Rusty/Monica: What should I call Dad's (potential) boyfriend?

I know that what I'll call this guy if things get serious won't matter for a while, but for some reason I can't stop thinking about it.  Nothing may wind up coming of this date they're on, because she's Dad and not really sure this is a good idea, but this feels a bit different than Katey & Omar, in part because she had to be talked into it. 

And also because the guy hit on me first, although that's mostly because Dad didn't want to come to Annette's little get-together.  There's not a standing thing where all the Inn People who have settled in New York get together like in Boston, but she tries to make sure there's one before the place opens for the season and one after the end, plus this one so that the folks who are coming here for school or the like know there's people who will have their back on a weird situation.  I'm always down to meet new folks like us, although Dad is really trying to focus on being Emilia rather than hanging onto her old life, and Katey and Omar had something else to do, so I went on my own, which meant I didn't really know anybody there.  There were a couple dozen of us, which seemed like a lot to be in one place, but New York City is huge, and I seldom remember how huge until something like this.  Most of them were cool, although the guy who just walked away when he found out I hadn't actually been to college can get bent.   The lady who owns a café in Brooklyn wanted to know why I never got around to selling her energy drinks, but I wound up spending most of my time hanging around with Ryan, who is 24, gay, and funny, especially when he does something dorky and jokes about it being a hangover from spending last summer as a suburban dad. 

I was saying something to him about how great it was to get to know people like this without there being any sort of pressure to pair up when someone tried to hook up.  A good-looking guy, tall, black, mid-twenties or so.  He said his name was "Jonah", or "Junah" if you wanted to get cute, on account of how he used to be a lady named "June".  He'd spent his first few years after visiting the Inn going to college in the city, thought the first girl he dated was The One, which was probably some sort of reaction to how his ex-husband had used the Inn to abandon her, and now she was coming back for grad school once that fell apart, because he really wanted to do something this time around rather than just being a housewife.

He asked about me, but as soon as I got to my age was like "Oh, you're young-young!", then apologized, though I said it wasn't a big deal.  I was in the middle of some story when I remembered I had pictures on my phone.  He had me stop at a beach one, like who's that?, and I snickered, saying it was my Dad.  He nodded and said Dad was hot, and was she seeing anyone?  Ryan jumped in and said I should totally set them up, because it would be a perfect yin-and-yang thing. 

I figured what the heck, had Jonah pose for a picture, and sent it to her, saying he'd like to meet her.  He texted that he wasn't ready to date, and for some reason I said that he might be a good place to start, since he used to be an older woman, so he'd understand when she was nervous and they wouldn't have to pretend. She didn't respond right away, so I had Jonah give me his number, and mostly hung out with Ryan for the rest of the evening. 

A couple days later, though, Dad asked if I still had his number.  Katey was spending Labor Day Weekend with Omar on Cape Cod, which was nice for her but has both of us like, holy shit, this is serious, and with a lot of guys hitting on her in the bar that night, I guess she figured she ought to take matters into her own hands rather than wait for someone to bowl her over like I am, especially since she figures matches that fit this well weren't going to come along that often. 

Katey and I kind of figured Dad would get cold feet by the time they were both free this afternoon, but it seems to be the opposite - they've apparently been texting all week, and while Dad is dressed pretty casual, it's the sort of casual where she spends an hour trying to figure out which pleated miniskirt and babydoll t-shirt look best together and trying every shade of lipstick the original Emilia left her to find one which wasn't too much. 

She apologized for all the fuss, because she still really didn't like doing all this girl stuff, and kind of hated that she was setting an example about being so worried about what some man thinks about your appearance, which is funny, because Katey and I are way ahead of her in girl stuff and haven't had problems with that.

Anyway, at some point Katey made a joke about whether Jonah is going to want us to call him "Mom", and it's really sticking with me.  Like, we appear to be about the same age, but Jonah isn't just Dad's real age, but old enough to be his mother, so our grandmother, and, I dunno, that feels like it deserves a Mister or Grandma or something, right?  Especially when it's just us and we don't have to pretend we were all born within a few years of each other.

I'm definitely overthinking this. I know.  But if Jonah winds up being around more, it's something to think about, right?

-Rusty/Monica

Marc/Ryan: Flashbacks

Summer 2020

Marc Green, a man in his mid-thirties who worries about the slight expansion of his waistline and receding of his hairline, has quit his job as a corporate lawyer, over the protests of his wife Laura. He was spending 80 hours per week going over contracts for a heartless conglomerate and felt the soul being sucked out of him. The timing couldn't have been worse given Laura's ambition to start a business of her own, and the lawyer job provided much-needed stability. Then the pandemic hit and all bets were off, and suddenly every little disagreement between these two becomes magnified in the hothouse of social distancing.

We're going out to see some friends for the first time since the lockdown, and there's a disagreement over what dress she should wear. The truth is I am ambivalent -- women's clothes? What do I know about that? -- but when pressed, I make a ruling. She disagrees, and in fact is annoyed that I describe her choice as "a little cleavage-y," because it insinuates something prudish and patriarchal on my part. At a certain point, I think we're just picking fights over any little thing.

On this occasion, we limp through the evening, and even start to rebuild our dynamic and rediscover why we got together in the first place. After a few drinks, all is forgiven, and at the end of the night, after we've parted ways with our friends, we're making out in the car like a couple of teenagers. Sex becomes our only form of expression, which probably helps keep our relationship afloat through the final two very fraught years of our ten year tenure, a stretch marked by visits to three different couples counselors, one of whom, in 2022, will recommend a getaway. We're on a budget though, so we can't go further than... Maine.

Fall 2023

Chantelle Carey, a pretty, curvy-hipped and quite bosomy green-eyed brunette with the most beautiful, kissable round lips you've ever seen (not that many people kissed them) arrives home from work, goes straight to her room, and removes her pencil skirt and blouse. She pulls down the elastic band of her panties and notes the red mark where it has dug into her skin. "Damnit," she hisses, now examining her soft, fleshy body in the mirror. Gained an inch too many. She sits on her bed, half-naked, running her hands through her thick hair in stress.

It isn't that she's worried about staying thin. She's not thin, and she likes her round figure as it is, even when her thighs rub together as she walks. She's certainly made peace with it. She's come to identify with it. But the idea of it getting bigger, or changing in any way, is troubling to her. After all, she owns hundreds or thousands of dollars worth of clothes that are meant to fit this body. The last thing she wants to do is gain weight (or lose it!) and have to build an entirely new wardrobe. She wants things to stay exactly as they have been since she came into this form in the summer of 2022. Helplessness sets in. Not for the first time, she's trapped in a life she didn't ask for and doesn't know what to do next.

That night, I gathered my -- er, Chantelle's -- younger sister Emma, and niece Keisha, who was staying with me for reasons too personal and complicated to explain, and we went over every item in my wardrobe to figure out what still fit. Only a few items had to go to Goodwill, which was a relief.

By now, Laura was well out of my life, having embraced being Damon wholeheartedly, as though she always was him. I developed a conspiracy theory of sorts to try to explain how we wound up in these lives specifically, which I still think is 90% accurate, even if I couldn't quite finish connecting the dots between Laura and Damon. Ultimately, I was given a fairly sizeable cash "incentive" to basically ensure I will go away and never bother "Damon" again and never allow his wife to find out about his affair with Chantelle. The money remains in a secret account I will be able to draw on no matter what life I am living, as long as I have my faculties. The truth is I didn't have any leverage or intent to do damage, nor did I ask for the money, but we both feel a lot better when I sign the paperwork. It's over, our de facto divorce settlement.

A few months later, Keisha is going back to her mother, and Chantelle and I finally come to terms on a plan for her to return to her own body, much later than we had initially hoped. I am prepared to move forward as someone else, having ceded the life of Marc Green to someone else.

Summer 2024

At a gay club in Brooklyn, a handsome young man named Ryan Berardi -- a personal assistant by profession although he's between jobs -- spots the only guy who seems to look more out of place than him. Ryan's only there because "his friends" wouldn't take no for an answer, and, truth be told, he's been craving human interaction for so long he's willing to go anywhere he seems wanted. But he's not gay -- is he? After all, he is aware that he was a "straight woman" not that long ago, who sometimes harbored hopes for a physical reconciliation with "Damon," and who indulged in flirtation with males from time to time. He's a little ashamed to be "told" he is now a gay man, though, and thinks he must somehow find a way around it. You're only gay when you do something gay -- right? Sexually, he was in limbo... until meeting "John."

He couldn't even understand the appeal on a conscious level. John was older, with gray temples, crow's feet, and lines around his mouth, and aloof. But something about his presence was appealing. Something about his words sparked, maybe just because it was the most intelligent conversation Ryan had had in longer than he could remember, even as they shouted over the noise of the club. And maybe it was because John so clearly wanted him, and he wanted to be wanted, something he hadn't felt in... lifetimes.

At which point they started "doing something gay" with each other.

Lying in bed in the arms of a rough, hairy man, "Ryan" can almost see... not a future, but at least a very enjoyable year ahead. That wasn't so bad, in fact it really hit the spot. But an extremely quick social media search reveals John isn't who he says he is. 

Over the last year, I've chalked it up to everything from hormones and libido, to my own chronic loneliness dating back to my original life, to a rationalization that if it weren't me it would be someone else. I stayed in that affair for my own selfish reasons and for him. Something was clearly aching him inside and I didn't think he would find what he was looking for in his life as it was, so... well, you know the rest. It was a complicated entanglement to say the least, even before we went to the Inn. I feel like I recognized something of myself in him and thought I should do for him what I would have wanted someone to do for me -- get me out of a situation that is simply not tenable. I would come to regret that.

