Jonah/Krystle: Game Nights

I wasn't exactly a jock in high school, or otherwise really in a position to call other kids nerds or dorks - I was, after all, the kid going to extra church - but sometimes with Calvin and his friends, I feel like maybe I should have been?  Like, I know that I'm actually five years younger than all them, but sometimes I kind of wonder when they're going to grow up.  I guess it's a bit of everything, in that they're all white and never really had to worry about certain things, and how I jumped straight into adulthood from the middle of high school and then had a kid and I guess stopped having a lot of time for frivolity.

I mean, Game Night.  A bunch of folks in their mid-twenties getting together to play board games, and, like, not even "drink a shot when you get sent to jail in Monopoly" varieties.  One of Calvin's friends orders stuff from Germany that is apparently going to be the next big thing among tabletop enthusiasts here.  It's insane, but I feel like I'll be letting Cal down or looking like some sort of b---- if I say I don't want to go, I sound like a snob, and can the black single mother really afford to sound like she's too good for these folks?  Especially when I've got a while bunch of what Penny calls "Impostor syndrome" going on?

It's not that I don't have fun at these things, so much as how you get to doing them kind of bewilders me.  I feel like I just grew out of board games, or like they're something Little Moira is going to be growing into soon, and I haven't had time to get nostalgic and try to rediscover them.  I felt kind of silly asking Ashlyn not to schedule me to work every other Monday and even sillier asking Momma Kamen to babysit because this is my "grown-up time" with a boyfriend rather than a toddler.

On top of that, Calvin was hosting this week, and somehow that meant I was responsible for snacks - "we" were, but, well, you know.  And because it's important for some reason that I impress these people despite never having learned to do much more than heat food up, I got myself into a panic a week in advance.  I set off the smoke alarms in the apartment trying to make cookies, and maybe cried a little I told Moira and she said "ye work in a bleedin' restaurant and the owners like your fella".

So half an hour before everyone else started to arrive, Ashlyn showed up with two trays of dip, one with peach cobbler, and a bunch of tortilla chips  I thanked her with promises of overtime and handing out menus, but she said not to sweat it, that we all had different challenges in our new lives that we didn't see until they were right on top of us, but that I should remember I'm only dating Calvin and not his friends.

Easy for her to say; she didn't have any of them staring daggers at me because I'd only managed "vegetarian" rather than vegan with the second tray of dip and honestly couldn't tell the couple for who that was an issue whether there were egg whites or any other sorts of animal products in the cobbler.  I didn't have a great night as Calvin's partner, either; I swear someone got a bunch of "stuff Jonah doesn't know" Pictionary cards, and during Settlers of Catan I had no idea what expansions he had and therefore what we could do.

At the end of the night, I waited for him to sit down and then flopped onto the couch beside him, laying my head on his chest.  "Why is having fun so stressful?"

He laid a hand on my belly.  "Because you've got this silly idea that you need to prove you're awesome."

"It's not silly, and I don't have to prove I'm awesome, just that I'm not a screw-up.  I've disappointed so many people."

He leaned over and kissed my forehead, and then I leaned back a little more so he could do it again on my lips, and then his hand was on my back and I turned around so he could pull me in and there could be tongue.  One of his hands went to my butt and I let it, while I felt the muscles of his back.  The little part of me that says I shouldn't be making out with a guy was blowing its whistle but I ignored it, laying back on the couch and letting him stale me while one hand went to a breast.  I pulled him in a little, just close enough to feel that he was hard, which made me break the kiss and scoot back a bit.

"Sorry," he said, "it just happens."

"Believe me, I know.  It's just--"

Maybe there's a bit of disappointment on his face as he anticipates me saying that, but despite all the talk on that subject, I don't think I noticed any.  I actually found myself thinking "don't be stupid!" because I could feel myself turned on all over and thinking what am I going to do, run to the bathroom?  So I took a breath and said "it's just that I really can't have another baby right now.  You've got to be really careful."

A big grin spread over his face as he reached in his pocket and pulled out a condom with something about extra thickness on the wrapper, did my best not to look away as he put it on, although I may have taken a little longer than necessary in pulling my dress up over my head.  I suddenly felt really naked and vulnerable in just my bra and panties, though also kind of wishing I'd worn fancier ones.  Still, I was able to put myself in his place, pulling my panties down and letting him, well, you know.

I kind of don't know what to think of it.  It felt good, because he knew what he was doing a lot better than I did.  I mean, I didn't just lay there like I did when I got knocked up, but I didn't really know what I should do!  I felt stupid for not having done anything when I was a guy, or all the things I knew I shouldn't do but which would have left me feeling less ridiculous in that moment.  He said it was okay, I was just out of practice, and I just thought about how it was a good thing that if never let on just how much practice I figure Krystle had before I took over her life.

