This is going to be a quick one, as there's not a ton going up here in Toronto. Todd and I have been going through a hellish November for school, while he juggles his part-time work at the record store, and Brian has been working and hectoring Todd into this whole band thing.
Believe me, it has not been the easiest thing in the world for me and Todd to feel like a couple again. We barely manage to spend time together, and I feel so removed from the days when I was happy being someone's girlfriend. My time as Rob was refreshing... it'd been a long time since I'd dated Todd but for the first time I wasn't moping around heartbroken and single. Happy being single. Happy with myself. As a guy in Philadelphia. Never thought I'd say that.
Maybe I'm over-romanticizing it, because it definitely wasn't all sunshine and rainbows, but that level of freedom and independence, I'd never had. I started being with Todd right when I left home, and he was my first love so I spent a lot of time -- probably too much to accurately call myself a feminist -- being sad it was over. Follow that with guilty rebound sex and isolation, and Rob Garcia: Philadelphian High School English teacher sounds like a decent trade.
So the whole dynamic has been different between me and Todd and for a long while I was wondering whether it was even meant to be anymore. I saw the way he was with Shelby, even though she's got a boyfriend, and wondered if he'd be happier with her. Or if I should find Crystal and give her my body back and just leave this place forever (I know a lot of you would love that!) But here's what happened: that stupid ass band.
It doesn't even have a name, they've just been calling it "The Todd and Bryan Epic Band." Funny in a kind of "we're so lame it's cool" way.
Then they coaxed Shelby into playing drums and it became... a thing. And that pissed me off. Whereas it was just them, whenever they got together, with their guitars, it was suddenly a requirement that they spend X number of hours each week at Shelby's place working on their material, because after all she's got the drums and it wouldn't do to transport them anywhere, let alone to their little apartment.
I spent a lot of November ready to say "screw it" to the whole relationship, these friendships I've had for so many years, when The Todd and Bryan Epic Band Featuring Shelby booked a gig in Mississauga (for the curious, that's a town that borders Toronto to the East and is largely suburban with a slight cultural center.) Irritated that it should be so convenient to go all the way down there, I debated even bothering. I hadn't spoken to Todd about my doubts about us but I think he was picking up on them. I went anyway, to show my support.
They went through a number of familiar covers. They're really impressive musicians, Bryan even did a Marty McFly version of Johnny B. Goode, complete with windmills and Jimi Hendrix affecations (although the imitation definitely isn't perfect.) The originals were uneven... the ballad Bryan had written (for Crystal, I think) seemed a bit cheesy, and the uptempo number was a bit clunky. I'm just being honest here.
THen for their finale, Todd stepped up to the microphone. He doesn't sing often, although he's better at it than he gives himself credit for. He looked out into the audience. I was sitting far enough back that he probably couldn't see me, but he dedicated it by saying "This last one goes out to the pretty girl in the back, with her hair in a ponytail." Me (he's often called me "the girl in the back" because of how shy I was when we met.)
Todd exchanged his bass for an acoustic guitar and began to strum. It was Pink Floyd's "Wish You Were Here," a song he'd played for me on one of our first dates and had a special resonance now that we had been apart. Instead of fading out like the recording, it climaxed in a louder, louder, I'll say it -- epic riff to climax the show. The following act actually made a snarky remark that they couldn't follow that and were going home (they actually played a respectable set.)
And me... well I'm not made of ice. In that 5 minutes I felt the feeling welling up in me that I haven't had in a long while. That passion, that desire... Goddamnit if I'm not a sucker for a boy with a guitar. More than anything, it made me feel for the first time in years that I was being thought of, that I was wanted, that I was important to somebody.
Our relationship isn't fixed overnight, but that one song went a long way toward that goal, based on what happened between us later that night.
Ta
-Alia
Showing posts with label Toronto. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Toronto. Show all posts
Monday, December 06, 2010
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Bryan: Good Times, Bad Times
I haven't posted here since way before Todd and I got our bodies back. I used it as sort of an outlet when I was stressed out being Ellie and when I got my own body back the last thing I felt like I needed was a shoulder to whine on. No disrespect to Todd, because everything that happened with Alia, and the Erica LaFleur situation, he had a lot on his mind. So despite living under the same roof, he and I kind of drifted apart for a year.
Maybe it was the Crystal situation. I don't know how you guys feel about the way he told it... reading his old posts, I feel like I mainly got a fair shake. It's not like I always wanted to nail Alia, and having Crystal in her body enabled me to do that. I had literally never thought about it until Crystal showed up and we just sorta connected.
I'll spare you the details of how it happened. It started out as me just keeping an eye on her, and eventually it occurred to us that we might make a nice couple, and realistically I was probably the only person she could date without everyone going insane (her, Todd, and probably real Alia.)
It was probably the healthiest relationship of my life. She cooked and cleaned and I tried not to seem like a kid she was taking care of, but like, a partner. She made me want to be better. We both had steady jobs. It was a real damn adult relationship. But as Todd said, we both knew the detail: it was temporary.
I couldn't bloody well convince her to stay in Alia's body. I told her I wouldn't mind meeting the real her, but she was adamant that that not happen. I kept asking her why, but she wouldn't clarify for me. I pushed the issue a bit more, and we fought a bit toward the end, but I always made amends because the last thing I wanted to do was lose Alia's body along with Crystal. When she left, we were still on good terms, but the relationship was over.
It's been hard, though, being around Alia, especially when she's with Todd. A couple times, I've accidentally called her "Crys," and then felt like an asshole, even though she assures me it's an innocent mistake. The weird thing is, partway through my relationship with Crystal, she insisted I call her "Alia," just so that I didn't slip in public. I didn't want to go along with it, but Todd and I had the same understanding when he was Aunt Anne Marie.
My one salvation is the band. We don't have a name yet, but Todd and I have been rehearsing a lot lately. We don't have a drummer, since most of our drummer friends have scattered, some already in bands, some giving up music or moving away. That doesn't stop he and I from jamming on Zeppelin ("Good Times, Bad Times,") Metric ("Gimme Sympathy,") Third Eye Blind ("Semi-Charmed Life") and Hollerado ("Americanarama,") as well as a few originals we've been workshopping.
So anyway, here's what's happened. With Todd and Alia getting back together, the social circle has sort of firmed a rift, and on one side is the happy couple, and on the other is me and Shelby, Todd's co-worker, who was hanging out with us a lot before and after Alia got back. Eventually, she and I just started hanging out on our own, since getting the four of us together would probably just be too awkward. In fact it was a little awkward just to get a cup of coffee with this random 19-year-old so soon after my break-up with Crystal, but she's actually quite cool. We were out by Queen's Park the other day, having some coffee, when I started talking about Crystal in veiled terms. I actually used her real name, to differentiate her from the situation she thinks I'm going through with Alia and Todd.
See... I have her number. Well, a number. I have some contact info for Crystal, acquired when we were first looking into her background and I found out she was from Cleveland Heights, not Shaker Heights. She doesn't know I have it. She'd probably be pretty pissed if I used it. But I keep it on a card by my desk and I look at it often, wondering if I should call. I told Shelby this. Her advice:
"The past is the past, man. You've got to move forward. If it isn't meant to be, don't worry. There are plenty more women out there." I gave her a look, and she hastily added, "Not me, though. I have a boyfriend." Oh.
But the last thing I found out is... she drums. Oh, chick drummers.
Seriously, though, I asked if I could hear her sometime, and if maybe she'd consider joining up with me and Todd. She said she'd think about it, since she's been meaning to get a regular thing going with someone. Why not us, eh? Maybe if we have a drummer, we'll get gigs, and things will start being awesome. I have yet to tell Todd about this development.
-Bryan
Maybe it was the Crystal situation. I don't know how you guys feel about the way he told it... reading his old posts, I feel like I mainly got a fair shake. It's not like I always wanted to nail Alia, and having Crystal in her body enabled me to do that. I had literally never thought about it until Crystal showed up and we just sorta connected.
I'll spare you the details of how it happened. It started out as me just keeping an eye on her, and eventually it occurred to us that we might make a nice couple, and realistically I was probably the only person she could date without everyone going insane (her, Todd, and probably real Alia.)
It was probably the healthiest relationship of my life. She cooked and cleaned and I tried not to seem like a kid she was taking care of, but like, a partner. She made me want to be better. We both had steady jobs. It was a real damn adult relationship. But as Todd said, we both knew the detail: it was temporary.
I couldn't bloody well convince her to stay in Alia's body. I told her I wouldn't mind meeting the real her, but she was adamant that that not happen. I kept asking her why, but she wouldn't clarify for me. I pushed the issue a bit more, and we fought a bit toward the end, but I always made amends because the last thing I wanted to do was lose Alia's body along with Crystal. When she left, we were still on good terms, but the relationship was over.
It's been hard, though, being around Alia, especially when she's with Todd. A couple times, I've accidentally called her "Crys," and then felt like an asshole, even though she assures me it's an innocent mistake. The weird thing is, partway through my relationship with Crystal, she insisted I call her "Alia," just so that I didn't slip in public. I didn't want to go along with it, but Todd and I had the same understanding when he was Aunt Anne Marie.
My one salvation is the band. We don't have a name yet, but Todd and I have been rehearsing a lot lately. We don't have a drummer, since most of our drummer friends have scattered, some already in bands, some giving up music or moving away. That doesn't stop he and I from jamming on Zeppelin ("Good Times, Bad Times,") Metric ("Gimme Sympathy,") Third Eye Blind ("Semi-Charmed Life") and Hollerado ("Americanarama,") as well as a few originals we've been workshopping.
So anyway, here's what's happened. With Todd and Alia getting back together, the social circle has sort of firmed a rift, and on one side is the happy couple, and on the other is me and Shelby, Todd's co-worker, who was hanging out with us a lot before and after Alia got back. Eventually, she and I just started hanging out on our own, since getting the four of us together would probably just be too awkward. In fact it was a little awkward just to get a cup of coffee with this random 19-year-old so soon after my break-up with Crystal, but she's actually quite cool. We were out by Queen's Park the other day, having some coffee, when I started talking about Crystal in veiled terms. I actually used her real name, to differentiate her from the situation she thinks I'm going through with Alia and Todd.
See... I have her number. Well, a number. I have some contact info for Crystal, acquired when we were first looking into her background and I found out she was from Cleveland Heights, not Shaker Heights. She doesn't know I have it. She'd probably be pretty pissed if I used it. But I keep it on a card by my desk and I look at it often, wondering if I should call. I told Shelby this. Her advice:
"The past is the past, man. You've got to move forward. If it isn't meant to be, don't worry. There are plenty more women out there." I gave her a look, and she hastily added, "Not me, though. I have a boyfriend." Oh.
But the last thing I found out is... she drums. Oh, chick drummers.
Seriously, though, I asked if I could hear her sometime, and if maybe she'd consider joining up with me and Todd. She said she'd think about it, since she's been meaning to get a regular thing going with someone. Why not us, eh? Maybe if we have a drummer, we'll get gigs, and things will start being awesome. I have yet to tell Todd about this development.
-Bryan
Thursday, January 07, 2010
Todd: Mysteries part 2
How chaotic my life is that an entry I started trying to write on the 2nd didn't get posted until the 5th, and now here I am on the 7th trying to remember what happened in between.
Ginny had checked into a motel. What kind of fight she must've had with her husband that led to her wanting to make an impromptu trip north she didn't really explain, except that it was about whether or not to have kids, and that obviously it was a big deal. I helped her bring her stuff over to my place and let her crash on my couch. I forgot what it was like to have a female under your roof. I've missed it.
Nobody ever asked me if I wanted to have kids. I woke up one morning in a body that already had them. I hated it for a long time, resented the lack of control I had over my life, or what I thought should be my life. This was made easier to deal with by the fact that I did have a lot of time to myself, but I didn't have anything to do during that time except watch TV, eat andmasturbate read. The rest of the time my life was controlled by the demands of the kids and husband I'd acquired, and all the little needs that went along with them. I can't believe how much I left out of this blog. A commenter noted that I seemed a lot happier when I was Anne-Marie. I think I didn't complain too much (and therefore barely spoke about it, because if I had believe me it'd be to complain) because part of me believed I deserved whatever misery I'd gotten. And part of me still believes that, because I've been a shitty boyfriend and a lazy human being. The truth is, I'm probably not those things, but far be it from me to realize that.