Winter 2025

Around 8 PM on a Saturday night, Ed Levesque is having a cup of decaf coffee at a diner with a woman nearly nearly young enough to be his daughter, and nearly old enough to have given birth to Marc Green. She's relating the customer service experience she recently got from her cell phone provider, and the "old man" is riffing along, perhaps surprising her with his up-to-date knowledge. They're making each other laugh far more than one would have expected.  

As much as I wished I could stop my affair with John, I wished I could start one with Christine. 

As with him, it was a very unlikely attraction -- she looked every bit her age and didn't exactly have a lot of effort to devote to disguising it, but in the body of Ed Levesque, I was beyond caring. Like John, she was someone I enjoyed spending time with for her own sake, someone with whom I had a lot of common ground. Unlike John, she didn't seem to have a dark side or be damaging anyone with her presence, other than Ed's daughter, who, not knowing the source of the money I kept handing out, had a lot of problems with me suddenly getting so friendly with a woman young enough to be... well, younger.

Physically, emotionally, practically, the elements just never came together. I think I'll always feel a little sad about that, but if I haven't learned how to move on from these things by now, it would be surprising. 

A few weeks later, John, in the form of "Cayden" will absolve me of the guilt I feel for bringing him to the Inn, telling me the experience has in some way been good for him. I'm still not entirely sure I've forgiven myself, but what's done is done and, more of a relief, has been largely rectified. He's where he's supposed to be, and I'm on the path I'm on, wherever it may lead.

It's hard to believe I've been all these people in my life, and now I'm on my way to becoming another. I wrote all of the above in transit to Old Orchard Beach but didn't hit publish until I got here. A family issue caused me to delay my arrival and now we're at the end of what is supposed to be my two weeks, and I hope it's clear sailing from here.

I know there are a lot of possible bad outcomes, but unlike other people I have to be here. I have to give Ryan back what's his. I'm hoping for that elusive fresh start, for the day I don't feel haunted by all the people I've been, but in the end, if something terrible happens, it should happen to me, a person ho knows what they're getting into, rather than some unsuspecting innocent. 

I just have to keep moving, accumulating all these memories until I just get full up and find a place to stop.

-Marc/Ryan/Everyone

Marc/Ryan: Pride

When I met Tom, he said something to me that stuck out, that remark about how it seemed like I was trying to get him into a cult just because I advised he get around to the part where he doesn't hate being Kiara as soon as possible.

We are all on our own journeys, of course, and there's no reason you have to enjoy the hand you've been dealt, but in my experience -- and I flatter myself that I have had quite a bit of experience by now -- if there's nothing horrifically wrong with the body and life you've been given, there will usually be something to enjoy about it.

For example, I spent a long time as Chantelle. As someone who was naturally born a man and would have preferred to remain that way, waking up with her body should have been a kind of torture. But I liked it -- and I don't mean having chubby thighs and a fleshy behind or thick hair to worry about. I liked going out in the world as her and seeing how it treated me -- sometimes kinder, sometimes less so, than when I was Marc Green*. In time, being Chantelle was a lot more joy than not, and it was a pleasure to go through the frustrations of day-to-day life as her.

When I belatedly returned that body to its original owner, I became Ryan Berardi for the first time. There was a part of me that would have preferred to stay as a woman than navigate the world as a gay man. I had pretty successfully avoided initiated Chantelle's sexuality -- I was on the lookout for it but it didn't come into practice a lot. My hope was that being Ryan would be much the same, because I think in my head, I was still meant to be a heterosexual man and succumbing to Ryan's personal tastes would be some kind of failure.

Well, I "failed," as you know. I met John, and annoyingly, we hit it off and it activated something in this body, or in me, that pushed me hard. I was struck, last summer, by multiple crises: ethical and identity. The latter took a backseat: focusing on worrying about how to help John navigate his life enabled me to become okay with the way I was living mine/Ryan's.

You know the rest of that story, and I have felt suitably roasted for it, but I need to take you back to my mindset there: John was self-destructing much like Marc Green had. The Inn had offered me a reprieve. At the time I thought, if he wants out of his marriage, I'll show him what that would look like.

Stupid, foolish, immature, short-sighted. I think in my wildest fantasy, we would have become a couple. Something that would give us a chance to live freely for a while and help John determine if he wanted to go back to his old life cede give it to someone who could do something else with it. Like I said, stupid. I don't blame anyone who goes to the Inn for rolling the dice on a return, as Dave did. If you haven't been, I don't think you can be made to understand what an eye-opening experience it is... but pulling someone into that against their will? Never mind the fact that it blew up in my face.

Becoming Ed and Cayden was certainly not what I had in mind, but it served me right and we probably got more out of the experience than if we had been two hot young things in love. John is back where he belongs, meditating on whether to tell his wife it's over or if he is going to claim that his dalliance with men was just a phase. And I gained some perspective from the experience as well.

I'm back in NYC for Pride month, and that has been wild. Last year, I did not feel like I belonged, but now I know that I would belong even if I were not living as a gay man. Ryan has a family that is reasonably supportive and trying to be understanding of his lifestyle, but more than that, he has a found family, a chosen family, that have is back no matter what -- including if he wants to lose his mind and screw-around with fifty-year-old married guys. Likewise, I consider everyone who has been to the Inn an extension of my family, my people, and I only want the best for any of them. I've reached out to Emilia and the girls to say as much, although the timing was not right to join me at the parade.

So yes, I take Pride in that. I think there's a lot of good that comes from this. If you could tell someone exactly what they were going to live through after staying at the Inn, I bet a lot would go willingly, but sadly, that's not how the magic seems to work.

We're all stuck doing our best with whatever random crap life throws at us, whether we've transformed or not.

In a month or so, I will not be Ryan anymore (much to the real Ryan's relief) and I do not know who or what or where I will be. It could be the worst possible thing in the world, and then all my positivity here will blow up in my face, but today I don't regret it, and it's the right thing to do anyway.

-Marc/Ryan

*I'm not sure I can call myself "Marc Green" anymore -- I haven't been him in years and I deliberately passed on the chance to take that life back, but... then who does that make me? There's got to be some name in the field above, so I'm keeping it... for now.

Tom/Kiara: NYC Stopover

Before I left Maine, I collected every scrap of information I could about the Inn -- who could be using it, who has been there, who controls it (if anybody.) I don't know a lot more than you probably do, dear reader, but I'm on track to find out.

While I'd love to get a sense of the bigger picture, my immediate concern is my own body, and the person whose body I'm in. According to the "rules" Kiara would have been in the pod before me. There's no record from that period indicating who-went-where (how convenient) but there is a guestbook, which Kiara did sign, and more importantly, so did the 13 people who stayed there last, one of whom is having their life currently lived by Kiara.

We know a bit about them: Dave/Chris, Shane/Sylvia, John/Cayden and Marc/Ed/Ryan/whomever else. If Ryan is to be believed, the rest of the visitors that week were all female, but none elected to post on the blog or leave a convenient calling card. Find them, and I'm one step closer to finding Kiara.

Marc, then, seemed like my best bet to get any information whatsoever. I got his contact info and made arrangements to see him in New York.

I wish there was more I could do for the people that are here now, but I have to focus on myself.

On my way out, I violated one of the supposed tenets of the Inn. By way of leaving information for the "New Tom" I only left a handwritten note saying "If you didn't want this to happen, I'm sorry. Email me for details" setting up a unique address only the person reading that note would have access to. I then took all of my belongings -- my phone, my laptop, my keys, my credit cards. Sorry, but I'm not playing nice with these people, and if someone innocent needs any of this, they know where to find me. Obviously I left behind my clothes, toothbrush, epi-pen and other essentials... not only am I not a psycho, but it would be nuts to try to carry two persons' worth of luggage with these boney little arms.

Once I got to NYC, I checked into a shabby Motel on Long Island -- I had a feeling my funds were going to start running out so it was best to start saving (as a freelance journalist I'm not exactly Scrooge McDuck with a vault of cash.) I met "Ryan" at a crusty spoon somewhere in Queens, where he was enjoying a chicken pesto panini. I slid into the booth across from him and asked if it was okay to turn on my voice recorder. He agreed.

He was a little tentative in what he could tell me. "People aren't always in a sharing mood at the Inn," he said. "People get guarded. People are afraid. People have agendas. I don't know that anybody I was there with had a history with it, besides the ones we know... but who knows, right?"

We ruled out the other three, of course -- we know a bit about who they are and who is supposed to be in their next bodies. He confirmed that Ed and Cayden are back where they belong, which he said with a snort, "That was a relief -- that's a mixup you don't want to wait a year to fix." I wasn't in a laughing mood exactly.

Then there was the Bride and the Maid of Honor, and the other members of their party. "That's suspicious to me," I noted. "A group of women just happens to end up at this rustic, nothing-happening spot for their bachelorette getaway?"

"On the one hand, people blunder into the inn accidentally all the time," he said, "But if I'm your mysterious enemies, I probably want to limit the unknowns and pull some strings. And we can agree that they probably chose Kiara for you."

"It does feel like it," I noted with a sigh as I contemplated my body, "Putting me anywhere was probably going to keep me off the board, but a teenage mom from Nowheresville, North Carolina? That seems intentional."

"They must have put her somewhere she's not going to talk or reach out to you, but I don't know which of these women fit that profile."

"Were you in law enforcement?" I asked, apropos of the turn this convo was taking.

"Corporate law," he said. "And then Real Estate."

"Interesting pivot," I said.

"That pivot came with a new body," he nodded.

"So you went from being one lawyer to being another lawyer?"