I talked to Ashlyn about it a couple days later and she started to laugh before apologizing, saying she figured it must be even weirder than usual for me.  Then the next day she brought in a couple of DVDs, saying that unlike most porn, most of what was on them would be fun for both of us and most of it wasn't "too advanced".  I was mortified and kept looking at my purse like it was going to catch fire the rest of the night.  I've seen R-rated movies and all, but never anything like that!  I was almost relieved that there was never a good time to get them out of the back of the drawer I speed them in over the past week.

But now Momma Kamen is out for the night and I've got another date with Calvin tomorrow, and Little Moira just feel asleep.  I really don't want to study how to please a man like this - I can't help but think of the time my dad found the magazine a classmate had stuck in my backpack and what the thought of his son learning how to make a man come would be like for him - but I kind of have to, if not for Calvin, than for the man I eventually marry.

Still...  Why is having fun so stressful?

-Jonah/Krystle

Jonah/Krystle: Not officially my first date, buuuuuut...

I've gone out on dates before.  Not really between my high school girlfriends and the man I met at church this summer (before Krystle blew that up), though I guess you could count the time I got knocked up and the time I met Joseph on the day he got out of jail, but to say that one of us wasn't really into it both times is selling those days short.  But last Tuesday felt different.  It was the first time in three years I've gone out with someone just because I liked them and wanted to get closer without some sort of ulterior motive.  I mean, yeah, I'm kind of looking to see if Calvin is husband material, probably more than most girls would be, but I guess it's less of an immediate priority.  Ashlyn and Moira have convinced me (for now) that is okay to just have a boyfriend.  Or, I guess, find one.

But, anyway, all those other times going out as Krystle never really felt like they were about me really enjoying myself.  They were about trying to make someone else happy - even the one Krystle crashed was kind of about making a sales pitch, like we could get along and be useful to each other, and my daughter needs a stepfather.  They were about being good instead of being happy, and though I think it's really important to be good, more so than being happy, I know you can be both.  Heck, I know I can be happy like this, if only because of Little Moira.

I'm still a little uncertain an hour before, standing in front of my bedroom mirror in my bra and panties, asking my 21-month-old daughter what I should put on.  She has no idea.

It probably doesn't help that I've shed a lot of Krystle's "date" outfits over the past couple years, either not seeing them as essential in a move or giving them away to Jordan as costumes because I'm not ever going to need them.  Or maybe it does; I'm not trying to make a night out a night in.  So I decide on sneakers right away, after I've squeezed myself into a pair of jeans.  They're pretty tight on my butt, but don't split when I lift a knee to my chest (don't ask how I learned to do that!), so I figure I'm probably okay.

Then I look at my chest in the mirror and say "what am I going to do with you?"  A couple years ago the answer was always "put on something baggy and hope people think I'm fat", but I'm kind of looking at my breasts different these days.  I used to think of them just in terms of how Krystle used to show them for money and how showing them off reflected on a girl in general, and I did try and change the way I was dressing back when I stopped nursing Moira, but it felt kind of silly - like, the instant they weren't useful, they're something to be ashamed of again?  Like, I know God doesn't want us to be prideful or lustful, but sometimes it's nice to wear something where raising your arm doesn't tug at your chest.  Which is something like half of what I was thinking when I put on a camisole that showed off a fair amount of cleavage; with a fair chunk of "guys like boobs" taking up the rest.  I also threw on a zip-up hoodie, unzipped to start the night, but ready for when the temperature dropped.

Then I headed to the North End; it's where he works and there's a lot of good food there.  We found a place that still had some tables outside and got a fancy-ish pizza.  He did a pretty good job of keeping eye contact, and an even better job of acting like my stories about waiting tables and how Moira has started copying my tendency to do free-throws into the garbage can are as interesting as Bobby Orr visiting the office.

Afterward, I kind of worked out part off why that paying attention meant so much to me.  It's not that I've had a lifetime of guys not listening because I'm a girl (although waiting tables does let me get caught up), but because he's a cool older guy who thinks I'm worth listening to.  Sure, I've had some life experiences since I was last in high school, but in some ways I kind of still think of myself as being a teenager because my family wouldn't let me forget it and a lot of people treat me like a screw-up, making me feel immature.  Anyway, I often still feel like a kid, and when an adult like Calvin feels like you've got something to offer, it doesn't matter if he thinks you're the same age, it makes you feel good (not that he's really robbing the cradle where 19-year-old me is concerned).