I probably seemed happier because I was complacent, glad to go along with whatever I had to deal with because I believed (rightly) that sooner or later it'd be over. If I woke up one day and learned that my chance to go back to the Inn was gone, I probably would've flipped my shit like nobody's business. I'm only unhappy now because of who is not in my life, in case I haven't made that clear. I think I have. I remember one time trying to corral Hayley and Connor into the car for a family gathering but Connor was playing Little Big Planet incessantly and I really lost my cool, yelling at him like some bitchy mom. Once I calmed down I freaked out privately about how out of control the whole situation had gotten, how it was affecting my behaviour. All it was was trying to get "my" kids into the car to go see family members that I don't even care about for reasons I didn't want. And somehow I was still capable of getting that irritated that easily. That's the kind of shit I didn't write about. Maybe I should have. This blog would feel a lot more complete.
I didn't, and don't, believe that the Inn affects the way one feels about things, behaves, thinks, acts, at least not in any magical way. Having lived through it, I certainly believed I was still in control of my every thought and desire, I was still the one making decisions. I only behaved differently because I was in a situation that necessitated a different type of behaviour. We know that the curse make a man into a woman physically; I believe that it's the situation that makes a man into a woman mentally. Bryan didn't want to be a girl acting girly and dating boys, so he became a tomboy who dated a girl. I wasn't going to go around finding lesbians who would want to bang a middle-aged mom, so I took what was there and convinced myself to put up with it.
Ginessa doesn't seem to have been anything other than a woman. I don't mean because she acts like a woman, I mean because she acts like she knows what she is. The morning after she first stayed over, she was sitting at my kitchen table drinking coffee and reading the newspaper, like any regular person. I remember getting to that place as Anne-Marie (Ginny must've gotten there long, long, long ago) where every day stopped being about the horror of a new life and instead about the normalcy of your own life.
I don't know how she fell in love with Gavin, I don't know how any woman falls in love with a man, especially having been one (having been a man who has had a woman in love with him, and having been a woman living with a man. Either way.) I think this baby-thing has really shaken her up, made her question her decisions, or second-guess the place those right-seeming decisions brought her. Who gets married without thinking of kids? She has to have seen this coming. It spooked her good, though.
I told her nobody asked me if I wanted to have kids, but I ended up with them, now almost for a second time. If someone had asked, I'd have said no thanks. But the truth is, being a parent is no worse than accidentally turning into someone else, and if you can handle that, you can handle anything. If you'd asked me if I'd want to spend a year as a woman, a mother, a wife, I would've laughed in your face without a moment's hesitation. And while I wasn't happy during that time, I don't regret it either. There you go, Bry. How could I? For starters, I made it back in one piece. I got an experience that extends beyond the imaginable, beyond what I can truly explain or even understand. Wouldn't have chosen to be Anne-Marie. Even if you lined up a hundred women and said I had to be one, I wouldn't have chosen to be Anne-Marie. I could've done worse, though. And I don't regret it. And I don't see Ginessa regretting a lot of her life either. But this kid thing, man! It's really got her tripped up.
Well, I think this is a problem without an easy answer. And I don't particularly do well when there ARE easy answers. Ginessa will either go back to New York and have a kid, or she'll go back to New York, fight with Gavin about it, and maybe they'll split up and she'll have to forge some new destiny for herself. Sadly, life is not a simple, straightforward story.
While she was here, she played girlfriend. Not romantic girlfriend, but "girl-friend." I indulged her in her shopping and we went to see Avatar, and I showed her the sights and introduced her to people who know about the Inn.
I hate to say this, especially considering the situation, but Ginny's the first woman I've found attractive in a long while. I mean, I see hot girls around a lot of the time but I don't approach them the way I used to, with confidence and, like, a plan. I just watch passively because I don't want to allow myself any dangerous thoughts while Alia is in Philly. Aside from Crystal/Alia and certain other people, Ginessa is the first female I have spent a significant amount of time with since getting back, and it gave me a warm feeling that was tainted by guilt. Guilt of me betraying Alia with those feelings (fleeting though they may be) and guilty of her already being on the rocks with her husband. I hate myself for the fact that, had I done anything, she wouldn't be the first married woman I'd fucked. That year. Ugh.
Once I'd acknowledged it to myself, at the end of the first very long day with her, I felt shitty. So I spilled my guts. "Ginny," I says, "I want you to know that I'm in a very vulnerable place right now, so if you're getting a weird vibe from me, just know that it's because you're just a really hot girl who is also very cool and I like spending time with you. That's all." Yeah, I've really lost my way with words.
She looks at me for a minute like she's trying to wrap her head around whatever it is I'd just said. "Todd, hun, are you saying you want to fuck me?"
"No, no, I mean, yeah who wouldn't, but I don't intend to do anything about that. I just meant it as a compliment."
She laughed a bit and sighed, "That's so wrong. Not quite as wrong as the fact that I've thought about it too, but pretty damn wrong."
"You've thought about it?"
"Sure. I mean, not seriously. I'm a married woman, for God's sake. But the idea had occurred to me that if I was going to cheat -- which I'm not -- I could do worse."
"Well... thanks." Then, since I could think of no appropriate gesture at that point, extended my hand for a shake.
She went in for a hug instead, and said quietly in my ear, "Do yourself a favour and keep it in your pants until Alia comes back." That's my New Year's Resolution.
I told Alia about this later on MSN. She replied with "Lol. You're an idiot, you know. But if you wanna come down here I wouldn't mind." I politely declined, but I'm counting the days until she makes it back to Maine.
The story of New Year's, and other stuff, is a relatively simple one, but I've spent so much time trying to make this little story into big thoughts that I should give it a rest. More later.
-Todd
Ginny had checked into a motel. What kind of fight she must've had with her husband that led to her wanting to make an impromptu trip north she didn't really explain, except that it was about whether or not to have kids, and that obviously it was a big deal. I helped her bring her stuff over to my place and let her crash on my couch. I forgot what it was like to have a female under your roof. I've missed it.
Nobody ever asked me if I wanted to have kids. I woke up one morning in a body that already had them. I hated it for a long time, resented the lack of control I had over my life, or what I thought should be my life. This was made easier to deal with by the fact that I did have a lot of time to myself, but I didn't have anything to do during that time except watch TV, eat and
I probably seemed happier because I was complacent, glad to go along with whatever I had to deal with because I believed (rightly) that sooner or later it'd be over. If I woke up one day and learned that my chance to go back to the Inn was gone, I probably would've flipped my shit like nobody's business. I'm only unhappy now because of who is not in my life, in case I haven't made that clear. I think I have. I remember one time trying to corral Hayley and Connor into the car for a family gathering but Connor was playing Little Big Planet incessantly and I really lost my cool, yelling at him like some bitchy mom. Once I calmed down I freaked out privately about how out of control the whole situation had gotten, how it was affecting my behaviour. All it was was trying to get "my" kids into the car to go see family members that I don't even care about for reasons I didn't want. And somehow I was still capable of getting that irritated that easily. That's the kind of shit I didn't write about. Maybe I should have. This blog would feel a lot more complete.
I didn't, and don't, believe that the Inn affects the way one feels about things, behaves, thinks, acts, at least not in any magical way. Having lived through it, I certainly believed I was still in control of my every thought and desire, I was still the one making decisions. I only behaved differently because I was in a situation that necessitated a different type of behaviour. We know that the curse make a man into a woman physically; I believe that it's the situation that makes a man into a woman mentally. Bryan didn't want to be a girl acting girly and dating boys, so he became a tomboy who dated a girl. I wasn't going to go around finding lesbians who would want to bang a middle-aged mom, so I took what was there and convinced myself to put up with it.
Ginessa doesn't seem to have been anything other than a woman. I don't mean because she acts like a woman, I mean because she acts like she knows what she is. The morning after she first stayed over, she was sitting at my kitchen table drinking coffee and reading the newspaper, like any regular person. I remember getting to that place as Anne-Marie (Ginny must've gotten there long, long, long ago) where every day stopped being about the horror of a new life and instead about the normalcy of your own life.
I don't know how she fell in love with Gavin, I don't know how any woman falls in love with a man, especially having been one (having been a man who has had a woman in love with him, and having been a woman living with a man. Either way.) I think this baby-thing has really shaken her up, made her question her decisions, or second-guess the place those right-seeming decisions brought her. Who gets married without thinking of kids? She has to have seen this coming. It spooked her good, though.
I told her nobody asked me if I wanted to have kids, but I ended up with them, now almost for a second time. If someone had asked, I'd have said no thanks. But the truth is, being a parent is no worse than accidentally turning into someone else, and if you can handle that, you can handle anything. If you'd asked me if I'd want to spend a year as a woman, a mother, a wife, I would've laughed in your face without a moment's hesitation. And while I wasn't happy during that time, I don't regret it either. There you go, Bry. How could I? For starters, I made it back in one piece. I got an experience that extends beyond the imaginable, beyond what I can truly explain or even understand. Wouldn't have chosen to be Anne-Marie. Even if you lined up a hundred women and said I had to be one, I wouldn't have chosen to be Anne-Marie. I could've done worse, though. And I don't regret it. And I don't see Ginessa regretting a lot of her life either. But this kid thing, man! It's really got her tripped up.
Well, I think this is a problem without an easy answer. And I don't particularly do well when there ARE easy answers. Ginessa will either go back to New York and have a kid, or she'll go back to New York, fight with Gavin about it, and maybe they'll split up and she'll have to forge some new destiny for herself. Sadly, life is not a simple, straightforward story.
While she was here, she played girlfriend. Not romantic girlfriend, but "girl-friend." I indulged her in her shopping and we went to see Avatar, and I showed her the sights and introduced her to people who know about the Inn.
I hate to say this, especially considering the situation, but Ginny's the first woman I've found attractive in a long while. I mean, I see hot girls around a lot of the time but I don't approach them the way I used to, with confidence and, like, a plan. I just watch passively because I don't want to allow myself any dangerous thoughts while Alia is in Philly. Aside from Crystal/Alia and certain other people, Ginessa is the first female I have spent a significant amount of time with since getting back, and it gave me a warm feeling that was tainted by guilt. Guilt of me betraying Alia with those feelings (fleeting though they may be) and guilty of her already being on the rocks with her husband. I hate myself for the fact that, had I done anything, she wouldn't be the first married woman I'd fucked. That year. Ugh.
Once I'd acknowledged it to myself, at the end of the first very long day with her, I felt shitty. So I spilled my guts. "Ginny," I says, "I want you to know that I'm in a very vulnerable place right now, so if you're getting a weird vibe from me, just know that it's because you're just a really hot girl who is also very cool and I like spending time with you. That's all." Yeah, I've really lost my way with words.
She looks at me for a minute like she's trying to wrap her head around whatever it is I'd just said. "Todd, hun, are you saying you want to fuck me?"
"No, no, I mean, yeah who wouldn't, but I don't intend to do anything about that. I just meant it as a compliment."
She laughed a bit and sighed, "That's so wrong. Not quite as wrong as the fact that I've thought about it too, but pretty damn wrong."
"You've thought about it?"
"Sure. I mean, not seriously. I'm a married woman, for God's sake. But the idea had occurred to me that if I was going to cheat -- which I'm not -- I could do worse."
"Well... thanks." Then, since I could think of no appropriate gesture at that point, extended my hand for a shake.
She went in for a hug instead, and said quietly in my ear, "Do yourself a favour and keep it in your pants until Alia comes back." That's my New Year's Resolution.
I told Alia about this later on MSN. She replied with "Lol. You're an idiot, you know. But if you wanna come down here I wouldn't mind." I politely declined, but I'm counting the days until she makes it back to Maine.
The story of New Year's, and other stuff, is a relatively simple one, but I've spent so much time trying to make this little story into big thoughts that I should give it a rest. More later.
-Todd
Saturday, January 02, 2010
Todd: Other People are Mysteries
That's what I've learned about the world since my trip to womanhood and back. I got only a fraction of the wife-mother experience, only a sliver of one woman's life and it opened up all these questions, about all women, about men, about myself. I used to want to understand women, now I don't believe such a thing is really possible. It's hard enough just trying to understand yourself. There are so many things I did when I was Anne-Marie that I don't even know why. But this isn't really about that.
Working over the holidays really got me down. My entire life became the retail world. And I like my job, inasmuch as I can enjoy a wageslave retail gig, talking about movies and music to customers who think I'm out to cheat them because I wear the uniform of a big company. It got fairly ridiculous over the holidays and there wasn't much time for me to think about anything else. I sleepwalked through Christmas with my family and made some very obligatory outings on New Year's. More on that later.