"Don't think that's lost on me," he said. "Moving on... I notice you haven't said much about Kiara's family."

"Yeah, well," I gave a pained sigh, "It's easier to focus on this. I've made contact. The baby's being taken care of, that's all that matters."

We discussed what we knew further, I picked at his kettle chips, it was altogether a fine way to spend an afternoon if you have to be investigating a missing person whose body you're in. He said he would try to help any way he could, but that the next time he goes to the Inn it will be a bit far down the chain to encounter the new Tom directly, and who knows where he goes from there.

Toward the end of the conversation, I asked if he had any tips for a first-timer, as someone who has seemingly been all-over the spectrum of experiences.

"Well," he said with a self-effacing grin, "If and when you return to the Inn, don't bring any first-timers yourself. You don't want that on your conscience, no matter what they say later."

"Stands to reason," I said.

"Other than that... be open to it. You've got youth and energy, and yes some responsibilities on your plate... but managing all that is where life happens anyway. Don't sit in a room and cry about it for a year. Get out there and taste the fruits of life. Embrace it for what it is, whether you can get your body back or not."

"From how positive you seem, it kind of sounds like you're trying to get me to join a cult," I quipped.

He chuckled, "If I were trying to get you to join a cult, you wouldn't think that until it was way too late. That's what makes them cults." He leaned forward and took a big sip from his milkshake. "That's gonna be a few sit-ups but so worth it."

Reflexively, I looked down toward my own soft belly -- and saw only the bird's eye view of breasts jutting out from my v-neck. No workouts to get rid of these. I absent-mindedly placed a hand on one as the soreness set in. When I realized later, I thought how polite of Ryan not to mention I was publicly groping myself... if he noticed.

I went back to the hotel, listened back to the conversation, and pumped while I wrote some notes... including this:

"Ryan gave off good vibes, as they say -- friendly, nonthreatening, a real change-up from the encounters I've had since this thing began, which was refreshing. I happened to notice he's a good-looking guy. I can say that, right? It's objectively true with his facial features and physique. I might have thought the same thing in my own body, just as a matter of observation. Let's not unpack this any further because there are about twelve layers of wrongness to it."

More to come,

-Tom/Kiara

Marc/Ryan: Parting Ways

I won't keep you in suspense. Yes, John and I are both "back where we belong," as it were. As Dave indicates in his post, it happened the night after I last posted. I awoke feeling lighter and less achey than I had since last fall.

Once we got through the astonishment that our crazy plan worked and I did not end up in John's body and vice versa, or some more chaotic third option, he and I took a moment to breathe. 

Early in the morning, I could hear some frantic chatter in the halls. Someone knocked on our door, I answered and saw a panicked-looking woman. After dressing in the clothes my past-self had left back in September, I agreed to address the group, explaining what I could about the Inn's curse and the added wrinkle that all of these people's "lives" had been on hold since September. Six of the people who had come were on a bachelorette getaway, and then there was a trio of other returners who also succeeded in reclaiming their bodies (or at the very least, seemed okay with the results.) Tallying things up, I realized that not a single person from this group went from male to female, which I think is an interesting stat. 

I handed out some contact information where -- assuming I have access to technology -- I can be reached in any identity, as well as highlighted this blog as a resource. I made sure to indicate that this was not forever, and while returning to your original life took some effort, it was very doable and seems to happen often enough.

John said little, but after we retired to our rooms, he expressed admiration for my poise. I reminded him I've done my fair share of public speaking.

A moment later, another forceful knock on the door. It was the bride-to-be, who was obviously taking things very harshly. She had become a very fetching woman. Her maid of honor was in tow to try to console her. She had become the woman's husband, a burly, bearded fellow who looks like he either works construction or tends bar at a hipster joint, and I was jolted by how quickly my Ryan-ness had asserted itself when I found myself admiring "his" looks more than the bride/wife. Over time, we were able to talk the bride down, but I tried to let her have space to feel her feelings. John, for the most part, sat in the corner scrolling through his phone, seemingly taking stock of what he was going back to (occasionally murmuring a displeased "oh, dear.")

After the initial chaos died down, the Bachelorette girls circled up together, and the family of three sorted their business out, and I felt ready to leave. John and I shared a ride down to New York. He was a little guarded -- when I asked him how he felt about going back to Mary, he only said "we'll see what we see," with a noncommittal shrug. He asked me why I didn't go back to being myself, and I sort of told him there was baggage there I simply didn't feel like I could face, which only partly concerns my ex-wife.

"Okay, before we go, I've got to know... what did you really look like?"

I showed him a picture of my old self, and he gave a very neutral nod, which to be fair is all my original life merits. Then I showed him a picture of Chantelle.

"She's quite pretty. I'll bet you had a good time once you got used to it."

I smiled self-effacingly. "I have some good memories and some bad memories. Less about the body, more about the life. As a man, you think, I could never enjoy being a woman, but... well, you'd be surprised. Surprised the most by how little it matters compared to other things."

John nodded, as though this provoked some thought in him -- and why wouldn't it? I sometimes forget, I have experienced something very strange and interesting.

"It's very surreal to me to know that I never really met Ryan," he said as we neared the city. "To know that the face you're wearing right now is someone else's. I have a lot of feelings about that and it's going to take a long time to resolve them." He had this strange smirk, a glint in his eye that I kind of liked -- because it seemed to indicate that, no matter how unethical and wrong my choice to bring him to the Inn was, it seems to have sparked something in him that he needed.

Or maybe I'm just projecting.

We parted ways with a friendly, chaste hug. I felt this weird compulsion to say "Don't be a stranger," which made us both laugh because it's probably best if we become strangers from here on out.

After that, I landed at Ryan's friend's apartment -- I had made arrangements for his return from "Florida" after letting his lease lapse during my absence (all his stuff is in storage, something I accomplished as sort of a weekend project when I was Ed... which was way more grueling than I thought it would be, but worthwhile) and took a shower.

Two months until I return and find out what the next next part of my life looks like.

-Marc/Currently Ryan

Marc/Ryan/?: ...I'm tired and I want to go to bed...

"I took a risk, I took a risk, I took a risk..." I chant to myself during a private moment of examining my face in the mirror. I had figured the odds were in favor of John and I ending up in some lives that were perfectly livable while we worked to figure out how to proceed. In actuality, it's more evidence in favor of the fact that I should not be permitted to make decisions for my own life.

I wouldn't even say it was a particularly good vacation. I've certainly had better. The weather was agreeable but summer heat is over. John was very keen to cuddle at night, taking advantage of the fact that we were far away from anyone who knows him, but I was a little iffy on taking things further physically because, who knows what that might lead to if we transform mid-act (which I have some experience with.) That turned out to be a correct instinct, one of very few.

So the whole thing felt like a business trip and John was worried that I was upset with him. I tried to reassure him that wasn't the case, without actually explaining what was on my mind.

Despite the decreased intimacy, the trip gave us a chance to spend some real time together, browsing shops and going out to eat as if we were actually a, gasp, couple. I didn't say much about myself because I haven't been "Ryan" for too long, but John filled the silences, seemingly having waited a lifetime to unburden himself like this. There were times when I was really happy to see the real John at play. Something about seeing someone attempt to be comfortable in his own skin, combined with the predisposition toward men I had inherited, really made my heart beat, which was something I felt like I needed to put a pin in and unpack later, depending on how everything shook out. We did have some sex during daylight hours, since what little I understand about the Inn's magic, it appears to be a nocturnal thing.

I pointedly said we should not look at the mysterious baggage found in the closet, ostensibly out of respect but really because, well, I didn't want to deal with it.

I spent as much time as possible avoiding answering the question of: what do I actually tell him when it happens? Years of law practice gave me what I think is a pretty strong poker face, but it wouldn't be too hard to put two and two together when you consider how actively I worked to put this trip together.

When I woke up yesterday morning, I could tell almost immediately that the change had happened overnight. I knew some of what was different about m physical form but lying still in bed, I remained frozen as long as I could. Time was up on deciding how to play it. It felt like there was nobody in bed at all beside me. I would need to investigate further to determine what that meant: had John gotten up and left in the night? Surely if he knew he had transformed, he would have woken me up, no? 

The room was dim. The sun hadn't broken in yet. I reached over to my phone. It was not even 5 AM.

Gingerly, I pushed myself up. I felt heavy. Slow creep to the bathroom. Light. Mirror. Oh, no.

Looking back at me was the rather saggy and jowly face whose name I soon learned was Ed Levesque -- Grandpa Ed to some. I smacked my forehead. Dolt. Everyone assumes they'll become some pretty young thing or an affluent middle-aged person. I guess all walks of life find themselves at the Inn, naturally.

I went back to the bed, cautiously. There was lying a young boy of about 10. Little "Cayden," aka John. He had not yet woken up, at least not until I sat back down on the creaky mattress.

"What's going on?" he asked in his little voice. "Who are you?"

"John," I said in something of a wheeze, "Something's happened. Something very strange."

It's a bit of a blur, how I managed to mumble an explanation and let him see for himself. The word "No" was said and shouted a variety of times in his little voice. Well, I say little as in young, but he could really holler.

Finally came the part I had been dreading. In a cold, soft tone, "Did you... know this would happen?"

I sighed and dropped all pretense of lying to him. "I knew something would. Not this specifically. I just knew how badly you were hurting and needed to... to get out of your life. You said so yourself."

He cursed me out with all the fortitude of the grown man he really is: "You bastard! You rat bastard! What did you do to me? What did you do to me??!"

I certainly didn't expect it to do well, but I steeled myself and tried to draw on some of my past experience being in rooms with people who hated my guts. I could navigate this. I explained rationally that we could go back, but not until the Inn re-opened next year.