Still, he was generally cool, noticing that I kept glancing at the TV in a nearby bar every once in a while to see how the Celtics' season opener was going, and we eventually scrapped the plan to see a movie and just hung out watching the game with a couple of beers.

Which maybe made me a little chattier than might be wise about certain parts of my life story on the way back to the subway as he made a comment about my really liking basketball.

"Yeah, I used to play, back in high school.  Wasn't bad, but then all this happened..."  I had my arms crossed and used them to push my boobs up just a bit.  "...and suddenly running wasn't so much fun anymore."

"Well, you're still in pretty great shape anyway."

"My friend Jordan got me into yoga while I was pregnant, cause she was never into running.  It's worked out okay for us, but it's not the same."

A quick smile fled across his face.  "What?"

"Sorry, I just thought of a really fun idea for a second date."

"A second..."  I stopped in the middle of the road, not realizing there was a guy on a bike coming straight at me.  Calvin grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the way, and for a moment I looked down at my hand in his, kind of shocked... and then squeezed.  We continued walking that way, not really talking any more, until we got to the station.

"I know I'm picking up on this late, but I find it hard to believe you're surprised by a second date."

"Even before Moira, it had been a while, and it was different.  I've, well, I've never really gone out with anyone like you.  This is, like, a really new experience for me.  But a good one!  I--"

We were waiting for the Green Line by then, and a bunch of people getting out of a bar or something started crowding us, and though I wouldn't have fallen into the tracks, he caught me as I was shoved, the hand that wasn't holding mine resting on my butt and pulling me in closer.  We laughed, embarrassed, and he let go, but then when we got on the car, we were pushed together again.  I looked up at his face, he down at mine, our lips touched...

... and then the conductor hit the brakes and our heads named together.  He made a joke about maybe saving that for solid ground, and I agreed, although inside I kind of wished that we didn't need actual brakes being put on.

It was only a couple stops to Park Street where I changed to the Red Line and he didn't, so I stepped off, said goodbye, and walked off not quite in a daze.  I zipped up my sweatshirt as soon as I saw someone looking at me too hard, and gave the night some thought as I rode to the end of the line, then let myself into the apartment.  I wasn't sure, but I think that was the first time I really enjoyed being a woman, and as I got undressed I gave myself a good look in the mirror.  It still didn't seem right for me to see Krystle there, it felt a little less wrong.

-Jonah/Krystle

Jonah/Krystle: Date Night Disaster

I wouldn't say I've never thought about being with a man, in either sense of the word, since the Inn turned me into Krystal.  Desire comes into your head in different ways, and while Jordan says it's all in the part of your brain right behind your nose - the way he sees it, that changed with the rest of our bodies, and we've got no control over whether it chemically reacts to the smell of men, women, both, or neither - I still can't help but feel like the Devil has some say in it.  Whatever the reason, men feature far more prominently than women in my dreams when I remember them, and I'm Krystle in them when I do.

It's not just a matter of thinking about sex, though.  I know it sounds absurdly obvious to say it, but being a single mom is hard!  It's an unending series of difficult things that almost always require someone else's help, and you can't adequately repay them.  Momma Kamen has been a huge help, but I feel like I'm deceiving her whenever I ask for her to watch Little Moira, and when our schedules don't line up, I have to hire a sitter, and that's a sizable chunk of what I get paid for the work I'm leaving my baby in another's hands for.

I need a husband.

I know, everyone else does the dating or sex as a lark or to try and keep up appearances without thinking beyond that at first, but I have practical considerations.  Maybe if I had grown up in this sort of family, single parenthood would come naturally to me, or if I'd been grown up inside and out when I got pregnant, but I just can't wrap my head around this working long-term without two parents.

I'd told myself that for a few weeks but not done anything about it, but it looked like things were going to work out on their own, somewhat.  There's a guy at church, a widower, whose five-year-old thinks Moira is just the cutest thing.  We talked about raising kids alone, and the Celtics, and some other stuff every week, but I didn't think much of it - this church may not get hung up on unwed mothers the way the one at home does, but I still kind of feel like I don't belong, and people are just being polite.  Even though I know I'm attractive before people see the kid, I don't expect anyone to act on it there.

But he did, asking if I'd like to go see a movie. He made it a parent thing even though there wouldn't be any kids around, seeing if that Uncle Drew movie his daughter wanted to watch was kid-friendly.  It was a good move;  I didn't really think of it as a date until I mentioned it to Ashlyn and Moira at work.  Moira high-fived me for getting back out there, and Ashlyn pulled me aside and asked if I was really ready.  I said I'd have to be sometime, and this guy didn't seem like a bad one.