There are these kids that come into the store. I don't mean any specific kids, but it's a type of customer we have, teenagers, usually in the first couple years of high school, 15, maybe 16-year-olds. Usually in small groups of mixed boys and girls, usually it looks like at least one couple in the mix, possible their first relationship. That bums me out for whatever reason, seeing these kids with their lives ahead of them, getting the fun of a new romance for the first time in their lives. I miss that. I've thought I was in love a lot of times, but I only really was once, and she's still in Philadelphia teaching high school English.
Todd the former-woman isn't Todd the CD seller. My life has gone on. Bryan's life has. He's seeing someone, although our hours don't sync up to the point where I've met her yet. Maybe it's not serious but I do hear them fucking ever so subtly in the next room. Good for him. I know he's been in love, or at least he once told me he was, but he wasn't loved back, so he doesn't carry a torch. That is a man who knows how to get on with his life. Or maybe he still thinks of himself as a 15-year-old girl pretending as a man. Like I said, other people are a mystery -- Bryan in particular. He never got back to me about his investigation of Crystal the new Alia, beyond the name tracing to a different, more low-rent suburb of Cleveland. I think it was Cleveland Heights.
I was all super-absorbed with my own depression, and then on December 29th, a woman walks into the store. I was busy with a customer so I only caught her from the corner of my eye, but I sensed a familiar appearance. As soon as I had helped that customer, I turned my attention to this woman. She was about 5'6, dressed elegantly but warmly with a sweater, long coat and scarf, the curve of her beautiful round breasts apparent through the layers. Low rise jeans leaving just a hint of skin bare beneath the waist of her sweater -- it was a warm December in Toronto. Leather boots with low heels. Tan, light-brown skin with long brown hair pulled back demurely, small gold earrings, undecorated lips. Big purse slung over her shoulder. She looks at me uncertainly with her big brown eyes and I look back at her to signal that even though she doesn't recognize me I recognize her and I have to interpret she must have come looking for me.
She guesses, "Todd?" as if it'd be embarrassing to be wrong.
"Ginessa," I smirk, overplaying my confidence in our now-mutual recognition, "Long time no, uh, see." I had absolutely no idea how to react because apart from my sparse conversations with Bryan and my usually off-topic conversations with Alia (either Alia) the Inn has not impinged upon my day-to-day life lately.
She melts in the warmness of the situation and hugs me. "Oh my God I am so glad to see you. I'm so glad I was able to find you. When do you get off work?" It was a couple hours yet. She asked if there was a coffee place nearby where we could meet. Of course there was. This is Toronto.
While I continued to work, she browsed the store. I've never mentioned it by name, but I work in a very large CD/Music/Video Game chain store that does not exist in the States. We also sell books, but only if you like books about music or teenage vampires.
Once I clocked out, I took her down Bay Street to a favourite hole-in-the-wall non-chain coffee place I used to go often with Alia. I asked what she was doing in Toronto, she told me, obviously, she'd come to see me.
I say I haven't had the Inn impinge on my day-to-day life that much. That's true. But of course I haven't left it behind. I have had correspondence with Anne-Marie and Alia and through them I get updates on people like Cliff and the new Kalli and Julia. I have also kept a pen pal relationship with Ginessa, whom you'll no doubt remember was once a man named Mark, although that was a lifetime ago for her. I met her once in person, when I was Anne-Marie, back in March. I liked her, I admired how fully she'd seemed to move past her old life. She'd gotten married, although it was technically a green card marriage, she professed she did love her husband Gavin. Our mutual friend was Darren/Jaime, whom I haven't kept in contact with, not through dislike, but I suspect she probably didn't care for me goofing on her.
Ginessa and I were able to bond despite our differences, though, because we had both given in to certain parts of the change. Hers was permanent, mine wasn't -- I hadn't thought it was when we met, and wasn't distressed. Jaime was still stuck in a place where she couldn't seem to admit it if it was. Ginessa, once an aspiring football star, was now a clubbing, would-be actress wife. And it didn't seem to bother her.
Didn't seem to.
She didn't express a lot of discontent in our infrequent letters. She'd vent about Gavin's particular habits, apparently he's a fussy guy (to be a stage director, I guess you'd have to be) and bemoan what she considered to be a sometimes one-sided sex-life. I wondered whether she missed sex from the male perspective the way I did. The female orgasm is nice, but elusive, and there's something really cool about being "in control." Not that women are never in control. Anything can be both ways, and everything is a mystery, like I've said.
But she didn't run away from her husband because of sex. Not directly. She did it because, after three years of marriage, the fact that they had barely discussed children seemed to be eating away at him. It was clear this wasn't just a marriage of convenience, it was a relationship, and he wanted it all.
"And you?" I asked?
She sighed. "I don't know what I want anymore. I don't know if I ever did. I used to think every woman, deep down, wanted to settle down and have babies, and it was their job to convince the man to go along with it. Now I'm a woman, I'd be the one getting pregnant, giving birth, and the idea is too much for me to handle."
"You've been a woman for years, did you really never think about it?"
"Of course I thought about it. But when Gavin suggested I go off the pill, it got real."
"Do you think this has something to do with... the inn? Your old life?"
She hissed, "I'm not Mark anymore. I don't want to go back to the Inn. I'm done with it. I used to have to repeat that to Jaime-- I used to have to repeat it to myself, even before that."
"I know."
"You never gave up on the idea that you were Todd, though. I like being Ginessa. God, if 20-year-old me heard me saying that, he'd kick my ass... if he wasn't against hitting girls. I just don't want this to change."
"Tell him now isn't the right time."
"I can't do that. Financially, we're amazing. Gavin's union has good benefits. We're in love, the sex is great... well, it's good. I'm hot."
"Yeah, you're hot all right."
"I don't want to be a pregnant lady. I don't want this to ruin my relationship with Gavin. I don't want to raise a kid!"
The more she talked, the more I sensed it actually was about the Inn, but that's just my interpretation. Not that she didn't want to be female, but maybe she felt like if things got too real, she could go back and roll the dice again. A lot of (horribly unprincipled) people seem to use it as an exit strategy to their crappy lives. Ginny's life doesn't seem so crappy. But maybe being an Inn-survivor makes you a bit of a commitment-phobe.
I told her, "Did you know I almost cheated on Hal?"
"What?"
It's true. A few months before Bryan and I went back to the Inn, I met a guy named Jack. Not long after that, Hal's father got sick and for whatever reason he decided to express his stress with excessive fucking. And I went along with it because by that point I had this whole philosophy about putting his needs before my own hang-ups because hey, it's not really my life. But things were getting out of control and I needed something of my own.
I liked Jack, the way a dude admires another dude. The poor guy was heartbroken and he seemed nice, smart, kinda charming. So I sent him Anne-Marie's way -- at the time she was "Julia," struggling to keep the reins on "Kalli." She indulged him in a few dates but as far as I know was not overly into the idea of seeing someone. Since I had a friendly connection to him, he complained to me of his sexual inadequacy. I almost fucked him, just to cheer him up.
I told Ginny that a part of me regretted not doing it, because it would've been at least as honest, if not moreso, than fucking Hal. Hell, it would've been far more honest than fucking Donna. But I didn't, obviously, because I didn't want to fuck up someone else's life.
"But you've got your own life, now," I told her. "This is your life to fuck up. But you can't keep things going. Maybe one of you will relent on the kid thing, or maybe you'll end up divorced. I'm definitely not the one to give you advice."
"I know you're not," she smiled, "That's why I like ya, Todd. You get it."
The issue, of course, was far from resolved, and Ginny is still at my place, crashing on my couch... I have a lot more catching up to do with this blog, so stay tuned. But I've got to go to work right now.
-Todd
Working over the holidays really got me down. My entire life became the retail world. And I like my job, inasmuch as I can enjoy a wageslave retail gig, talking about movies and music to customers who think I'm out to cheat them because I wear the uniform of a big company. It got fairly ridiculous over the holidays and there wasn't much time for me to think about anything else. I sleepwalked through Christmas with my family and made some very obligatory outings on New Year's. More on that later.
There are these kids that come into the store. I don't mean any specific kids, but it's a type of customer we have, teenagers, usually in the first couple years of high school, 15, maybe 16-year-olds. Usually in small groups of mixed boys and girls, usually it looks like at least one couple in the mix, possible their first relationship. That bums me out for whatever reason, seeing these kids with their lives ahead of them, getting the fun of a new romance for the first time in their lives. I miss that. I've thought I was in love a lot of times, but I only really was once, and she's still in Philadelphia teaching high school English.
Todd the former-woman isn't Todd the CD seller. My life has gone on. Bryan's life has. He's seeing someone, although our hours don't sync up to the point where I've met her yet. Maybe it's not serious but I do hear them fucking ever so subtly in the next room. Good for him. I know he's been in love, or at least he once told me he was, but he wasn't loved back, so he doesn't carry a torch. That is a man who knows how to get on with his life. Or maybe he still thinks of himself as a 15-year-old girl pretending as a man. Like I said, other people are a mystery -- Bryan in particular. He never got back to me about his investigation of Crystal the new Alia, beyond the name tracing to a different, more low-rent suburb of Cleveland. I think it was Cleveland Heights.
I was all super-absorbed with my own depression, and then on December 29th, a woman walks into the store. I was busy with a customer so I only caught her from the corner of my eye, but I sensed a familiar appearance. As soon as I had helped that customer, I turned my attention to this woman. She was about 5'6, dressed elegantly but warmly with a sweater, long coat and scarf, the curve of her beautiful round breasts apparent through the layers. Low rise jeans leaving just a hint of skin bare beneath the waist of her sweater -- it was a warm December in Toronto. Leather boots with low heels. Tan, light-brown skin with long brown hair pulled back demurely, small gold earrings, undecorated lips. Big purse slung over her shoulder. She looks at me uncertainly with her big brown eyes and I look back at her to signal that even though she doesn't recognize me I recognize her and I have to interpret she must have come looking for me.
She guesses, "Todd?" as if it'd be embarrassing to be wrong.
"Ginessa," I smirk, overplaying my confidence in our now-mutual recognition, "Long time no, uh, see." I had absolutely no idea how to react because apart from my sparse conversations with Bryan and my usually off-topic conversations with Alia (either Alia) the Inn has not impinged upon my day-to-day life lately.
She melts in the warmness of the situation and hugs me. "Oh my God I am so glad to see you. I'm so glad I was able to find you. When do you get off work?" It was a couple hours yet. She asked if there was a coffee place nearby where we could meet. Of course there was. This is Toronto.
While I continued to work, she browsed the store. I've never mentioned it by name, but I work in a very large CD/Music/Video Game chain store that does not exist in the States. We also sell books, but only if you like books about music or teenage vampires.
Once I clocked out, I took her down Bay Street to a favourite hole-in-the-wall non-chain coffee place I used to go often with Alia. I asked what she was doing in Toronto, she told me, obviously, she'd come to see me.
I say I haven't had the Inn impinge on my day-to-day life that much. That's true. But of course I haven't left it behind. I have had correspondence with Anne-Marie and Alia and through them I get updates on people like Cliff and the new Kalli and Julia. I have also kept a pen pal relationship with Ginessa, whom you'll no doubt remember was once a man named Mark, although that was a lifetime ago for her. I met her once in person, when I was Anne-Marie, back in March. I liked her, I admired how fully she'd seemed to move past her old life. She'd gotten married, although it was technically a green card marriage, she professed she did love her husband Gavin. Our mutual friend was Darren/Jaime, whom I haven't kept in contact with, not through dislike, but I suspect she probably didn't care for me goofing on her.
Ginessa and I were able to bond despite our differences, though, because we had both given in to certain parts of the change. Hers was permanent, mine wasn't -- I hadn't thought it was when we met, and wasn't distressed. Jaime was still stuck in a place where she couldn't seem to admit it if it was. Ginessa, once an aspiring football star, was now a clubbing, would-be actress wife. And it didn't seem to bother her.
Didn't seem to.
She didn't express a lot of discontent in our infrequent letters. She'd vent about Gavin's particular habits, apparently he's a fussy guy (to be a stage director, I guess you'd have to be) and bemoan what she considered to be a sometimes one-sided sex-life. I wondered whether she missed sex from the male perspective the way I did. The female orgasm is nice, but elusive, and there's something really cool about being "in control." Not that women are never in control. Anything can be both ways, and everything is a mystery, like I've said.
But she didn't run away from her husband because of sex. Not directly. She did it because, after three years of marriage, the fact that they had barely discussed children seemed to be eating away at him. It was clear this wasn't just a marriage of convenience, it was a relationship, and he wanted it all.
"And you?" I asked?