If you've never had a ten-year-old boy tell you "I never want to see your fucking face again," well, it's certainly an experience. Unfortunately, it seems like we're somewhat tied together, what with me being the lad's grandfather and all.

It's going to be some year.

-Marc/Ed

Marc/Chantelle/?: Show me the way to go home

I don't know how long the memories of people who read this blog are, so let me re-introduce myself. I was born Marc Green, but for the last 2.5 years I've been better known as Chantelle Carey. I was deposited in the life of this Albany Real Estate Lawyer after an ill-fated trip to Maine with my wife in the spring of 2022. It's hard to believe how long and yet how quickly time has passed.

When I last wrote here I was just getting into the swing of things, becoming marginally more comfortable in my new skin, socializing with my co-workers and trying to enjoy my relatively low-pressure job, a big switch for me because in my past life I had been a more high-powered corporate attorney. Laura and I were also trying to navigate what the transformation meant for us -- our relationship was on its last legs in our original lives, but maybe we could rediscover each other in the new situation. I was even willing to give it a try, even given our new gender dynamic, with the hitch that he was now a married man.

It was all fun and games for a while, but reality bit us. I had to cope with an unexpected personal situation in Chantelle's life that meant I honestly didn't have a lot of time for an affair (or blogging about myself.) In the end "Damon" decided that it was easier and better to pursue his new wife, using the logic that since the original Damon was a philanderer, taking on his role as husband on a permanent basis was a victimless crime. That's, erm, debatable from my perspective, and I used to argue for a living.

Because of my personal situation, I was unable to return to the Inn last year, and what's more, because of lingering bad feelings about everything I had left behind -- Laura, my smoldering crater of a career, et cetera -- I let the people who landed in our lives simply have them, which is the last you heard of me. From what I understand they are doing well, but you would have to ask them directly.

The time since then has been a haze, which out of respect to the parties involved I won't go into detail about, but it's calmer now. As good as this situation has been to me (on balance) I did always want to let Chantelle retake her life. The Careys are extremely close-knit, which was never comfortable for me and must have really messed Chantelle up to be away from, especially with the family issues I had to navigate.

And that's why I came back to the Inn...... three months ago.

I didn't care who I became, man, woman or child. I had to do my good deed and give Chantelle a chance to regain what was rightfully hers. (And by now, she is safely back where she belongs.)

After waiting around all weekend for the Inn to fill up, it happened on a Tuesday night (really, a Tuesday??) In the late/early hours, I felt my breasts stiffen into pecs, my hips straighten and narrow, and watched a male sex manifest itself between my legs.

I left the Inn that week as Ryan Berardi, a 24-year-old from Queens, NY. I certainly wasn't mad about being so young or male after years of femininity. But it's not like I would be going back to a life that looked a lot like my original existence. Ryan is young, single, active, and gay.

I spent my time as Chantelle kind of fumbling with the keys to the door of my sex life without every fully getting it open. I had a tryst with Laura-as-Damon, and him being male certainly wasn't a turn off, but I didn't fully understand whether I liked guys or whether I liked my (ex-)wife in a new body. If I had thoughts, they did turn out to mostly be about guys, with a sort of intrigued curiosity attached, but there was never much impulse to pursue. I didn't know if that was a Chantelle thing or a Marc thing or a "life's got me down" thing.

I sort of assumed the same would be the case as Ryan: you just don't do anything if you're not comfortable with it. But suddenly as Ryan, I was different. I had energy, I had time on my hands, I had drive that I hadn't known since... well, since I was a 24-year-old man.

Most of Ryan's friends were gay men, and being around them had an undeniable physiological effect on me. It was not that dissimilar to if I had found myself, back in college, in a room full of available women. There's someone in here that's having this effect on me. I may have been self-conscious about my new role, but these guys were easy to talk to and fun to be around in my new physical state.

In the end, though, I didn't end up doing anything with Ryan's friends. They were just sort of the key that made me feel okay about pursuing whatever it was that I wanted. I had been an ostensibly straight woman, for crying out loud, what was wrong with spending some time as an actively gay man?

That brought me to someone I will refer to as John.

John was older, and had had some experimentation in his youth but was now back in the closet, or identifying as bisexual (I'm not here to proclaim anybody's specific orientation for them. He should know.) He was married with grown kids and I guess was going through a sort of midlife crisis about never having gotten to explore his sexuality the way he wanted. I allowed myself to become his sort of secret fling because it felt like... better me than someone else. Things developed very rapidly and very intensely over the summer as we got to know each other not just on a primal, physical level, but a personal one. I felt for this guy, I saw a lot of myself in him.

He had such a sadness. Like he couldn't bring himself to leave his wife and disrupt his family dynamic and be the person he wanted to be, and yet anytime I broached the topic of calling "us" off, he would insist that no, I was the best thing in his life. He seemed stuck between two worlds, and he ached about it.

In a normal situation, the sensible thing to do would probably have been for me to walk away and wish him luck in sorting himself out, but I knew something he didn't, that there was a way out when you feel stuck in a role. Think about it: if I break up with him, he's just going to repeat the pattern with someone else and end up hurting more people.

After sex is when he usually becomes reflective and starts moping about how he wishes he could feel this way all the time. At one point in August, I asked him if things were really so bad in his life, and he said yes -- similar to the way things were that bad for me as Marc, I gathered. I asked him what he would do if he could give all his problems to someone else and instead take on the problems of another random person.

"Well," he began to contemplate this 'thought experiment,' "That depends on what you mean. I know I have it better than some citizen of the war-torn middle east, if that's what you're talking about."

I clarified that was not what I was talking about. "An American, probably, someone with a life not totally unlike yours... any age, any gender, from any city or small town... maybe they have a family that doesn't love them, maybe they have money issues, maybe they don't even have any problem bigger than what to do on a Saturday night. Would you push the button, roll the dice, and take on that person's burden instead of your own? You would not have to clear things up with your wife, you might not even feel attraction to me anymore, you would be... in effect... a different person. But you have no control over who that person is. And someone else would have your problems."

I was hoping he would say no, do the sensible thing and feel inspired to appreciate what he had and go back and sort things out in his life, but depression and anxiety are absolute beasts.

"I think I have it worse than the average person," he said thoughtfully. I don't personally agree, but I think from the outside people would have said that Marc Green had it all, so who am I to argue?

"So you think, based on the odds, you would prefer..." I paused. The more clearly I defined the 'experiment' the more obvious it would become that I was leading him.

Before I could rephrase, he kissed me. "Ryan, honey, if you're saying you want to run away together and start fresh... I would love to... I would want nothing more... but there's no way I could. I'm stuck."

Stuck. God, did that word trigger me. Because that was how I felt when I quit my job as a lawyer the first time. And doing what I did to get away only made me feel more stuck. It was only going to the Inn that got me "unstuck." And on balance, I feel it was good for me... and the odds were, I was probably going to go again.

"Maybe not run away forever," I said with a sigh, "But how about a week or two?"

I did the mental math on the ethics. Somebody has to go to the Inn. It's going to happen. Is it not better that it be done under controlled circumstances? Is it wrong to go -- and bring a first-timer -- knowing what is going to happen? Or is it better?

For all the talk of the dangers of "rolling the dice," let's not forget... as shabby as the Inn itself is, who goes on a vacation to Maine besides people who are at least marginally comfortable in their lives? What is the absolute worst possible outcome? I feel strongly that almost anybody who would be in Maine at the Inn would have a life worth living. If you are so determined not to be yourself anymore, what right do you have to get choosy about whether you're a teenage girl or a pot-bellied uncle?

Again -- these lives are going to somebody. Right? I rest my case.

I called the reservation line. They were booked up through end of summer, of course. Well that's that, I thought, and better for it. Out of the question. I will have to simply go through the winter and not think about it, and meanwhile I will have to ensure John does not destroy himself.

Then I got a call the next week. It kind of sounded like a robot voice, or maybe just a very, very formal person.

Cancellation. Room for two now available. Deep discount price, must be filled. Sept 16-29, the final reservation pod of the year.

John was overjoyed at my thoughtfulness and immediately made arrangements. He told his wife he would be going on a hiking retreat, which is something he knew she would not be interested in.

Once we had locked in, I practically broke down in tears. Oh God, what am I doing?

Well it's too late now. We arrived yesterday afternoon. 

Jenn/Zack: What's next

If it's been quiet around here, it's not because we haven't been busy. We have to be, since even in Jersey, rent isn't cheap. I have been busting my ass to get referrals for my mediocre photography, which has gotten off the ground thanks to Alexa -- having an absolutely gorgeous woman linking you in her Insta posts really does a lot for your profile.

In celebration, Alexa and Ryan invited me and "April" out to dinner at a restaurant Ryan knew - a real up and coming hipster place. Pete didn't want to go, knowing how crappy Ryan had been and that he still hadn't been caught, but I was insistent. I didn't want to feel like a third wheel, and I still have trouble relating to guys as guys - in mixed company they're not so bad but if I have to have a one-on-one conversation with Ryan it's likely he'll say something that turns my stomach.

Plus, there were certain thoughts that I wanted to avoid having when Alexa is around.

Honestly, it's been hard to process, because when I'm around her, my hormones go off like a neon sign saying "YOU ARE ATTRACTED TO THIS!" But I get a churning feeling in my gut because I'm not a guy and if I'm lucky I won't be much longer so there would be no point in pursuing someone like her. Or anyone. Plus, she's with Ryan, even though he doesn't deserve her. And when I see them together it just pains me.

