: Hopping around and barking
YOU: And it was the most adorable thing I've ever seen 😭😭
YOU: And bunny popped into my head it just works too perfectly haha
MELISSA: so i have an idea

Yeah, that's how.

Melissa comes up a lot in these. Ainsley was her maid of honor last year (and thank God I didn't come to the Inn a year earlier) and I've had to fend off a good amount of texts from her since I got here. I'm going to have to see her at some point, she's already wondering why I keep turning down her offers to get lunch. Actually it's kind of amazing I've managed to go this long without having to interact in person with someone who knows Ainsley.

You searched: sara
MELISSA: ssssssssshhhhshshhshshhsh
MELISSA: you can get through this ains
MELISSA: youre unstoppable
MELISSA: need me to come over?
YOU: No that won't work either!!
YOU: I can tell sara's happy that he won't be around constantly anymore
YOU: Might as well give her some more fucking peace and quiet
YOU: I'm already being a total disaster right now and she doesn't need to hear any more of it
YOU: Uuugh and she pisses me off every time I look at her lately
YOU: Even though she hasn't done anything wrong and I feel bad about it
YOU: Stupid weed smell distracting me from my crying

Apparently Ainsley and Sara aren't that close, despite having traveled cross-country together for a vacation. I started to get that impression once I saw how most of their texts are about household stuff. Eventually I dug up a mention that they went to high school together. It surprises me that out of the many girls in The Girls, Ainsley isn't rooming with any of them.

You searched: maine
YOU: Hey cmon I'm just sayin
YOU: Now or never!! Cancellation window for the tickets ends in a few hours
YOU: Come to Maine with me and have some real fun 🤪
SARA: okay. ill do it.
SARA: you have to answer something first though.
YOU: YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY I KNEW YOU COULD DO IT
SARA: be honest. did jaysen mess you up so bad that youd rather be stuck with me for two weeks than be alone?
YOU: I mean
YOU: It's obvious Sara
YOU: I know you could hear me sobbing
SARA: oh i knew the answer i just wanted to hear you say it.

Ainsley originally planned to go to the Inn with this Jaysen guy, but they had an acrimonious breakup a couple of months beforehand. I don't know all details since scrolling through endless texts of clearly overcompensating lovey-dovey talk that spiral into shouting matches is where I draw the line. Seeing "you" attached to all this is bad enough! Yet another reminder that my past is gone. I am the body I've slowly, barely become more comfortable looking at in the mirror. I'm Ainsley Thomas in every way that matters except to a very small number of people. Everything I do, is her.

Of course, by that standard I was only Isaac Strauss to a very small number of people before I went to the Inn, too. Nothing makes you reflect on your life more than having to live someone else's.

You searched: ainsley
YOU: hey can you do me a favor
YOU: i need you to let me know if anyone comes to our door while i'm out
SARA: Ok ❔❔❔
SARA: You gotta tell me why though
SARA: You expecting anyone? Ainsley's ex getting creepy?
YOU: god no
YOU: ainsley's girls are getting increasingly concerned for her well-being and i'm starting to think their talk about an intervention isn't just a joke
YOU: they might camp outside and wait until the dog forces me out and then they drag me to brunch or something where i have to explain why "i'm" being so weird
SARA: HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA XDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXD
SARA: 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣
SARA: Lol
YOU: look can you help me out here
SARA: Tough shit kiddo!!
SARA: I know it's hard on you but you're gonna have to rip off the bandaid 🩹 if you ever wanna go to her job before you get her fired
YOU: ugh i KNEW you'd react like that
YOU: but it was worth a shot anyway
SARA: I've been chilling with Sara's friends and it's not that hard
YOU: sara's friends are too high half the time to notice anything's wrong
SARA: True XD
SARA: But the other half still counts
SARA: You gotta have some confidence, bub
SARA: I've never seen you be confident and I don't know if you know how
SARA: So prove me wrong
SARA: Being cool really isn't that hard
SARA: I was pretty cool back in the day 😎
SARA: I saw Nirvana live did I tell you that?
YOU: i am ending this conversation