She sighed. "I don't know what I want anymore. I don't know if I ever did. I used to think every woman, deep down, wanted to settle down and have babies, and it was their job to convince the man to go along with it. Now I'm a woman, I'd be the one getting pregnant, giving birth, and the idea is too much for me to handle."
"You've been a woman for years, did you really never think about it?"
"Of course I thought about it. But when Gavin suggested I go off the pill, it got real."
"Do you think this has something to do with... the inn? Your old life?"
She hissed, "I'm not Mark anymore. I don't want to go back to the Inn. I'm done with it. I used to have to repeat that to Jaime-- I used to have to repeat it to myself, even before that."
"I know."
"You never gave up on the idea that you were Todd, though. I like being Ginessa. God, if 20-year-old me heard me saying that, he'd kick my ass... if he wasn't against hitting girls. I just don't want this to change."
"Tell him now isn't the right time."
"I can't do that. Financially, we're amazing. Gavin's union has good benefits. We're in love, the sex is great... well, it's good. I'm hot."
"Yeah, you're hot all right."
"I don't want to be a pregnant lady. I don't want this to ruin my relationship with Gavin. I don't want to raise a kid!"
The more she talked, the more I sensed it actually was about the Inn, but that's just my interpretation. Not that she didn't want to be female, but maybe she felt like if things got too real, she could go back and roll the dice again. A lot of (horribly unprincipled) people seem to use it as an exit strategy to their crappy lives. Ginny's life doesn't seem so crappy. But maybe being an Inn-survivor makes you a bit of a commitment-phobe.
I told her, "Did you know I almost cheated on Hal?"
"What?"
It's true. A few months before Bryan and I went back to the Inn, I met a guy named Jack. Not long after that, Hal's father got sick and for whatever reason he decided to express his stress with excessive fucking. And I went along with it because by that point I had this whole philosophy about putting his needs before my own hang-ups because hey, it's not really my life. But things were getting out of control and I needed something of my own.
I liked Jack, the way a dude admires another dude. The poor guy was heartbroken and he seemed nice, smart, kinda charming. So I sent him Anne-Marie's way -- at the time she was "Julia," struggling to keep the reins on "Kalli." She indulged him in a few dates but as far as I know was not overly into the idea of seeing someone. Since I had a friendly connection to him, he complained to me of his sexual inadequacy. I almost fucked him, just to cheer him up.
I told Ginny that a part of me regretted not doing it, because it would've been at least as honest, if not moreso, than fucking Hal. Hell, it would've been far more honest than fucking Donna. But I didn't, obviously, because I didn't want to fuck up someone else's life.
"But you've got your own life, now," I told her. "This is your life to fuck up. But you can't keep things going. Maybe one of you will relent on the kid thing, or maybe you'll end up divorced. I'm definitely not the one to give you advice."
"I know you're not," she smiled, "That's why I like ya, Todd. You get it."
The issue, of course, was far from resolved, and Ginny is still at my place, crashing on my couch... I have a lot more catching up to do with this blog, so stay tuned. But I've got to go to work right now.
-Todd
Sunday, December 06, 2009
Todd: When the Levee Breaks...
Everybody lies, you know. I've thought this for a long time, and I definitely thought about it when I was Anne-Marie. So I probably had a bit of a screwy facial expression when I read Cliff's post about Thanksgiving where he said he tries not to lie to you people. It amused me a bit. Maybe he doesn't think he''s lying, maybe he's trying not to.
Maybe I'm just a suspicious person. Maybe I'm just exhausted from the last few months of mental self-abuse. I haven't been on here in a long while, definitely my longest absence since I started on here last October. At a certain point you gt tired of thinking about the Inn. Plus, I have Alia (don't I?) and we talk about her experience. We talk about it a lot. In a perverse way, it's become sort of a bonding thing. Penises and vaginas for both of us. We have little disagreements about whose situation is better or worse. It's cute in a gender-fucked sort of way.
By and large I have tried to leave Connecticut in Connecticut. I work a stupid job that I had in University and am well-overqualified for (stooging for a CD/DVD store in Toronto) and when I do so I turn off my brain, much the same way as I found myself doing when I had to be Wife/Mother Anne-Marie. I try to offer my advice to my compatriots when I can, but I usually find myself at a loss. A lot of the time I appear offline on MSN so that nobody asks me about it. Alia knows this and accepts it, or she's lying and thinks I'm being a jerk.
Bry takes this to an even greater degree than I have. Even though it's hardly his dream-job, he's thrown himself into his photography gig. He keeps an eye on Crystal, [NOTE: in the first draft of this entry I referred to her as "Alia." Freaky.] we don't hang out with her too much and Bry's been scarce too. For the most part, Inn-related matters are off the table with him. I wondered for a while whether that means he's dealing with it better than me, or worse. Shellshock. Ever read any Hemingway? Check out "Soldier's Home" from In Our Time. Sometimes it's like that. Maybe not so dramatic.
I still have a life and on the odd night when I'm not exhausted I go out. But I'm limited because I don't really wanna talk to girls and I'm not usually with Bry or Crystal. It freaks me out when I am with her because even though I knew from the start she's not really Alia, she has become so at-ease in Alia's skin that it makes me uncomfortable. She doesn't seem to doubt her identity much, confidently does things I told her Alia wouldn't. Drinks things she wouldn't dances like she wouldn't. Sings like she wouldn't. Very nice voice, even though Alia couldn't carry a tune to save her life. I remember playing Rock Band with the kids on Christmas...
After rescheduling plans repeatedly, Bry and I decided to hang out on Saturday night. We went to a strip club. A nice one, of the variety we wouldn't have been able to afford a few years ago. He's being well-paid and took me, I guess, as a treat to his neglected pal. I didn't know why, I never liked those places even before I had been a woman. Talk about lying. The simulation of sex without any intention or feeling of sex. i have fucked many a girl in my day without being in love with her, but to instill those feelings in a dude just to get his money... seemed so wrong to me. Now I think of myself handling Hal Adkisson's penis. "Wake up buddy, let's go for a ride."
That said, I think I get strippers. They've got to get paid like anyone else, they provide a service, a fantasy. There's definitely a market for it, but I was never a part of it. With or without Alia, I usually had someone who was willing to get naked for me, and go a lot further than a lapdance.
I wanted to ask Bryan how, after being who we'd been, seeing and living what we had, he could bring me to a place like that, but that's just Bryan. The one thing you can say about him is that he's got a very healthy love of the female body, not the least was demonstrated during his lesbian phase. We sat at a table away from the stage. Topless waitresses mingled with customers. A blonde took our drink orders. I thought of my fingers running over Anne-Marie's nipples during a private moment.
I've been living like a monk since July, since the incident with Donna. This is my second-longest period of inactivity, right behind the span between July 2008 and January 2009 when I was far from enthusiastic about getting fucked. By the end of this one, I expect it to be far longer than that one. Onstage, women writhe half-nakedly and the thought of having sex with one of them is both appealing and gravely disturbing to me. Didn't stop me from getting hard, though. I'm still a man, thank God.
"I didn't bring you here to gawk, man," Bry laughs, "I brought you here to talk. nobody's going to be able to overhear us." I can barely hear him, the music is so loud, and anyone tempted to eavesdrop would be distracted by the naked girls. This is not an intimate atmosphere.
"What do you think the odds are that Crystal is lying to us?"
The thought had crossed my mind.
He explained, "I've noticed some inconsistencies in her story. She changes her age every so often. She's never shown a picture of her original self, no Facebook or anything." Not unusual for a woman of her supposed age. "No listing for her surname in Shaker Heights, Ohio, where she told us she was from. When I ask, she dodges."
I don't know what it might mean. Maybe she's just trying to build herself up (Apparently Shaker Heights is a rather wealthy area) or maybe she's hiding something. I tell him to look into it, but I'm worried what he might find. I need to know exactly what sort of person is in my girlfriend's body. She knows about the blog but as far as I can tell does not read it.
We talk some more about it and go home. I resist the urge to ask him how he's feeling because I sense that's a dead end. Instead, he asks me about Erica, my baby-mama. I tell him all my attempts to build bridges between me and them have been shot down, mainly by Sean. I suspect he is still bitter about what happened between his girlfriend and my body. It's a shame, too, because he was a pretty nice guy before we fucked each other's girlfriends. And I didn't even get to do any of the fucking.
Then he gets this faraway look in his eyes, matched with a goofy grin, and he says something I can tell he's been refining in his mind for months. "Maybe it would've been a lot less trouble if we never came back."
I nearly choked on my objection. "Guh! What??"
He laughed. "I mean, dude, if you think about it, we came back to a life that was nothing but problems for everyone. Look at you. If Deb-Todd never went back to Connecticut, Alia would still be herself."
"And I'd still be Anne-Marie! And you'd still be Ellie! And as I recall, you weren't dealing with that too well!"
He handwaved that, "I was just being a teenage girl. It happens. I would've gotten over it."
"Sure, uh huh, I believe that. You really would've stayed a girl the rest of your life?"
"Sure. I got used to it real quick--"
"Too quick."
"--I had a pussy, and I was getting pussy."
I tell him, "It wasn't that simple. You're lucky you managed to keep it hidden from Ellie's mom. She would've flipped out."
"Totally, but she was a bitch anyway. I mean, I always felt, as long as you and I had each other to hang out with, we'd be okay. but now? Dude, you never hang out, you're not yourself."
"We didn't exactly go to strip clubs when I was your aunt."
"No, but we had something, man. Now I don't even know who you are. Who are you gonna be if Alia can't come back?"
"Don't say that."
"Well, what if, huh? What if she has to stay as Rob in Philly for the rest of her life! I can't take any more of this shit. You were more yourself when you had tits than you are now. It doesn't matter if my life is awesome now - it's not, but it's okay thanks for asking - I would've stuck around Connecticut and let you be happy to be a mom instead of fucking all this shit up by messing with the natural order of things."
Well, I didn't know what to say to that. I never thought "we turn into girls" was the natural order of things, but Bry did for whatever reason.
Then he went to bed, and we haven't spoken since.
More later, though.
-Todd
Maybe I'm just a suspicious person. Maybe I'm just exhausted from the last few months of mental self-abuse. I haven't been on here in a long while, definitely my longest absence since I started on here last October. At a certain point you gt tired of thinking about the Inn. Plus, I have Alia (don't I?) and we talk about her experience. We talk about it a lot. In a perverse way, it's become sort of a bonding thing. Penises and vaginas for both of us. We have little disagreements about whose situation is better or worse. It's cute in a gender-fucked sort of way.
By and large I have tried to leave Connecticut in Connecticut. I work a stupid job that I had in University and am well-overqualified for (stooging for a CD/DVD store in Toronto) and when I do so I turn off my brain, much the same way as I found myself doing when I had to be Wife/Mother Anne-Marie. I try to offer my advice to my compatriots when I can, but I usually find myself at a loss. A lot of the time I appear offline on MSN so that nobody asks me about it. Alia knows this and accepts it, or she's lying and thinks I'm being a jerk.
Bry takes this to an even greater degree than I have. Even though it's hardly his dream-job, he's thrown himself into his photography gig. He keeps an eye on Crystal, [NOTE: in the first draft of this entry I referred to her as "Alia." Freaky.] we don't hang out with her too much and Bry's been scarce too. For the most part, Inn-related matters are off the table with him. I wondered for a while whether that means he's dealing with it better than me, or worse. Shellshock. Ever read any Hemingway? Check out "Soldier's Home" from In Our Time. Sometimes it's like that. Maybe not so dramatic.
I still have a life and on the odd night when I'm not exhausted I go out. But I'm limited because I don't really wanna talk to girls and I'm not usually with Bry or Crystal. It freaks me out when I am with her because even though I knew from the start she's not really Alia, she has become so at-ease in Alia's skin that it makes me uncomfortable. She doesn't seem to doubt her identity much, confidently does things I told her Alia wouldn't. Drinks things she wouldn't dances like she wouldn't. Sings like she wouldn't. Very nice voice, even though Alia couldn't carry a tune to save her life. I remember playing Rock Band with the kids on Christmas...
After rescheduling plans repeatedly, Bry and I decided to hang out on Saturday night. We went to a strip club. A nice one, of the variety we wouldn't have been able to afford a few years ago. He's being well-paid and took me, I guess, as a treat to his neglected pal. I didn't know why, I never liked those places even before I had been a woman. Talk about lying. The simulation of sex without any intention or feeling of sex. i have fucked many a girl in my day without being in love with her, but to instill those feelings in a dude just to get his money... seemed so wrong to me. Now I think of myself handling Hal Adkisson's penis. "Wake up buddy, let's go for a ride."