I had hoped that being "in character" with April would distract me enough, but really, compounding a secret with a lie just turns out to quadruple the negative feelings. I was constantly wondering what my body language was saying, if I was staring too long at Alexa, not looking over at April enough., if I was "passing" as male with Ryan, while simultaneously feeling the urge to fight him.

Ryan asked n innocent question about our relationship, April and Me - asking about how the last time he heard about me, I was dating that older woman. I tried to wave it off as jut a fling (and not let on that it involved a serious heartbreak) and that April, who in cover story I was with for years, was my true love. But it was hard to say those things and mean it.

Pete looked lovely, taking the opportunity to make himself very pretty and sophisticated, wearing beautiful earrings and a silvery, low-cut dress that he said was the nicest thing April owned and that he didn't think he'd get a chance to wear... any guy would be lucky to have a woman like that on his arm. I wished I could have appreciated it but I was far too distracted.

Pete deserved to be congratulated too. He had found a new job in short order, unsurprising based on April's resume and his own capabilities. It's a short-term contract too, which always sounds like such a ripoff but works out perfectly since it ends just as we are supposed to be going to the Inn this summer.

After we parted ways it was a long ride out of the city. Now it was Pete's turn to seem distant and distracted. I asked what was wrong.

"Well, I'm a little let down," he sighed. "I shouldn't be surprised, and I'm not taking it personally or anything, but... I kind  of thought this would work."

"What would?"

"This," he said, gesturing to his body, his dress, his hair and makeup. "Its... a lot, don't you think? Put a lot of work in here. I know I can't compete with Alexa - hell, if I was still on the guy side of the equation I'd be eyeing her all night the way you were. But I thought maybe I could draw some of that attention for myself."

He sighed. "It's stupid. I feel like an idiot for... thinking... anything, I guess. It's been a long time since I liked anyone as much as I like you, Jenn. I'm a romantic at heart, but just like you, I care too much to trick anyone into being with me while I look like someone else. The only shot at happiness either of us has is with someone like us."

I was shocked. We've been getting along well as "housemates" and really enjoying each other's company... I guess I just thought that was where it ended. But I appreciated that he was being open and honest with me.

I'd be lying if I said the thought hadn't crossed my mind. We're two people of compatible sexes sharing a space. I've seen "April" in all but the fullest state of undress, gotten familiar with his habits and quirks, shared jokes. It has been a little bit like a relationship - the settled, later parts. It's just that, after years with David, maybe I was hoping to be swept off my feet again. Or sweep someone off their feet.

I took my time in crafting my response as a long silence fell between us. "I just think..." I said, treading lightly to be sure if this really was what I thought, "If we're only... you know... together... because that's the easiest, or only option... is that healthy? Don't we deserve better?"

He smiled - oh, wow, how that smile lights up a room, if I'm being honest - "This has been a hreat month for me, Jenn. What could possibly be better than this?"

He touched my hand. Those soft little fingers on my rough ones.

I felt warmth inside me.

My heart started beating faster.

I wanted to kiss her right there and then.

Why... why not?

I leaned over and pressed my lips to hers. I hadn't kissed anyone in a little while, and I haven't kissed anyone new in a long while - I mean, technically, when I kissed David as Lena for the first time that was someone new, but this was something else.

I can't deny it was better. Whether because, on a shallow level, I'm more attracted to April than I was to Lena (who had beauty, but you know, the age thing and being my first "woman",) or because I was just so excited for someone to be thinking of me that way again... it was long, and hungry and passionate before we knew it.

We made out all night, and when we weren't making out we were talking like old friends, unburdening ourselves in ways we hadn't yet in all the weeks we'd been living together. I didn't know if it would just end up being one night of passion, or something more, but my eyes felt opened for the first time.

"So, does this mean," I asked around 3 AM, "I can start sleeping in the bed?"

She flashed pink-red: "Let's just take it one step at a time, okay? We have months."

Fair enough, I said...

We did fall asleep in each other's arms, though, sitting upright in a position that felt comfortable at first but left me sore in the morning.

I had left my phone in the other room. When I checked it in the morning, there was a long text from Alexa.

There was a bit of preamble, but essentially it was saying how she's never had a guyfriend like me before, and there she's starting to wonder if there's something there - a better connection than she has with Ryan. She says, she hates herself for thinking it but maybe I feel the same way and that's why I seem so indifferent about April.

She said she was sorry for putting it out there if I didn't feel the same way, but she couldn't get it out of her head.

My heart sank at that... talk about terrible timing.

-Confused Jenn

Tyler/Valerie: On the Dotted Line

I don't exactly know how it happened, but somewhere along the way I started actually having a life.

Somewhere among all the 6 AM girltalks with Alexa, sassing Rafe at work, and hunting for apartments with Maddie, I started thinking to myself, I actually like things about this life. I'm starting to take a little bit more ownership of it, beyond just choosing a new place to live: I got my hair cut to a shoulder length wavy Kristen Bell look that I much prefer over the fairy tale princess halfway-down-my-back style I had maintained from Valerie. I started buying more clothes for myself, and not just for functional purposes but because I think they might look good on me. And I'm seeing less and less reasons not to give in to Maddie's insistence that we start some kind of business together.

It gives me a bit of pause because if we're living together and invested in a business, that could easily be too much of each other. But it's my best option to make something of myself right now. I just had to hope before I committed to anything that I didn't end up getting sick of her - I warned her I can be a bit of a house-mother and it's not a role I love.

So we went out and we found someplace that looks good, only we need a third roommate to cover costs. Nobody else we know seems to be looking. All seemed hopeless, until Maddie gave a wincing "Welllll, there is one option..."

Her sister, she explains, is looking to move back to New York after living in Asheville, NC for a while. Getting her to admit this was like pulling a tooth. "We're twins, but she's not really like me... she's a bit wild, impulsive."

"Listen, if you vouch for her, I'm sure she's fine."

Maddie nodded in a way that seemed to say "What choice do I have?"

Charli, Maddie's sister, agreed to the place sight unseen. It was all such a whirlwind because we need to move in on the 1st of November since I already gave Ryan my notice and time was running out when we found this place.

He played dumb as to why I might want to leave, and I generalized that this was no longer the right environment for me, as if it ever was. I thanked him and Alexa for the break they got me on the rent but I'm doing okay now. And I really don't know if I can spend another moment pretending he and I did not have sex behind Alexa's back while I thought they were breaking up, because I gave in to that little crush I had.

Alexa said she was sad to see me go and leave her as the only girl in the house. I said we could hang out anytime, and even though she should hate my guts (if she ever finds out, and doubly so  because I kept it from her) I hope she knows I meant it.

"One other thing," I said to Maddie as we were preparing to sign on the dotted line, "If worst comes to worst and I... give in to temptation and invite Rafe over now and again, you won't judge me, will you?"

She managed a sympathetic smirk. "I would never! Not out loud anyway."

I smiled. "Good friend."

"You said he was good, right?"

"I... very reluctantly admitted he has some talent, yes." Embarrassingly, I will admit to you here that "good" doesn't really cover it.

"Well, every girl has needs. But if you get too carried away - remember, he's totally not boyfriend material - I won't hesitate to smack some sense into you."

"By all means."

"I love you too much not to."

That last bit gave me pause. I'm still getting used to the way women throw around words of affection with each other. It's hard not to feel like my old heterosexual male self is being teased out a little bit hearing it even thought I know that's not what she means.

Off to pack!

-Tyler/Valerie

Tyler/Valerie: How did I let this happen?

So, I'm still living with Ryan and the guys while I wait for Maddie to get out of her lease. Life, on the whole, is miserable and unfulfilling, and every day I question the wisdom of staying here - especially if this is what I've let become of me.

There has been one unexpected bright spot, which is a little bittersweet. See, I've made a new friend.

One morning, I just couldn't sleep. The guys were being loud and I've gotten so tired of being the "bad guy," the "house mom" trying to keep them quiet and well-behaved that I just let them go and suffered. Surely this must be some kind of female rite of passage, minimizing your own needs because it's too much trouble and you worry about sounding like a nag.

Eventually, they quieted down, but I was stricken by insomnia for the rest of the night. I stayed up reading from probably 3 until 5 AM, at which point I realized I was working at 6:30 and it was time to start getting ready.

So I got up, got in the shower and went to the kitchen to make myself breakfast while I dried off. I was halfway dressed, standing in my jeans and bra when I got caught up reading about the Kavanaugh hearings.

Then all of a sudden, in walks Alexa, just coming in from a morning run.

"Hey," she says, noticing I'm transfixed on my tablet, "What are you reading about?"

For a half a second I felt embarrassed - I'm there in my bra, my tits virtually fully out there - but then I realize she doesn't care, and I don't care, and we start talking. I started to summarize the article for her. And before I know it, I'm really more weirded out that I'm having an adult conversation with Alexa, a girl I honestly didn't think I could stand.

From there, we started bumping into each other more and more and exchanging pleasantries and everything and even having running text conversations. And along the way I realized that maybe I only disliked her because I prejudged her based on her appearance, or because I saw her as competition for Ryan. Now I dislike Ryan (secretly) but Alexa has actually done nothing wrong to me. And I'm realizing she's pretty ok.

Then I realized... I've wronged her.

I mean, I slept with her boyfriend. I thought they were breaking up, but I seriously could have used more discretion. (It's also no excuse that I thought I was getting a new body soon after.) I'm content to lay that at the feet of Ryan since before, I had no personal relationship with Alexa and I was duped, and she is being duped. but now we're all buddy-buddy and every second I don't come clean to her I actually am doing something wrong.