That said, I think I get strippers. They've got to get paid like anyone else, they provide a service, a fantasy. There's definitely a market for it, but I was never a part of it. With or without Alia, I usually had someone who was willing to get naked for me, and go a lot further than a lapdance.
I wanted to ask Bryan how, after being who we'd been, seeing and living what we had, he could bring me to a place like that, but that's just Bryan. The one thing you can say about him is that he's got a very healthy love of the female body, not the least was demonstrated during his lesbian phase. We sat at a table away from the stage. Topless waitresses mingled with customers. A blonde took our drink orders. I thought of my fingers running over Anne-Marie's nipples during a private moment.
I've been living like a monk since July, since the incident with Donna. This is my second-longest period of inactivity, right behind the span between July 2008 and January 2009 when I was far from enthusiastic about getting fucked. By the end of this one, I expect it to be far longer than that one. Onstage, women writhe half-nakedly and the thought of having sex with one of them is both appealing and gravely disturbing to me. Didn't stop me from getting hard, though. I'm still a man, thank God.
"I didn't bring you here to gawk, man," Bry laughs, "I brought you here to talk. nobody's going to be able to overhear us." I can barely hear him, the music is so loud, and anyone tempted to eavesdrop would be distracted by the naked girls. This is not an intimate atmosphere.
"What do you think the odds are that Crystal is lying to us?"
The thought had crossed my mind.
He explained, "I've noticed some inconsistencies in her story. She changes her age every so often. She's never shown a picture of her original self, no Facebook or anything." Not unusual for a woman of her supposed age. "No listing for her surname in Shaker Heights, Ohio, where she told us she was from. When I ask, she dodges."
I don't know what it might mean. Maybe she's just trying to build herself up (Apparently Shaker Heights is a rather wealthy area) or maybe she's hiding something. I tell him to look into it, but I'm worried what he might find. I need to know exactly what sort of person is in my girlfriend's body. She knows about the blog but as far as I can tell does not read it.
We talk some more about it and go home. I resist the urge to ask him how he's feeling because I sense that's a dead end. Instead, he asks me about Erica, my baby-mama. I tell him all my attempts to build bridges between me and them have been shot down, mainly by Sean. I suspect he is still bitter about what happened between his girlfriend and my body. It's a shame, too, because he was a pretty nice guy before we fucked each other's girlfriends. And I didn't even get to do any of the fucking.
Then he gets this faraway look in his eyes, matched with a goofy grin, and he says something I can tell he's been refining in his mind for months. "Maybe it would've been a lot less trouble if we never came back."
I nearly choked on my objection. "Guh! What??"
He laughed. "I mean, dude, if you think about it, we came back to a life that was nothing but problems for everyone. Look at you. If Deb-Todd never went back to Connecticut, Alia would still be herself."
"And I'd still be Anne-Marie! And you'd still be Ellie! And as I recall, you weren't dealing with that too well!"
He handwaved that, "I was just being a teenage girl. It happens. I would've gotten over it."
"Sure, uh huh, I believe that. You really would've stayed a girl the rest of your life?"
"Sure. I got used to it real quick--"
"Too quick."
"--I had a pussy, and I was getting pussy."
I tell him, "It wasn't that simple. You're lucky you managed to keep it hidden from Ellie's mom. She would've flipped out."
"Totally, but she was a bitch anyway. I mean, I always felt, as long as you and I had each other to hang out with, we'd be okay. but now? Dude, you never hang out, you're not yourself."
"We didn't exactly go to strip clubs when I was your aunt."
"No, but we had something, man. Now I don't even know who you are. Who are you gonna be if Alia can't come back?"
"Don't say that."
"Well, what if, huh? What if she has to stay as Rob in Philly for the rest of her life! I can't take any more of this shit. You were more yourself when you had tits than you are now. It doesn't matter if my life is awesome now - it's not, but it's okay thanks for asking - I would've stuck around Connecticut and let you be happy to be a mom instead of fucking all this shit up by messing with the natural order of things."
Well, I didn't know what to say to that. I never thought "we turn into girls" was the natural order of things, but Bry did for whatever reason.
Then he went to bed, and we haven't spoken since.
More later, though.
-Todd
Monday, August 10, 2009
Todd: I'm only happy when it rains...
Being back in Toronto has been really bittersweet for me. Even before I became myself again, I knew the experience would be tainted by Alia's presence at the Inn. So my momentary glow of victory feels like it's faded. The city feels a little colder, a little less familiar, even amidst the first serious heatwave I've felt all summer. It's been more humid than hell lately.
For a few days, Bry and I just walked around the city, savoring the sights. Queen, Bathurst, Yonge-Dundas, College and Spadina... the sights of those streetcars crawling along the streets, the dissipating odor of a monthlong garbage strike. We had Crystal along with us a lot of the time, showing her things that, as Alia, she would have to pretend to know about. The sights, the locales. She seemed pretty awestruck by it. I got the feeling she wasn't much of a city person. I figure she was half excited and half scared. After a few days of that, she retreated to the library. What she's been doing all day there is beyond me, but I think she's been using it as a base of operations for... whatever she plans to do with Alia's body.
She's been keeping her distance, but last night there was an absolutely massive thunderstorm. Like it didn't rain enough when I was in Maine, it's followed me back to my hometown.
Well, she showed up at our place, saying that being alone at Alia's place in a strange city had been hard enough, but the thunderstorm was really getting to her and she needed the company. I told her she was more than welcome to spend time with us, she didn't have to be intimidated or anything. We really just want to help her (well, and Alia, but I think that's implied.) We spent the night watching movies (we introduced her to High Fidelity and The Royal Tenenbaums, but decided our go-to movie, The Big Lebowski, might not be her speed.)
She fell asleep on the couch, and then Bry and I went to my room, where we had... a talk.
Basically, he asked me if I was thinking about making a move on Crystal. That was a big no. Admittedly, the way she looks brings up certain feelings for me, but there's something so off-putting about the way she's not Alia. After being around her for a few weeks, the Inn-curse mojo is starting to soften, the way it did when I'd been around Anne-Marie/Julia enough.
The way Bryan sees it, people are going to see me not being with Alia as a sign that she's available, and coming from her (probably sexually frustrated) background, it might not be easy to withstand temptation. Not to mention. he said, how her being a homebody might cramp our style, but exposing her to our lifestyle of awesomeness* might drive her too far into the aforementioned temptation.
*(It's not as awesome as all that, but it's still pretty good, and I've missed it. I've missed staying out late drinking at dive bars so much.)
Things were supposed to get easier once I went back to the Inn. How did I end up in this mess?
When we woke up in the morning, she was gone again. I'm hoping she makes her stays a more regular thing, but I've never been real good at resisting temptation. But she's not her. No matter how much I want her to be.
-Todd
For a few days, Bry and I just walked around the city, savoring the sights. Queen, Bathurst, Yonge-Dundas, College and Spadina... the sights of those streetcars crawling along the streets, the dissipating odor of a monthlong garbage strike. We had Crystal along with us a lot of the time, showing her things that, as Alia, she would have to pretend to know about. The sights, the locales. She seemed pretty awestruck by it. I got the feeling she wasn't much of a city person. I figure she was half excited and half scared. After a few days of that, she retreated to the library. What she's been doing all day there is beyond me, but I think she's been using it as a base of operations for... whatever she plans to do with Alia's body.
She's been keeping her distance, but last night there was an absolutely massive thunderstorm. Like it didn't rain enough when I was in Maine, it's followed me back to my hometown.
Well, she showed up at our place, saying that being alone at Alia's place in a strange city had been hard enough, but the thunderstorm was really getting to her and she needed the company. I told her she was more than welcome to spend time with us, she didn't have to be intimidated or anything. We really just want to help her (well, and Alia, but I think that's implied.) We spent the night watching movies (we introduced her to High Fidelity and The Royal Tenenbaums, but decided our go-to movie, The Big Lebowski, might not be her speed.)
She fell asleep on the couch, and then Bry and I went to my room, where we had... a talk.
Basically, he asked me if I was thinking about making a move on Crystal. That was a big no. Admittedly, the way she looks brings up certain feelings for me, but there's something so off-putting about the way she's not Alia. After being around her for a few weeks, the Inn-curse mojo is starting to soften, the way it did when I'd been around Anne-Marie/Julia enough.
The way Bryan sees it, people are going to see me not being with Alia as a sign that she's available, and coming from her (probably sexually frustrated) background, it might not be easy to withstand temptation. Not to mention. he said, how her being a homebody might cramp our style, but exposing her to our lifestyle of awesomeness* might drive her too far into the aforementioned temptation.
*(It's not as awesome as all that, but it's still pretty good, and I've missed it. I've missed staying out late drinking at dive bars so much.)
Things were supposed to get easier once I went back to the Inn. How did I end up in this mess?
When we woke up in the morning, she was gone again. I'm hoping she makes her stays a more regular thing, but I've never been real good at resisting temptation. But she's not her. No matter how much I want her to be.
-Todd
Sunday, August 02, 2009
Todd: Homecoming King and Queen
Bryan, most of the time, is a pretty open guy. There is, seemingly, nothing he feels uncomfortable talking about. In his natural state, at least.
For a while, early in our transformation, it seemed that was a trait that would carry over. There was nothing about Ellie's body he wouldn't comment on. He was fascianted by his skin, his small frame, his gradually-swelling breasts, and of course, his vagina. Man, was he fascinated by his vagina. At the time, it was irritating to me, because as you can imagine (as any normal man would) I had a certain amount of anxiety about my sudden vaginal equipment. At first, he looked at it - as it essentially was in the long-term - as a no-strings-attached vacation from his usual life and body. He had free domain over this young girl's form and, seemingly, felt no shame about it.
But school changed him. Nothing serves to implant a healthy dose of self-consciousness like a high school. Let alone a private one with uniforms. Suddenly he was forced - not that he might not have chosen, but here he was forced - to wear pleated skirts that rode up his legs, marching up and down halls filled with hormonal guys who would see those legs and follow them up, knowing what was under those skirts thanks to a healthy dose of modern Sex Ed. That shut Bryan up pretty quick. Then when he started seeing Leanne, he got particularly sensitive and I think by then he was just sick of the entire experience. Which I found amusing because we basically took the opposite route, since I had let go of my angst and decided just to live with it after so many months. Of course, I was the one having adult married sex, not just lurid teenage girl-on-girl makeouts.
We were on the road from Niagara to Toronto. It was a hot day. He was shifting in his seat and suddenly he turned to me and said "I can't get comfy. My balls are in the way."
I chuckled and said, "You'll get used to them again, give it time."
He just said, "I don't need time. I love this. This is an awesome problem to be having. Goddamn, Todd, I missed my balls. I never thought I would care that much, but I love having testicles."
"I agree," I said, having rediscovered comfortable positioning days ago.
"And seriously. How many times have you jacked off since we changed back?"
I didn't answer.
He laughed, "Bro, you don't even wanna know the kind of numbers I'm doing lately. It's been, like, a non-stop spank-a-thon all month. You're not gonna put this in the blog, are you?"
"Oh definitely not." Whoops.
"I just can't wait to get back to Toronto and just... get busy, you know? Meet new girls. Maybe call up some old ones. I don't know. I have been gone far too long."
"I hear ya."
About this time, the CN Tower came into view, punctuating all the penis-talk.
The truth is, I didn't know what to do. I still don't. I really want to remain faithful to Alia, even though I don't think she expects me to. I can't see myself getting interested in anyone else at this point. I think the main thing being a wife for a year has done for me - other than taught me how to truly satisfy a woman - is that I suddenly feel ready to settle down and get my life together.
But before I started figuring that out, let me tell you about the house guest we got. Because within minutes of stepping through the door of our wonderful crappy apartment, there she was.
Alia. Or should I say, someone who looks like Alia, feels like Alia, seems to move like Alia... but I have to keep reminding myself, is not.
It's not easy. Maybe the curse is playing its game on my head, but everything she says sounds, to me, exactly the way Alia might say it. When she does something drastically out of character, I have to remind myself "Oh yeah, that's why."
She showed up at our door frantically. "Finally! Alia told me I had to come see you guys, I've been waiting and everything. I would've called but my - Alia's - service was cut off. I had to wait for you guys to come back to the building."
I looked her over. My mind and my... (heart?) had a tug of war, saying "Yes it's Alia/No it's not." Even as she introduced herself.
"My name is Crystal Yeats. I'm a real estate agent from Shaker Heights, Ohio. I'm... I'm so sorry this had to happen, but I was told you guys would understand, that you... you lived through an experience like this."
"Yeah," Bryan nodded, "Todd here was a mom."
I elbowed him, "Well, we were both girls."
"You were a woman. I was a girl."
"You were a bitch!"
"So's your mom!"
Et cetera. By now, Crystal was on the couch rubbing her temples.
"It's just all happened so fast. I mean, I'm glad this isn't too big a change, from what you guys are describing, but you have to understand, I'm... I'm supposed to be a fair bit older than Alia. I'm almost forty."
I asked her what her life was like. Did she have kids, a husband, that kind of thing.
"No," she sighed, "I was with a man for years, and we were engaged, but that was a long time ago and since then, well, I haven't had much luck,. I haven't tried hard. I've been very busy with work, you understand."
I didn't, but I pretended to.
Bryan and I shared a knowing look. A single, middle-aged woman with no real attachments. This sounded distressingly like one of those scenarios that could end badly. We made a pact that whatever happens, we had to ensure that we get my Alia back where she belongs.
Luckily, it doesn't seem to be too much of a problem. Crystal seems to have a very mild temperament. She said she's more worried about inconveniencing us than anything else. I told her we'd been inconvenienced for a year by not having penises, we're just glad to be back in our old apartment.
"Well," she said, "I just want to do what's right."
I'd say that this will make the year much easier, but the truth is... who's to say what's right? All I need to do is make sure she doesn't wind up in the hospital or jail or something all year. I do feel a tad guilty about the idea that we'll be sending this woman back to what sounds like a pretty boring life (by her own admission she spent many a Saturday night at bingo.) But it's just available enough that some weirdo might have gotten ahold of her life and is looking forward to staying a single almost-40-year-old real estate agent in Shaker Heights, Ohio.
No matter how you slice it, there's nothing easy about the life of an inn victim at all.
-Todd
For a while, early in our transformation, it seemed that was a trait that would carry over. There was nothing about Ellie's body he wouldn't comment on. He was fascianted by his skin, his small frame, his gradually-swelling breasts, and of course, his vagina. Man, was he fascinated by his vagina. At the time, it was irritating to me, because as you can imagine (as any normal man would) I had a certain amount of anxiety about my sudden vaginal equipment. At first, he looked at it - as it essentially was in the long-term - as a no-strings-attached vacation from his usual life and body. He had free domain over this young girl's form and, seemingly, felt no shame about it.
But school changed him. Nothing serves to implant a healthy dose of self-consciousness like a high school. Let alone a private one with uniforms. Suddenly he was forced - not that he might not have chosen, but here he was forced - to wear pleated skirts that rode up his legs, marching up and down halls filled with hormonal guys who would see those legs and follow them up, knowing what was under those skirts thanks to a healthy dose of modern Sex Ed. That shut Bryan up pretty quick. Then when he started seeing Leanne, he got particularly sensitive and I think by then he was just sick of the entire experience. Which I found amusing because we basically took the opposite route, since I had let go of my angst and decided just to live with it after so many months. Of course, I was the one having adult married sex, not just lurid teenage girl-on-girl makeouts.
We were on the road from Niagara to Toronto. It was a hot day. He was shifting in his seat and suddenly he turned to me and said "I can't get comfy. My balls are in the way."
I chuckled and said, "You'll get used to them again, give it time."
He just said, "I don't need time. I love this. This is an awesome problem to be having. Goddamn, Todd, I missed my balls. I never thought I would care that much, but I love having testicles."
"I agree," I said, having rediscovered comfortable positioning days ago.
"And seriously. How many times have you jacked off since we changed back?"
I didn't answer.
He laughed, "Bro, you don't even wanna know the kind of numbers I'm doing lately. It's been, like, a non-stop spank-a-thon all month. You're not gonna put this in the blog, are you?"
"Oh definitely not." Whoops.
"I just can't wait to get back to Toronto and just... get busy, you know? Meet new girls. Maybe call up some old ones. I don't know. I have been gone far too long."
"I hear ya."
About this time, the CN Tower came into view, punctuating all the penis-talk.
The truth is, I didn't know what to do. I still don't. I really want to remain faithful to Alia, even though I don't think she expects me to. I can't see myself getting interested in anyone else at this point. I think the main thing being a wife for a year has done for me - other than taught me how to truly satisfy a woman - is that I suddenly feel ready to settle down and get my life together.
But before I started figuring that out, let me tell you about the house guest we got. Because within minutes of stepping through the door of our wonderful crappy apartment, there she was.
Alia. Or should I say, someone who looks like Alia, feels like Alia, seems to move like Alia... but I have to keep reminding myself, is not.
It's not easy. Maybe the curse is playing its game on my head, but everything she says sounds, to me, exactly the way Alia might say it. When she does something drastically out of character, I have to remind myself "Oh yeah, that's why."
She showed up at our door frantically. "Finally! Alia told me I had to come see you guys, I've been waiting and everything. I would've called but my - Alia's - service was cut off. I had to wait for you guys to come back to the building."
I looked her over. My mind and my... (heart?) had a tug of war, saying "Yes it's Alia/No it's not." Even as she introduced herself.
"My name is Crystal Yeats. I'm a real estate agent from Shaker Heights, Ohio. I'm... I'm so sorry this had to happen, but I was told you guys would understand, that you... you lived through an experience like this."
"Yeah," Bryan nodded, "Todd here was a mom."
I elbowed him, "Well, we were both girls."
"You were a woman. I was a girl."
"You were a bitch!"
"So's your mom!"
Et cetera. By now, Crystal was on the couch rubbing her temples.
"It's just all happened so fast. I mean, I'm glad this isn't too big a change, from what you guys are describing, but you have to understand, I'm... I'm supposed to be a fair bit older than Alia. I'm almost forty."
I asked her what her life was like. Did she have kids, a husband, that kind of thing.
"No," she sighed, "I was with a man for years, and we were engaged, but that was a long time ago and since then, well, I haven't had much luck,. I haven't tried hard. I've been very busy with work, you understand."
I didn't, but I pretended to.
Bryan and I shared a knowing look. A single, middle-aged woman with no real attachments. This sounded distressingly like one of those scenarios that could end badly. We made a pact that whatever happens, we had to ensure that we get my Alia back where she belongs.
Luckily, it doesn't seem to be too much of a problem. Crystal seems to have a very mild temperament. She said she's more worried about inconveniencing us than anything else. I told her we'd been inconvenienced for a year by not having penises, we're just glad to be back in our old apartment.
"Well," she said, "I just want to do what's right."
I'd say that this will make the year much easier, but the truth is... who's to say what's right? All I need to do is make sure she doesn't wind up in the hospital or jail or something all year. I do feel a tad guilty about the idea that we'll be sending this woman back to what sounds like a pretty boring life (by her own admission she spent many a Saturday night at bingo.) But it's just available enough that some weirdo might have gotten ahold of her life and is looking forward to staying a single almost-40-year-old real estate agent in Shaker Heights, Ohio.
No matter how you slice it, there's nothing easy about the life of an inn victim at all.
-Todd
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Alia: Let's try this
Oh boy. Where do I begin? Can I start by saying how much I already regret coming out here?
My name is Alia Frye. I'm a 25-year-old grad student from Toronto. I'm here in Maine because... well, it's complicated. I guess you could say I'm looking for someone. Or maybe some answers.
I don't wanna get too personal. I'm not one to write about myself, I had a livejournal for a while when I was in high school, but it was the kinda thing you grow out of. But I'm a different person now I guess. Grown up a lot. I'm not that shy girl I was back then, so let's try this. I'll open up.
When I first got to university (yes, we're going that far back) I was really intimidated. I was still shaking off all the social awkwardness from high school, trying to figure out who I wanted to be, away from my parents for the first time. The first person I met who really had an impact was a boy named Todd. I met him halfway through first semester.
He was the first guy I ever met who seemed to see something in me. I never knew what, because I was so used to people seeing me as "the smart girl" or "the shy girl." It probably has something to do with race. I don't know if you can tell based on my name, but I'm half Pakistani. Not that religion was a big thing in my household, I was just raised like a regular person, only vaguely aware how people saw me.
Well, Todd told me he didn't see the "Brown girl," just the girl, which was sweet, I thought. Not that I'm not proud of who I am... jeez now I'm rambling. Anyway, Todd. He was this, like, cool hipster guy with shaggy hair and a beard and he played guitar, and I never kne anyone like that who wanted to have anything to do with me. And he was smart too, way smarter than he looked, and probably even smarter than he knew. He had surprising self-confidence issues, which is one of the things we fought about when we dated, which we did off and on for years. And eventually I became the "whole other person" I mentioned, because of the influence Todd and his friends had on me. Oh, and my parents really didn't like him, especially after he dropped out.
Maybe we were never a good couple. Kind of mismatched. That doesn't excuse any of the things he did to me, or any of the things I did to him. The last time we broke up, it seemed like it was for real. I mean, he left the fucking country, clearly with the intention of hooking up with every skank on the East coast of the States. I didn't tell him at the time, but it hurt to think I really lost him. That was last year, about this time.
So a few weeks before he's due to come back, I got this call from him, like he's had a revelation about us, and he wants to try again. And I was feeling so vulnerable that I agreed, and I was so happy we were getting together. So he says "the last thing I want to do is go see this band in Maine, so Bryan (his friend) and I are gonna find a place to shake up there." And it was a funny coincidence that my parents were going to go to Maine, but they couldn't because of a minor injury, so it all worked out.
And then they get back, weeks later than expected -- not unusual I guess -- seeming really shellshocked from the trip. And I guess it made sense, they'd been away for a while, it must've taken a lot out of them, but they were really, really disoriented. And when I asked Todd about our little conversation, he said he didn't remember -- although for a while he acted like he did -- and I thought "Oh that makes sense, you were probably completely smashed." How stupid was I for thinking he was sincere? He never really wanted to get back with me. It's like he conned me into getting him that room in Maine without even realizing he did it.
So while I'm at home crying my damn eyes out because I got my hopes up, Todd and Bryan are just... acting strange. I mean, I never knew what to expect from those guys but this was a real shocker. They started kinda... getting their act together. Their place was nicer. They got better jobs, dressed nicer. As much as I loved the whole outlaw thing, this was... it was something else. Really impressive.
But it was clear he didn't really want me anymore. It really was over. Something about that trip had changed them. I tried to be their friend but it was so... wrong. I'm all for maturity, but we're in our 20's. It's time to enjoy life, to go out late and sleep in. Talk about frustration -- when I'm the one trying to drag them out to the bar?
So I started seeing other people, more seriously than I ever had before, and paying less attention to Todd. He didn't seem to mind.
It didn't work out. At least, it hasn't yet.
A while back, Todd told me he was going back to Maine, and he wanted to talk with me once he got back. But I said "screw that noise." I've got some money, I've got time. He wants a talk? I'm here to talk.
And he's nowhere to be found. The Honda he bought after he got back last year is, but he's not. Well, at least I've been getting some good reading done during the deluge. Maybe I can get my mind off feeling like a needy ex-girlfriend, if it stops raining eventually.
Oh yes, and a bonus feature of this wonderful Inn? All the creepy people you could ever hope for. There's the happy Asian redneck who helped me with my bags, the MILF who gave me the evil eye when she walked by my room and heard me playing the Ramones, and worst of all... the boy next door.
I passed this dude with his collar up and Oakley shades... surprisingly enough no faux-hawk... and I mention to him "Oh I see you've got a great view of the Ocean from your room. I was kind of hoping for one. Would you mind switching?" He says "Sure thing... if you don't mind spending the night with me." Then he points to his crotch. Has that move ever worked on anybody? Pathetic. I actually feel sorry for the guy. I'll take my view of the road, thanks very much Cliff.
So that's my story. I'll probably just chill here for a few more days, then head back. Nice opening up... I guess.
-Alia
My name is Alia Frye. I'm a 25-year-old grad student from Toronto. I'm here in Maine because... well, it's complicated. I guess you could say I'm looking for someone. Or maybe some answers.
I don't wanna get too personal. I'm not one to write about myself, I had a livejournal for a while when I was in high school, but it was the kinda thing you grow out of. But I'm a different person now I guess. Grown up a lot. I'm not that shy girl I was back then, so let's try this. I'll open up.
When I first got to university (yes, we're going that far back) I was really intimidated. I was still shaking off all the social awkwardness from high school, trying to figure out who I wanted to be, away from my parents for the first time. The first person I met who really had an impact was a boy named Todd. I met him halfway through first semester.