We had this really great conversation the other day sort of clearing the air - at least as far as she knew - about her theory that of why I was really standoffish toward her, how "I" was Ryan's old friend and protective of him and she was the new girl. How she thought I was cool and wished we could become better friends, but it never seemed like a good time to strike up a one-on-one conversation. And now here we are, several mornings per week having coffee together at 6 AM!

It's nice - honestly at this point I really crave female friendship because I love that they don't stare at my chest while we talk (well, some do) - but it feels so tainted and wrong and honestly I deserve to be whupped over this one. This is the kind of shit that always makes me want to run away, only I can't this time.

Dang, y'all.

-Val

Tyler/Valerie: Not settling

I spent the rest of the summer, after donating Cynthia's body and life to the original Valerie, just kind of sitting with my decision. I didn't have any plans or ideas about what to do with myself now that I knew who I was going to be for the rest of my life. I hadn't thought that far. I just knew it was the right thing to do, even if it wasn't necessarily what I wanted.

Basically I've been living half a life, even less than when I thought I was going back to the inn. I got up in the morning, got dressed and did my hair, and served coffee. I spoke as little as I could with my roommates. I went to Vermont a few times to see Meg - who was very understanding about my choice how to move forward as Val, maybe a little too much so. Years later I think what she liked about me was that when we got to know each other I was like a "little sister," so me being female works for her. (She doesn't like this interpretation but this is my post, hah.) We're still friends, and working on being closer than ever now that the door to us being together is truly closed.

All year I've kind of been writing on this clean slate that I got after Josh left Valerie for his ex. I had my fling with Rafe, and then my unfortunate encounter with Ryan that left me feeling really terrible, since he played me and went back with Alexa, and brought up all these issues that have been in me since the wedding. It's hard not to be bitter about how that went down. He and Alexa spent the rest of the summer in California and we didn't talk.

I've been avoiding all my problems by working a lot, both at the coffee shop and as an increasingly clutch waitress at the caterer. At home I've just been tiptoeing around the apartment, trying to be seen and heard as little as possible, and working up the nerve to make a change. I never used to doubt myself when I was male - if I didn't like a situation I would pack up and leave without hesitation, but I can't muster that energy so easily as a woman. That bothers me.

I am pleased to say that after being a magnet for it, I haven't indulged much male drama since re-upping as Val. I have a whole life ahead of me so I'm not in a rush to meet someone new, and I may even end up as a spinster... although it would be a waste of my youth, looks, and all the time I spent getting comfortable with enjoying sex as a woman. I just don't have a burning need for it right now.

Looking back I'm a little embarrassed by how the first six months of this year went down. I blame Josh. About a year ago he did some voodoo to me that made me realize I could fall in love with a guy if I let myself open up to it, and after he dropped the bomb, it left me very unresolved and needy. But hey, Tyler Blake has always been in love with love, too.

Rafe and I are actually talking again, after a long awkward summer. I think he understands why I ended it...mind you, a lot of that was spurred on by the idea that I was going back to the Inn. But the official story, which is the true story no matter what, is that I was not really happy just being a sexual object for him and getting nothing back (besides some consistently good sex.) I think I can have it all, I think it's out there for me, I just need to be patient and find it and not settle.

I mean, I settled for being Valerie, but that doesn't mean I have to settle in other ways. I can move, quit my job, date whomever I want... the future's wide open.

But about Rafe: it's good to have him as a friend again, to joke around and flirt innocently. He'll see me standing on a milk crate to reach something high up in storage, and instead of offering to reach it for me, he'll admonish me for being too proud to ask, then try to tickle my midsection while my shirt is riding up. (Sue me, I like the attention so I egg him on a little bit.) He says he's seeing someone, but it's not serious, which I think is his way of hinting that he would get back with me if I wanted it... but I think if he's happy and she's happy, that's great. I don't miss him.

I do miss my friendship with Ryan, but that will never be back. He's asked me to sing some more with him, and my response is always a polite no, with the secret meaning of "You son of a bitch."

Pete and I have spent surprisingly little time together - April actually lives in Jersey, and she works in Manhattan, so it's kind of the opposite way to get to Brooklyn, but we've texted a fair bit and she really wants to do a big catch-up in person.

Maddie and I have talked about moving in together when her lease is up in October, and she won't let this "We have to start a business" idea die. And now that I have all this time on my hands, this  whole future ahead to define my Val-ness, it's starting to sound appealing. I still occasionally think how cute and sweet she is, and it's the one thing in me that still feels male -- I feel like I really missed the boat by settling for being her friend.

Then I get home, hole up in my room, take my bra off, and study makeup tips on YouTube and think, wow... I really am a fuckin' girl.

Nothing to be ashamed of.

-A girl named Tyler (Or Valerie)

Tyler/Valerie: Waiting my turn

I felt good for about a minute after Ryan's and my tryst, but the morning after was extremely rough.

As pleasurable and cathartic as it had been to act on the feelings that had been bubbling inside me since I first laid eyes on the guy, it was extremely tainted knowing that I was going to be leaving Val's life soon, and that bogging her down with more drama was specifically what I didn't want to do.

The feeling seemed mutual, as he was unable to even look me in the eye the next morning. It was then that I realized that as much as it felt like things were over between him and Alexa, they actually weren't yet. He finally admitted later that day, "We were texting today... she wants me to go out to California, and I'm going to."

"Yeah," I said sheepishly, "You should."

It was a tough situation. I couldn't not be hurt, but I had no claim over this guy, no right to mess around with him. This was the closest thing to making good on it that I could offer - to pretend it had never happened.

He went. We've hardly texted.

After that, I set about trying to execute Cynthia's plan.

Originally, she had eyed the end of summer for her trip to the Inn, meaning I would visit in the "last" spot, the one where the body I leave behind is basically nowhere for the better part of a year. I can hardly reckon with the implications of that, nor with the logistics of having to visit that Inn and get my body messed with twice in a year, at least once with unknown results. Scary, but, that's kind of how I do things... leap before I look.

But we had a chunk of reservations at the Inn at our disposal. Not impossible to move things around. I got in touch with Val to see if she would be okay with us shuffling things around.

"You're really going for it, huh?" she asked over coffee. "Taking the deal?"

"What choice do I have?" I shrugged, "I'm a person without a body, and this is the only offer on the table. And it's a pretty good offer."

"I'll say," she said, some kind of envy in her voice. "You just don't seem happy about it."

"Well yeah," I said, "This isn't who I envisioned ending up being, but no matter what I hoped for it's not likely to be as good as this. I just... don't like being backed into it. Feeling like I have no other options."

"No," she said coldly, "I guess not."

I took a breath. "Val, I'm extremely sorry for everything that's happened to your life this year. With Josh, and... well, I just want you to know I did the best I could under the circumstances."

She muttered something to the effect of not holding me responsible for her ex's actions - at one point it felt like she did.

By now, Cynthia will be waiting to turn into her erstwhile husband. He got the body that would have been mine, whatever that may have been. Then it's my turn, and the rest of my life begins as a beautiful blonde mother of three in the suburbs.

Here goes,

-Tyler, Valerie

Tyler/Valerie: Going Away Present

This is all my fault. I was weak and stupid. And something about knowing you're going back to the Inn soon makes you wsnt to get your last licks in, you know, in case of the worst.

This post is coming to you from Ryan's bed, where I have chosen to spend the night rather than gathering up my bra and panties and going back to my room. He's sound asleep and I am stealthily writing this on my phone, so excuse any typos please...

Okay, hear me out. Ryan never made it a secret he was pining for me, or Val that is. But with Alexa in the picture I knew I had a buffer. He wasn't the type of guy to stray and I wasn't that type of girl. They were really quite cute together so as much as I was attracted to him I had no desire to break that up. Besides, we're near the end of my term as Val. There was no point in playing with fire, and I had Rafe to play with.

Then I (maybe foolishly?) ended things with Rafe early to spare Val some drama. But with my future somewhat in doubt as I considered Cynthia's offer, I got very very... Lonely.

Coincidentally, Ryan and Alexa were fighting. Not about me, I don't think, just about the relationship in general, the same kinds of stuff I always fought with my partners about, which seems silly and petty from the outside but heavy and important when it's you. They were fighting so much so that she told him not to go with her on their planned trip to California.

So, it's him and me tonight. We were alone. We were drinking. He was talking like they were already broken up. He needed to get his mind off her, so we started talking about "old times." And since they're not my old times, I have to play coy and draw it out of him and not really contribute much. He had the old yearbook out, and I got to see his dorky, skinny, high school self. I wonder if Val still sees him that way, and that's why she doesn't want to be with him.

I blame it on my own problems. Rafe. Career uncertainty. Being on my feet all day.

So, he says, let me give you a footrub. I blush. You had better be very sure you're single before you offer to give someone else a footrub. My feet are aching and Ryan is a hot, charming guy. I just know that if that man touches my foot, we are going to have sex. It's just that simple. If I let him break that barrier, there's no turning back.

I stall a minute - as long as I can, really, but probably only five seconds before my foot is propped on the stool. And it felt good. It was so good to be touched, and it hasn't even been this long, and God knows I've gone longer. After a while I offer him a backrub in return. Well it doesn't take long before that becomes a makeout session, and we both know it's quickly becoming foreplay.

I think, no matter who I become next, whether it's Cynthia, or a man, or someone else, nothing will quite equal the experience of having sex as Val. It's not that it's so good that it would make me want to stay as her, but there's a thrill in seeing how badly your partner really wants you, that I've never had as anyone else. It's blatantly obvious how Ryan had spent his whole life dreaming of a chance to play with Val's body, and he knew just what he wanted to do with it. (Admittedly, on my end, I have to say Rafe was better, but Ryan was definitely more into it.)

And now I lie here... wondering what my next move is. I feel guilty for doing exactly what I said I wouldn't do to Val, leaving her with drama... but it could be good for her to pursue this, if it's anything. I don't know. My head's still spinning, my legs still shaking...

And he's still fast asleep.

Men.

-Ty/Val

Tyler/Valerie: Cynthia

Another hot city summer in a female body. A good-looking one where men notice when you start showing skin - or wear anything that gives a hint of your figure. And sue me, that's the least of my worries. Let them look if they need to, let me turn heads on the street, I'm not afraid, as long as they don't get out of line. At least, with the thinner layers and less fabric that women's clothes provide, the less overheated I get going about my business. Guys don't get the benefits of low necklines and high-cropped shorts - I've got to take the wins where I can in this body, you know. IF you had told me five years ago that I'd be kind of excited to be wearing short skirts, I'd have punched you where you stood, but here we are.

Of course with every positive there's an equal or greater negative... flat, humidity-wrecked hair, sunburned cleavage, and of course, underboob sweat. And guys, I've got a lot of underboob to sweat through.

Ripping the Band-Aid Off

I've had a fair amount on my mind since the last time I posted. I was trying really hard to find the "right" time and way to break it off with Rafe. I figured I would be more likely to do it the first time he and I had a blowup about something but somehow he's managed to be a perfect gentleman since I got back from Westchester. Freezing him out for a few days must have really gotten to him. Damn, that meant I had to find a way to level with him, and find some convincing grounds to end it even though, if you asked us both, we'd probably agree we're still having fun.

It's not the best relationship I've ever had (if you can call it that) but it's not the worst, and at it's best it's weirdly very non-dysfunctional, which feels strange.

The other night we were lying in bed and he asked me how I was feeling. He's never done that before. I literally had to sit up, wide-eyed and startled and ask "Who are you?" And that's a loaded question coming from me of course - it occurred to me for a moment that he might not actually be himself. But he looked at me like I was crazy for even asking, and he just shook it off, like "I'm just trying to be nicer, man."

I told him I was just lost in thought about the future. He asked if I meant "our" future. I said just the future in general, you know I don't really want to pour coffee for the rest of my life. Then I asked, "Is there an 'our' future?"

He shrugged, "Why not? We're having fun, aren't we?"

I winced. "I do want more, eventually."

I thought he might react pretty badly, but he just sighed, "You gettin' tired of me, chickpea?"

"No, I just... think a break might be good."

Shit, I thought to myself as soon as I said it, I can't waffle on this and leave the door open.

I could see him getting upset, but in an understated way: "If you call it off, I'm not gonna wait around for you to change your mind."

"I wouldn't expect it."

He sat and thought for a minute and said something kind of unexpected: "You know if you give me some time... just a little while... maybe... I could... I mean, we could..." he stammered, and I stopped him before he could putter to the end of his sentence.

"I can't explain it, but... we don't have that kind of time."

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"It means I've got to go."

"Fine, go then."

And I had to admit, I was a bit hurt that he didn't fight more, but he did make a bit of a play for... something. And I don't doubt his sincerity, but, well... I had to do what I had to do. I threw my clothes on, trying not to linger too long, stuffed my underwear in my bag, and called for a cab home.

A Good Bad Dream

I tossed and turned all night because I had an important meeting in the morning. And when I finally did get to sleep, I had this really vivid dream that I was back at the Trading Post, and I got transformed into Ryan - I was tall and muscular and I had a dick and everything, and I went to bed with his girlfriend Alexa and... I woke up feeling very guilty about all that, very shaken. I also woke up to find I had started my period, as if to rub it in.

So imagine how I felt when I went out to the Kitchen to pour myself a bowl of Cheerios and she was there already eating.

Things are a little icy between us but I think she could sense I had had a rough night so she asked about it, and I said I had ended things with Rafe. She draped her arm around me and said "Girl, I know it hurts, but I know you can do better!" I barely know this girl, and I was semi-attracted to her boyfriend, and he was/is definitely attracted to me, and she was giving me sisterly love. I felt rotten.

Ryan appeared a little after that, and we all talked, although I was not in a very social mood. Ryan made a big show of cozying up to Alexa, as well he should, and it all served to make me feel like the loneliest guy in the world.

Cynthia's Story

It was around 11 I ended up meeting with "Cynthia Hutchins." I hadn't actually wanted to pursue this but Pete convinced me, saying she had gone to the trouble of seeking me out - I said that didn't necessarily bode well, and she agreed sure, but if she meant ill she could have probably approached it some other way. Then we went back and forth over what someone who meant ill for me would actually do and eventually Pete wore me down (as she has a way of doing) so I agreed to meet. I was definitely more curious than I wanted to be.

After I had been to her place, I realized I had seen her in the coffee shop several times. She always looked very put-together - a well-dressed, beautiful and fashionable 30-something with a slim body, pretty blue eyes and silky golden blonde hair. I noticed her, envied her, resented her - as I do a lot of my female customers. Male ones, too. But she was always nice, and now I realize it's because she knew who I was... despite not mentioning the name of the coffee shop, I had at least given enough of a description of Valerie's body that she must have known the moment she found me.

Her husband is probably average height for a man, so that they're about even when she's in her heels, with a young-looking face for his mid-40's but gray hair. Their kids are 13, 12, and 7 -- Cynthia is the stepmother.

I told her there's another coffee shop around the corner where I prefer to talk about these things, away from my friends, customers and co-workers, and she agreed to meet me there. She was looking very prim and proper, and knowing I was going to meet with her made me want to dress up like I was going for a job interview - pleated black skirt, white blouse with scalloped shoulders, hair tied back.

"You look very nice," she said, seemingly sincere. I said she did too, complimenting her earrings in particular, a pair of dangly gold baubles. She stood up to bid me to sit down and I was immediately put off by how she towered over me in her three-inch heels.

"I guess you're wondering... about everything."

I sighed, "I find in these situations it's best to let someone just say whatever they feel they have to, and then if I have any questions, I'll hold them."

"Very well," she said, offering a narrow smile. "I'll be brief."

"No need, I've got all afternoon."

Her smile broadened.

"Five years ago, I did something very uncharacteristic and spontaneous. I took a vacation with a man I hardly knew, to Maine. I was having one of those moments where I wanted to... sorry, you're going to laugh when I say this but it's true... I wanted to quit being myself for a while. Not literally of course, I never would have asked to... well, yes. I just wanted to get away for a while and throw caution to the wind. I met a man online and he suggested we go to Maine. He told me unfortunately, the only place he could get a reservation was thing dingy old Inn, but we'd make the most of it. I had just quit my job, there was no limit how long we could stay.

"After nearly a week of running around like we were teenagers, we woke up in the bodies of the Hutchinses. The original James Hutchins was a widower and was dating a much younger woman, and he ended up choosing to stay with her rather than returning to his children. A disgusting choice, but I benefitted from it so... I can't say I looked unkindly on him for making it."

She cleared her throat. "I'm sure you can relate to trying to make an ad-hoc family work with a person you only barely know." I nodded.

"It was a very appealing life, very much unlike the one I had left. I had chosen career over family... or, it had worked out that way, since I never had a chance at family before. Now I had my youth again, I had beauty, I had money, I had three children who resented me at first, but soon understood that I cared a lot more about them than their ersatz father, even if they didn't quite understand why. For James' part, he... did his best. It was years before the family started to collapse. Or rather, he started to. The pressures of work got to him, and... well, there was an added element because he could only succeed at work with my help, and I started to feel taken-advantage-of, since he worked a job he had no business doing, but that I could, quite easily I think."

"And what's that?"

"James is the Vice President of Research and Development for a Pharmaceutical Company. I was a biochemical engineer, back in Tuscaloosa. It was extremely convenient for him."

"I'll say."

"He wants out. He's tired of faking it. And I'm tired of him neglecting the children we inherited, and of the loveless sham of a marriage we were rushed into. But he's not tired of the money. So we've struck a deal. I will become him, and transfer a certain portion of James' salary to the person he becomes as a way of getting him out of my life."

"Uh huh..." I said, skeptical about all this,

"And my hope was... is... that I could find a person who knows the truth about the Inn, who needs a place to live the rest of her, or his, life. Someone with a proven track record of taking care of others. Tyler... this is a match made in heaven, don't you think?"

My face got hot. I didn't know what to say. "You want me... to just... become you -- Her? Cynthia?"

"I believe that would be best, yes."

I couldn't speak.

She went on. "Before you answer, let me assure you, I don't demand much. My hope is that for at least the immediate present, you would put up the charade of being a loving, caring mother to these kids. Our relationship would be strictly business. You would be free to pursue whatever you wanted. And I mean that in the fullest sense... if you wanted to lounge around and collect an allowance from me, I would let you. If you wanted a divorce, I could easily arrange that, and give you favorable terms. If you wanted to leave and go back to the Inn after a year, I would permit it, even though you would be giving up a lot...

"You would have freedom... Opportunity... Resources to do anything you wanted. Say, for instance... start your own business with my money."

It was scary how good this pitch was. There had to be a catch. Well, of course I already knew what it was: I would have to be Cynthia Hutchins. And if I were, I would probably be her forever.

It's no secret I would really rather live out my life in the sex I was born with, even as much as I've adjusted to the female role. I can't help thinking it's still only temporary. But the amount of things that would have to fall into place to get the body and life I actually want, and to be able to keep it... to accept this offer would be to admit defeat, and give up my slim hope of ever finding that perfect life.

Really, though, to stop fooling myself.