He was the first guy I ever met who seemed to see something in me. I never knew what, because I was so used to people seeing me as "the smart girl" or "the shy girl." It probably has something to do with race. I don't know if you can tell based on my name, but I'm half Pakistani. Not that religion was a big thing in my household, I was just raised like a regular person, only vaguely aware how people saw me.
Well, Todd told me he didn't see the "Brown girl," just the girl, which was sweet, I thought. Not that I'm not proud of who I am... jeez now I'm rambling. Anyway, Todd. He was this, like, cool hipster guy with shaggy hair and a beard and he played guitar, and I never kne anyone like that who wanted to have anything to do with me. And he was smart too, way smarter than he looked, and probably even smarter than he knew. He had surprising self-confidence issues, which is one of the things we fought about when we dated, which we did off and on for years. And eventually I became the "whole other person" I mentioned, because of the influence Todd and his friends had on me. Oh, and my parents really didn't like him, especially after he dropped out.
Maybe we were never a good couple. Kind of mismatched. That doesn't excuse any of the things he did to me, or any of the things I did to him. The last time we broke up, it seemed like it was for real. I mean, he left the fucking country, clearly with the intention of hooking up with every skank on the East coast of the States. I didn't tell him at the time, but it hurt to think I really lost him. That was last year, about this time.
So a few weeks before he's due to come back, I got this call from him, like he's had a revelation about us, and he wants to try again. And I was feeling so vulnerable that I agreed, and I was so happy we were getting together. So he says "the last thing I want to do is go see this band in Maine, so Bryan (his friend) and I are gonna find a place to shake up there." And it was a funny coincidence that my parents were going to go to Maine, but they couldn't because of a minor injury, so it all worked out.
And then they get back, weeks later than expected -- not unusual I guess -- seeming really shellshocked from the trip. And I guess it made sense, they'd been away for a while, it must've taken a lot out of them, but they were really, really disoriented. And when I asked Todd about our little conversation, he said he didn't remember -- although for a while he acted like he did -- and I thought "Oh that makes sense, you were probably completely smashed." How stupid was I for thinking he was sincere? He never really wanted to get back with me. It's like he conned me into getting him that room in Maine without even realizing he did it.
So while I'm at home crying my damn eyes out because I got my hopes up, Todd and Bryan are just... acting strange. I mean, I never knew what to expect from those guys but this was a real shocker. They started kinda... getting their act together. Their place was nicer. They got better jobs, dressed nicer. As much as I loved the whole outlaw thing, this was... it was something else. Really impressive.
But it was clear he didn't really want me anymore. It really was over. Something about that trip had changed them. I tried to be their friend but it was so... wrong. I'm all for maturity, but we're in our 20's. It's time to enjoy life, to go out late and sleep in. Talk about frustration -- when I'm the one trying to drag them out to the bar?
So I started seeing other people, more seriously than I ever had before, and paying less attention to Todd. He didn't seem to mind.
It didn't work out. At least, it hasn't yet.
A while back, Todd told me he was going back to Maine, and he wanted to talk with me once he got back. But I said "screw that noise." I've got some money, I've got time. He wants a talk? I'm here to talk.
And he's nowhere to be found. The Honda he bought after he got back last year is, but he's not. Well, at least I've been getting some good reading done during the deluge. Maybe I can get my mind off feeling like a needy ex-girlfriend, if it stops raining eventually.
Oh yes, and a bonus feature of this wonderful Inn? All the creepy people you could ever hope for. There's the happy Asian redneck who helped me with my bags, the MILF who gave me the evil eye when she walked by my room and heard me playing the Ramones, and worst of all... the boy next door.
I passed this dude with his collar up and Oakley shades... surprisingly enough no faux-hawk... and I mention to him "Oh I see you've got a great view of the Ocean from your room. I was kind of hoping for one. Would you mind switching?" He says "Sure thing... if you don't mind spending the night with me." Then he points to his crotch. Has that move ever worked on anybody? Pathetic. I actually feel sorry for the guy. I'll take my view of the road, thanks very much Cliff.
So that's my story. I'll probably just chill here for a few more days, then head back. Nice opening up... I guess.
-Alia
Monday, October 06, 2008
Todd/A.M.: How I Spent My Summer Vacation...
I got in this morning and decided I had time to write. In fact, I don't seem to have anything but time right now, so I might as well write while I have something to say. I guess you could say I'm back by popular demand.
So I explained already how Bryan and I were traveling up the East coast of the States all summer, basically just looking for shows and ho's. I was writing pretty constantly the entire time on my laptop (which I obviously no longer have) and if nothing had happened in July, I still would've had a massive cache of awesome stories. And now as it is, none of them seem so important. So yeah, one time we survived a seemingly Skynyrd-style trip in a Cessna that was the scariest thing I had ever done, but after the inn, even that seemed minor.
It wasn't our idea to stay at the inn. It was Alia's. We were in New York City in June trying to figure out how to get to Maine in time for this concert a couple weeks later, a blues-rock combo called Slowhead was playing with a Montreal fusion band we'd heard a lot about called Les Mondes opening for them. Obviously we had no idea how to get to Maine, or where we would stay once we got there.
Alia was a girlfriend of mine back in Toronto. Things had always been complicated and before the trip she and I had kinda sorta had a major fight, and maybe possibly broke up. But I was feeling guiltier and guiltier about all the chicks I was meeting along the road, because I kept thinking of her, and by the time we hit New Jersey (because we couldn't stay in New York, we were in Secaucus) I needed to call her. We had a long conversation where we just laid it out, there was a lot of "I forgive you, I love you, I don't know if I can trust you." We were reconciling when I mentioned the last stop on the trip, Maine, and the question mark of our arrangements.
"That's crazy," she laughed, "My parents were going to have their second honeymoon in Maine, but dad twisted his ankle." They had reservations at this inn that they couldn't, or wouldn't, or didn't want to give up (I never asked) and hey, what an amazing coincidence, right?
I'm laughing about it now, out of amusement, bitterness and amazement. I mean, I keep wondering what would've happened if Alia's parents stayed the Inn, and we didn't? They'd be here, and I'd be... I'd be home with their daughter.
Hm. Sorry, I... got off track there.
So flash forward. It's July and Bry and I manage to get to this fruity looking Inn, reminds me of a bed and breakfast or something. Kinda Victorian or Edwardian, but I'm not up on my architecture so what do I know? It just looks like the kind of place a couple or maybe a family would stay. Not two guys in AC/DC and Sex Pistols shirts. But whatever. We haul our luggage up to our room trying to avoid making eye contact with the other tenants. We didn't want any of them to be able to identify us if something were to go awry (little did we know.)
As we were putting our stuff away, we found some bags in the closet. They were mostly packed. I was going to suggest we take them to the lost and found or something but Bryan, always the clever one, suggested we go pawn all the contents for weed and travel money. I told him that wasn't fair, there may be people coming back for this stuff. Since we weren't running low on funds he agreed (reluctantly) but said that if nobody came by to claim it by the time we checked out, it was ours to pawn. "Whatever," I said. In retrospect, a close call. I thought I noticed him going through the bags at one point but he wouldn't say what he'd seen.
We busied ourselves for a couple days before the Slowhead show by going out to local drinking established and getting faced. Out of courtesy, the one who stood the best chance of getting laid (Bryan, given my new-found sense of remorse) got the room, while the other was to find other accommodations if possible (or, you know, hold a pillow over his ears.) Again, I wonder, what if this had all gone down while one of us (me) was out of the inn? But again I'm reminded by my surroundings... it happened the way it happened, and that's the way it happened. (Still, I'll share some of those stories later because one of them might be important.)
The last night before, whatever it was, was the night of the show. the bands were both great but the action was not, so we both just came home and crashed. While Bry snoozed, I did a little bit of writing about the show and Maine before finally just passing out. It was late and I was feeling ill (I thought it was allergies at the time.)
I was groggy when I woke up. People were making noise outside and I was not happy. I was probably hung over, although for all I know it was the residual effect (look at me, gettin all scientific) and the transformation may have cleansed my system. And if that's the case, I feel bad for the person who inherited that. I felt pretty damn hung over anyway.
The first thing I sensed, before I even opened my eyes and while I was feeling zombified, was the smoke. Bry loves the ganj... okay we both do... but wake and bake wasn't really our style. Without unburying my face from the pillow, I muttered, "Dude go sleep."
I heard a little unfamilar voice respond, "Todd, you up man?"
My first thought was to look up at the source, and the only thing going through my head was "Oh my God, look at her. Tell me Bryan didn't bring her here after I fell asleep, and then give her weed."
"Where's Bryan?" I said. Voice felt hoarse. I cleared my throat to try to correct it, but again it came out in the same weird tone, "Who are you?"
She sat next to me on the bed. She was young, like 14, with long golden locks and a ridiculously slender frame. She was wearing glasses and the large Slowhead tee Bry had bought the night before, and it looked like nothing else. Her little knees angled inward. My eyes bulged when she looked at me like a delighted psycho and said "Dude, it's me. It's us. You're really gonna wanna see this." The joint was still smoking in the ashtray, by the window. She repeated, "I'm Bryan."
I know, okay, it sounds like a point of departure from all the stories on here, but let me explain. Bryan has always been really into psychics and aliens and Sasquatch and stuff. There were people freaking out, howling in panic right outside our door, and he was just sitting there, toking up and laughing. To him, this was vindication, and somehow, I guess mentally, this shielded him from absolute confusion and terror. Or maybe it was the weed.
Whatever it was, the cogs already appeared to have been turning in that little head of his for some time, and he was confident I'd be as thrilled as he was. I was not so much.
So this girl - who says she's Bryan - grabs me by the shoulders and tries to get a good look at me, and I guess I'm just staring back like "What the hell are you looking at?" and she repeats, "Todd, get a look at yourself man, we've been... transformed!"
And this moment of absolute belief washes over me as I look in her little blue eyes, that my 6'1 lanky bearded friend and stepcousin (my aunt married his dad) had been shrunk and de-aged and, and, and... girlified! Absurd as it sounded to my ears, I was willing to listen.
"Transformed..." I whispered. "Into... what?"
And she smirked impishly at me and moves her hands from my shoulders to my chest and starts squeezing. A shock of - not pain, not pleasure, but new sensation - rushed through me. I felt my throat close up. I jumped back.
"No--" I gasped.
"Yeah," she grinned.
I sat up straight and they hung, unfettered. I put my trembling right hand over my left breast. It felt like every breast I've ever felt, but now it was my own and that made it feel different and wrong and yet absolutely real.
I curled up into a ball, sitting upright, arms around legs, knees up to chest, lip trembling. "I'm... I'm not..."
"You are," she nodded, matter-of-factly.
I just kept shaking my head, muttering "No, no, I don't believe it."
She looked at me and twisted her mouth into this little sneer - the same facial gesture Bryan would use when trying to convince me of something.
"Whatever dude," she shrugged, "Don't believe it, but you'll figure it out eventually." Then she slipped the large black tee over her head. I averted my eyes but could see from even a moment's glance she was utterly nude. All the thoughts and suspicions were starting to converge on me, and confronted with this skinny, pale, hairless naked 14-year-old strutting about the room I felt... ill.
I clenched my eyes shut and dashed toward the bathroom. I opened them only long enough to find the toilet.
Blaughh. I hadn't vomitted in over a year and a half. I wiped my mouth and grabbed the counter. Slowly, slowly I peeked over it, into the mirror. My eyes began to well up.
It was a long moment before I finally spoke. "Bryan..." I said, gazing at the foreign reflection, "What... the fuck... is going on?"
She appeared in the doorway, now dressed in a white undershirt and panties. She hard her arms folded across her torso, lips pursed, nodding.
"I've got some of it worked out, but let's just take a moment and get your bearings, okay?"
My face felt warm with fear and embarrassment. I looked at her. She looked confident. I looked back at my reflection - that person did not.
I swept some hair across my forehead and perched it behind my ear. It was brown, although there was some kind of dying because it went darker and more reddish in places, so I guessed highlights. It was about the length of a bob. I looked in the eyes - my eyes. All the basic facial features seemed in place, ears, mouth, nose, chin... features I'd been looking at my whole life, just now altered. I can't even put my finger on it. It's not really a matter of "my nose is smaller now, my lips are bigger" (although they are) because they're just... features. I opened my mouth and looked inside - for what reason I have no idea. The girl snickered.
"Are you stoned?" She giggled, "I mean... 'cause I am."
"Do you really think that's a good idea?" I snapped.
She shrugged, "Can you think of a better reason in the entire world?"
I pouted a bit, then turned back to the mirror. I lifted my chin. The neck was smooth. My eyes drifted lower on the reflection. The Dark Knight tee I'd worn to bed was being stretched in one very unusual location, but hung way loose over my torso.
I closed my eyes again and sighed. "I'm... a girl."
"Actually," she said with that annoyingly resolved pixie tone, "Give a closer look. I'm a girl. You are a woman."
I re-opened my eyes. She was right. There weren't many obvious clues at first, but my skin wasn't as youthful as hers, there were a few signs of aging. I ran my fingers through my hair again and took a deep breath. "Will you just tell me what's going on?"
She called me over to the bed, where the joint was resting. I crossed the room, suddenly aware of this weird, penisless feeling. I sat next to her.
I looked squarely at her. "Swear to me you are seriously Bryan."
"Only if you promise you're definitely Todd."
I sighed. I still felt like Todd, that was for sure. She passed me the roach. I hesitated before taking a nice big toke.
We heard a muffled scream outside the door, "OH GOD NO!'
She ignored it and said, "Let me tell you what I know."
And so she explained what she had already figured out about the Inn. Everyone staying there was cursed to take the bodies of the previous tenants and so on, so forth. The letters, which Bryan had actually found a few days earlier but been unable to make sense of - like some weird, frantically-written fairytale/biography - but as soon as the transformation happened it all became clear. Or at least, as clear as these people were able to make it.
The woman - me - was Anne Marie Adkisson. The girl was not her daughter, but niece by marriage, Elyssa McClay. They had been on a fourth of July trip and, well, now they were somewhere else (I won't say where just now.)
"So what then?" I asked, "We go to Toronto and try to convince people?"
"No, see, when I tried to read the letters before, it just flew over my head. There's no way to explain it to someone until it happens. We can't go home, dude. We have to go to Connecticut."
I've never been the type of guy who liked "having" to do anything. But now, I guess I'm not any type of guy anymore so how could I possibly argue? I took another hit.
"All I wanted was to see Slowhead," I muttered.
Maybe I'm leaving some stuff out. Maybe it took longer for me to believe, or we went back and forth longer, but it's been a while and my memory has settled on this as the official version. What's important, of course, is there.
More later.
-Todd, aka Anne Marie
So I explained already how Bryan and I were traveling up the East coast of the States all summer, basically just looking for shows and ho's. I was writing pretty constantly the entire time on my laptop (which I obviously no longer have) and if nothing had happened in July, I still would've had a massive cache of awesome stories. And now as it is, none of them seem so important. So yeah, one time we survived a seemingly Skynyrd-style trip in a Cessna that was the scariest thing I had ever done, but after the inn, even that seemed minor.
It wasn't our idea to stay at the inn. It was Alia's. We were in New York City in June trying to figure out how to get to Maine in time for this concert a couple weeks later, a blues-rock combo called Slowhead was playing with a Montreal fusion band we'd heard a lot about called Les Mondes opening for them. Obviously we had no idea how to get to Maine, or where we would stay once we got there.
Alia was a girlfriend of mine back in Toronto. Things had always been complicated and before the trip she and I had kinda sorta had a major fight, and maybe possibly broke up. But I was feeling guiltier and guiltier about all the chicks I was meeting along the road, because I kept thinking of her, and by the time we hit New Jersey (because we couldn't stay in New York, we were in Secaucus) I needed to call her. We had a long conversation where we just laid it out, there was a lot of "I forgive you, I love you, I don't know if I can trust you." We were reconciling when I mentioned the last stop on the trip, Maine, and the question mark of our arrangements.
"That's crazy," she laughed, "My parents were going to have their second honeymoon in Maine, but dad twisted his ankle." They had reservations at this inn that they couldn't, or wouldn't, or didn't want to give up (I never asked) and hey, what an amazing coincidence, right?
I'm laughing about it now, out of amusement, bitterness and amazement. I mean, I keep wondering what would've happened if Alia's parents stayed the Inn, and we didn't? They'd be here, and I'd be... I'd be home with their daughter.
Hm. Sorry, I... got off track there.
So flash forward. It's July and Bry and I manage to get to this fruity looking Inn, reminds me of a bed and breakfast or something. Kinda Victorian or Edwardian, but I'm not up on my architecture so what do I know? It just looks like the kind of place a couple or maybe a family would stay. Not two guys in AC/DC and Sex Pistols shirts. But whatever. We haul our luggage up to our room trying to avoid making eye contact with the other tenants. We didn't want any of them to be able to identify us if something were to go awry (little did we know.)
As we were putting our stuff away, we found some bags in the closet. They were mostly packed. I was going to suggest we take them to the lost and found or something but Bryan, always the clever one, suggested we go pawn all the contents for weed and travel money. I told him that wasn't fair, there may be people coming back for this stuff. Since we weren't running low on funds he agreed (reluctantly) but said that if nobody came by to claim it by the time we checked out, it was ours to pawn. "Whatever," I said. In retrospect, a close call. I thought I noticed him going through the bags at one point but he wouldn't say what he'd seen.
We busied ourselves for a couple days before the Slowhead show by going out to local drinking established and getting faced. Out of courtesy, the one who stood the best chance of getting laid (Bryan, given my new-found sense of remorse) got the room, while the other was to find other accommodations if possible (or, you know, hold a pillow over his ears.) Again, I wonder, what if this had all gone down while one of us (me) was out of the inn? But again I'm reminded by my surroundings... it happened the way it happened, and that's the way it happened. (Still, I'll share some of those stories later because one of them might be important.)
The last night before, whatever it was, was the night of the show. the bands were both great but the action was not, so we both just came home and crashed. While Bry snoozed, I did a little bit of writing about the show and Maine before finally just passing out. It was late and I was feeling ill (I thought it was allergies at the time.)
I was groggy when I woke up. People were making noise outside and I was not happy. I was probably hung over, although for all I know it was the residual effect (look at me, gettin all scientific) and the transformation may have cleansed my system. And if that's the case, I feel bad for the person who inherited that. I felt pretty damn hung over anyway.
The first thing I sensed, before I even opened my eyes and while I was feeling zombified, was the smoke. Bry loves the ganj... okay we both do... but wake and bake wasn't really our style. Without unburying my face from the pillow, I muttered, "Dude go sleep."
I heard a little unfamilar voice respond, "Todd, you up man?"
My first thought was to look up at the source, and the only thing going through my head was "Oh my God, look at her. Tell me Bryan didn't bring her here after I fell asleep, and then give her weed."
"Where's Bryan?" I said. Voice felt hoarse. I cleared my throat to try to correct it, but again it came out in the same weird tone, "Who are you?"
She sat next to me on the bed. She was young, like 14, with long golden locks and a ridiculously slender frame. She was wearing glasses and the large Slowhead tee Bry had bought the night before, and it looked like nothing else. Her little knees angled inward. My eyes bulged when she looked at me like a delighted psycho and said "Dude, it's me. It's us. You're really gonna wanna see this." The joint was still smoking in the ashtray, by the window. She repeated, "I'm Bryan."
I know, okay, it sounds like a point of departure from all the stories on here, but let me explain. Bryan has always been really into psychics and aliens and Sasquatch and stuff. There were people freaking out, howling in panic right outside our door, and he was just sitting there, toking up and laughing. To him, this was vindication, and somehow, I guess mentally, this shielded him from absolute confusion and terror. Or maybe it was the weed.
Whatever it was, the cogs already appeared to have been turning in that little head of his for some time, and he was confident I'd be as thrilled as he was. I was not so much.
So this girl - who says she's Bryan - grabs me by the shoulders and tries to get a good look at me, and I guess I'm just staring back like "What the hell are you looking at?" and she repeats, "Todd, get a look at yourself man, we've been... transformed!"
And this moment of absolute belief washes over me as I look in her little blue eyes, that my 6'1 lanky bearded friend and stepcousin (my aunt married his dad) had been shrunk and de-aged and, and, and... girlified! Absurd as it sounded to my ears, I was willing to listen.
"Transformed..." I whispered. "Into... what?"
And she smirked impishly at me and moves her hands from my shoulders to my chest and starts squeezing. A shock of - not pain, not pleasure, but new sensation - rushed through me. I felt my throat close up. I jumped back.
"No--" I gasped.
"Yeah," she grinned.
I sat up straight and they hung, unfettered. I put my trembling right hand over my left breast. It felt like every breast I've ever felt, but now it was my own and that made it feel different and wrong and yet absolutely real.
I curled up into a ball, sitting upright, arms around legs, knees up to chest, lip trembling. "I'm... I'm not..."
"You are," she nodded, matter-of-factly.
I just kept shaking my head, muttering "No, no, I don't believe it."
She looked at me and twisted her mouth into this little sneer - the same facial gesture Bryan would use when trying to convince me of something.
"Whatever dude," she shrugged, "Don't believe it, but you'll figure it out eventually." Then she slipped the large black tee over her head. I averted my eyes but could see from even a moment's glance she was utterly nude. All the thoughts and suspicions were starting to converge on me, and confronted with this skinny, pale, hairless naked 14-year-old strutting about the room I felt... ill.
I clenched my eyes shut and dashed toward the bathroom. I opened them only long enough to find the toilet.
Blaughh. I hadn't vomitted in over a year and a half. I wiped my mouth and grabbed the counter. Slowly, slowly I peeked over it, into the mirror. My eyes began to well up.
It was a long moment before I finally spoke. "Bryan..." I said, gazing at the foreign reflection, "What... the fuck... is going on?"
She appeared in the doorway, now dressed in a white undershirt and panties. She hard her arms folded across her torso, lips pursed, nodding.
"I've got some of it worked out, but let's just take a moment and get your bearings, okay?"
My face felt warm with fear and embarrassment. I looked at her. She looked confident. I looked back at my reflection - that person did not.
I swept some hair across my forehead and perched it behind my ear. It was brown, although there was some kind of dying because it went darker and more reddish in places, so I guessed highlights. It was about the length of a bob. I looked in the eyes - my eyes. All the basic facial features seemed in place, ears, mouth, nose, chin... features I'd been looking at my whole life, just now altered. I can't even put my finger on it. It's not really a matter of "my nose is smaller now, my lips are bigger" (although they are) because they're just... features. I opened my mouth and looked inside - for what reason I have no idea. The girl snickered.
"Are you stoned?" She giggled, "I mean... 'cause I am."
"Do you really think that's a good idea?" I snapped.
She shrugged, "Can you think of a better reason in the entire world?"
I pouted a bit, then turned back to the mirror. I lifted my chin. The neck was smooth. My eyes drifted lower on the reflection. The Dark Knight tee I'd worn to bed was being stretched in one very unusual location, but hung way loose over my torso.
I closed my eyes again and sighed. "I'm... a girl."
"Actually," she said with that annoyingly resolved pixie tone, "Give a closer look. I'm a girl. You are a woman."
I re-opened my eyes. She was right. There weren't many obvious clues at first, but my skin wasn't as youthful as hers, there were a few signs of aging. I ran my fingers through my hair again and took a deep breath. "Will you just tell me what's going on?"
She called me over to the bed, where the joint was resting. I crossed the room, suddenly aware of this weird, penisless feeling. I sat next to her.
I looked squarely at her. "Swear to me you are seriously Bryan."
"Only if you promise you're definitely Todd."
I sighed. I still felt like Todd, that was for sure. She passed me the roach. I hesitated before taking a nice big toke.
We heard a muffled scream outside the door, "OH GOD NO!'
She ignored it and said, "Let me tell you what I know."
And so she explained what she had already figured out about the Inn. Everyone staying there was cursed to take the bodies of the previous tenants and so on, so forth. The letters, which Bryan had actually found a few days earlier but been unable to make sense of - like some weird, frantically-written fairytale/biography - but as soon as the transformation happened it all became clear. Or at least, as clear as these people were able to make it.
The woman - me - was Anne Marie Adkisson. The girl was not her daughter, but niece by marriage, Elyssa McClay. They had been on a fourth of July trip and, well, now they were somewhere else (I won't say where just now.)
"So what then?" I asked, "We go to Toronto and try to convince people?"
"No, see, when I tried to read the letters before, it just flew over my head. There's no way to explain it to someone until it happens. We can't go home, dude. We have to go to Connecticut."
I've never been the type of guy who liked "having" to do anything. But now, I guess I'm not any type of guy anymore so how could I possibly argue? I took another hit.
"All I wanted was to see Slowhead," I muttered.
Maybe I'm leaving some stuff out. Maybe it took longer for me to believe, or we went back and forth longer, but it's been a while and my memory has settled on this as the official version. What's important, of course, is there.
More later.
-Todd, aka Anne Marie
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