"I'm... flattered," I said. "I'm supposed to go back to the Inn in a few weeks, to give Valerie her life back. When are you..."

"End of August," she said, "You would return to the Inn at the beginning of September."

"What if I... become someone who can't come back? What if I become a kid or a... well, anything could happen. It could be out of my control."

"As long as you're willing, we'll find a way. This is my offer to you, no strings attached. I can virtually guarantee that a person in your situation can't hope for anything better."

I suddenly felt cold in the air-conditioned coffee shop, and grasped my upper arms.

"I don't know, Cynthia. There's a lot to think about. Just answer me one thing."

"Shoot."

"Are you really from Tuscaloosa?"

She smiled. "Roll tide."

I've got some thinking to do.

-Tyler/Valerie/Possible Future Cynthia

Tyler/Valerie: Cut to the song

Maybe you've picked up on this... sometimes I can be very stupid. I can be emotional, irrational, go off half-cocked... and I don't necessarily have to be female to do it. I acted that way as a lot a man (as you may know) and if anything female hormones maybe have had a moderating effect on these tendencies. This is contrary to what every man reading this probably thinks, but I'm living proof.

So what was so stupid? I bet you can guess, but I'll tell it anyway.

Last Friday was Ryan's open mic performance at the piano bar. I went to support him, because I've been there all through the preparation for this, and it didn't seem like Alexa was going to be there (what a shock.) I didn't want to let on that I may have been developing a sort of crush on him, so I rounded up the gals, Brigette and Maddie, and even halfheartedly invited Rafe, who said he'd be busy that night. Fair enough, I was just being polite.

Still, we all agreed to "do it up," looks-wise. Pete doesn't need much effort, and Maddie is very cute, but personally I always feel rather dingy and in need of special effort to look good. So we got the styling want out to make my hair do those elegant long spirals, spent a lot of time trying to perfect my makeup, found a special pair of not-overly-comfortable heels, and of course... The Dress.

I had noticed this dress in Val's closet not long after I arrived. It's a nice navy blue dress, a bit more elegant than a cocktail dress, but still very sexy - with a lacy cutout in the breast to show cleavage while still providing some modesty. She doesn't own many garments like it, as I'm guessing stuff like this is hard to find in Val's proportions. I wonder if it was custom-fit or modified. It was a little snug in the belly (sue me, I've munched a few cookies at the shop on my break) but looked hot. Beautiful, even.

When we arrived who is the first person we see but Rafe, cleaned up rather nicely I'm slightly embarrassed to admit.

"I thought you were busy?" I said, kind of annoyed.

"Oh, I moved some stuff around, no big deal," he shrugged.

Only Rafe could find a way to do something nice and be annoying about it.

So after a drink or so, it's Ryan's set. He plays a couple of instrumental piano jazz pieces that the crowd appreciates. Then he says "Thanks, I'm gonna do something a little different now... but I haven't formally rehearsed. I just need some help. Would Valerie Stewart come up here?"

My eyes go wide. My face flushes red. I know exactly what he's thinking. I mouth "No. NO." but he keeps egging me on and the crowd does too... I thought this place would be too classy for that sort of thing.

Last week while I was watching him rehearse, he pointed out that I do a lot of humming along and singing. "Oh," I said, "I guess I didn't notice." Even though it's been pointed out that I do this absent-mindedly a lot when I'm cooking or cleaning or anything.

"I never knew you had such a nice voice," he said. "Is that new?"

"Uh," I squeaked, "You could say that." The reason is, when I was Lauren I had to take those singing lessons and I took a bit of a liking to it, to where it did become a habit.

"You wanna sing something for me?"

"Uh, sure..." I said, doing my best to sound uncertain even as I was feeling a little spellbound by his music.

"I think this is one you'd know..." he said, and he began to tap something out on the keyboard... it took me a few bars to realize he was doing a loungey version of "You Shook Me All Night Long" by AC/DC. I smiled.

"She was a fast machine, she kept her motor clean, she was the best damn woman that I... ever seen..." 

It was good. It was great. Incredible, even. It was as close to the experience of having sex as you can get with your clothes on, as far as I'm concerned. It made me fall a little deeper and realize this is a serious crush, and it's a problem because he's with Alexa and I'm not planning on being Val much longer.

But that was just in the confines of Ryan's room. And now he was twisting my arm into re-enacting that moment in front of a room full of strangers. And fucking Rafe. And I couldn't say no. Part of me honestly didn't want to, but I really, really didn't want to be put in that situation.

But I was on my second glass on wine. What the hell. Pass me the microphone.

It was a little messy - obviously we hadn't rehearsed and it really showed. But the crowd did like it. I just had to step outside my body.

But when I got back in, I realized it was hot. Really hot. Like, ready to drop my clothes on the floor. I was shaking.

I did a bashful little curtsy and went back to my seats, to general high fives and backslapping from Maddie and Pete, and a smug little nod of approval from Rafe.

Ryan closed with "Sunrise," the song I am very, very sure he wrote about Val when they were in high school. And the whole time he was singing, he was looking in my direction. I felt very weird, and very strange about it.

Then after he was done, I heard a very prominent source of applause at the back of the room. Alexa had arrived. What had she seen? What would she think? It was like a splash of cold water.

Once Ryan stepped down, she rushed over to embrace him. Then as they reached the table, she also smiled at me and said "Val, that was so good! Great job." So she had seen it, and either she didn't think anything was wrong with it, or she was just being very, very proper.

I was embarrassed, and drunk, and feeling very ill-at-ease about what had happened. And I needed to deflect any possible evidence that there was anything between Ryan and me, so I started paying more attention to Rafe. And I have to say, he was game... that secret charm he keeps buried inside, he let it out and really reveled in the fact that I was sort of hanging off him. Soon I actually did get caught up in the moment and forgot my problem. Pete, the Ultimate Wingwoman, whiaked Maddy away juat as she may have been getting suspicious.

I don't want to blame it all on the alcohol, because probably the reason I was drinking so much is because I hoped this would be the outcome. I could blame it on the hormones... I have noticed I feel pangs of loneliness very strongly now, and part of me wonders if that's leftover chemicals from Val caving Josh's intimacy and partnership. Or if it's just all me. I don't know.

I invited Rafe to walk me home. He was acting very sheepish like he didn't know what was going on, but he obviously did. The small talk dwindled into some pretty awkward exchanges at it became clear that we had run out of stuff to say, and both somewhat knew where the night was going, but couldn't acknowledge it yet. It waa hard to walk the line of up front but not desperate.

"You were, uh... really great up there, by the way," he said in an uncharacteristic show of sincerity.

"Thanks," I smiled, "I really wasn't expecting it. I also didn't think that crowd would be into that song..."

"Oh come on, who doesn't like AC/DC?"

When we got to my building, I took a deep breath and asked... "So...you want to come up?"

He cocked an eyebrow. "Are you sure? Because look, I don't wanna play any games here. If I go up there, I'm expecting... you know."

I twisted my mouth, and nodded. "Yeah... I know."

"All right, sweet," he said, nearly ruining it for himself right there. Grinning and bearing it, I buzzed us in.

After checking to make sure the coast was clear, I ushered him into my room. We got off to an awkward start... I mean, how could we not? I'm still something of a novice at being "the girl," even after my time with Josh. There was the process of working out how to fit ourselves together with the height difference, undressing in a subtle and sexy way instead of just stripping down businesslike... personally I don't think I'm very seductive but luckily for me, when you look a certain way, you would have to work very hard against yourself to turn a guy off.

As far as details... I'll have to stop myself. I don't want to give all the play by play, but there's a few key notes I've been thinking about since. It was a blur, but I was definitely there for every second of it. I will say it was good - more intense than the delicate style I was used to from Kitty. Better than I honestly intended. And it felt different than in Judith's body, in some very good ways.

I could tell he enjoyed himself. I could tell he was looking forward to seeing and touching my body this way after months of knowing each other. He took great pleasure in fondling and playing with my boobs, which was actually quite stimulating for me as well... it's just a relief they're good for something other than knocking over coffee cups. And for a formerly heterosexual man whose eyes have been awakened to sex from the female perspective, even though I didn't initially see him as any kind of sexy, a lot of what he had going on really did it for me. (And I don't know what it is, but he smelled great.)

He made some moves that I might have objected to if it hadn't been "in the moment," some I found I enjoyed despite myself, some I would probably ask him not to repeat (if this should ever happen again.) It was not very tender, and the first round was very much about him, but I got some pleasure there. The second round was slower, with more time for me.

Afterwards, I lay there feeling very conflicted. I was on an endorphin high but I felt myself crashing down and I wasn't suddenly in love with him or anything. He was still a pest that I could only intermittently get along with, and maybe I deserved better, but I had no time or energy to spend looking for that. It didn't feel good inside knowing how proud he probably was of himself for "conquering" me when it depended entirely on my own loneliness and dejection. I felt used, but I had also used him, so who's to say what's wrong?

"You don't uh... want to spend the night, do you?" I asked awkwardly as we lay there in the 'afterglow.'

He grunted, "Uh... not really."

"Okay, you can, um... go whenever."

He took that as his cue to sit right up and start pulling his pants on. Which was a little bit insulting but it was exactly what I said.

As I saw him out to the living room, I said, "Hey, don't go, uh, blabbing about this yet, okay? I need to think about what happened tonight."

"Sure," he said, a little bitterly. "Whatever you want. Hey, I'm here for you anytime."

"Thanks," I said warily, knowing all too well he would be interested in another round sometime. I gave him a really awkward hug and saw him out.

We haven't talked since, and I don't necessarily mind. I just want to live what left of my life here.

-Tyler