I still got nervous dressing for it; as much as I don't not dress for tips at work, I'm usually trying to avoid looks.  I'd omit seen this guy in church, but it didn't seem right to wear my church clothes, or that dress is worn for my former best friend two years ago.  Eventually I decided I might as well go with the V-neck, slacks, and two-inch heels - mostly loose, but not hiding that the are tight spots.

It got a reaction, although he was polite about it when we sat down at Legal Sea Food.  I felt thrilled as we ordered wine - between being scared, pregnant, and breast-feeding, this might as well have been my first drink.  I laughed telling him that it was my first IN A WHILE, he said I deserved it, and we laughed until I heard something that went a chill up my spine.

"Krystle, is that you?"

I knew the voice, but I had to look up to see.  Yes, it was Krystle-as-me, dressed in cargo shorts and a t-shirt, walking straight at us.  As my date looked over his shoulder, I mouthed "please don't", but no such luck, she just smiled, grabbed a chair from an adjacent table, and straddled it.  "I knew it was you!  It's been months!  How's our baby doing?"

My date raised his eyebrows.  "You're Moira's...  Sorry, you just seem, uh..."

"Young?  Yeah, I was actually on a field trip--"

"He was not!"

Krystle looked at me and smiled bigger.  "You're right, I must have come down during school vacation, because how would I get into that strip club on a field trip?"

"Stop it!"

My date turned to look at me.  "Is that true?"

"I, uh, had stopped dancing by then, but..."  I felt myself sweating.  "It was a really weird situation which Jonah here knows I can't explain."

"You can try, can't you, 'Krystle'?  You're going to have explain how you let a kid knock you up someday!"

I didn't say anything, since it was suddenly like Krystle wasn't the third person at the table, but my date was, and he knew it.  "Well, I'm sure you two have a lot to talk about..."  And then he went to find a hostess so he could pay the bill and bail.

Jonah smiled big.  "Wow.  That was easier than I thought it was going to be.  I might have to keep it up."  Then he turned his eyes my way and looked me up and down.  "So, do you really like him or do you pull my tits out for just anyone?"

I looked down and there really wasn't anything I could pull at to minimize my cleavage a little.  Good, what had I been thinking?

Krystle seemed to read my mind.  "Yeah, finding the right outfit is harder than just getting knocked up, isn't it?  I'll take that problem off your hands though.  It's not too late."

"I told you--"

She punched the table hard enough for a water glass to tip over.  "Ah, fuck, I didn't mean for that to happen.  But I'm not supposed to be like this.  Don't get me wrong, it was convenient to be a guy for the last year or so, but I miss all the stuff you guys treat like a pain in the ass, and I don't see why I should have to give it up because you thought God was a substitute for the pill!"

I waited, trying to come up with an explanation.  "I can't not be Moira's mom. I just can't."

"You can!  You're a 19-year-old boy!"

"Not any more.  I'm--"  My voice broke.

"You can't finish the sentence.  You're going to steal my life but you can't actually say 'I'm Krystle now' to me."

I tried to, but couldn't.  I probably could say it to anyone else, but not her.

"Pathetic.  You do know that part of being me is just doing shit without whining about it, right?  Not caring what people think about who you've fucked or how you dress or any of that?  I swear, you're such a sad me that I should keep doing this because you'll break."

"So is that what the rest of my life is going to be like?"

"It should be, it really should be, but you know what I learned both as you and before?  My time is valuable.  Too valuable to wait for a man to do what he should, too valuable to just fritter away when I could be getting ready for what comes next.  I'd like to do that as myself, but I'm not going to wait around until you've gotten me fat with saggy tits.

"So, you keep trying to find yourself a man.  Just remember that even with everything you stole from me, you ain't never gonna be woman enough to get a man you don't deserve, and you fo sho don't deserve much after what you did to me."

She got up and left, and I would have loved to sit there and recover, but there were folks waiting for a table and others looking at me.  I wanted to get home and into sweats as soon as possible.

As you might imagine, there's been no second date - he won't even talk to me or let his daughter play with little Moira, and don't think other folks at church haven't noticed.

And I can't help but thinking Krystle is right, that if I can't even really say that I'm Krystle now, and if I'd take everything away from someone like this, what kind of person am I, whether man or woman?  How can I compound this selfishness by exposing someone else to help take care of me and Moira?

I've been praying on this, but no answer ever comes.  And now Krystle has gone back to the Inn and there's a new Jonah who wants my life, and I'm afraid I've ruined everything and stuck Moira with a mother who will always fail her.

- Jonah/Krystle

Lindsey/Magda: Date Night

I wouldn't necessarily say that I've been having fun acting the part of Harmon's mother over the past couple months - in a lot of ways, it's been as much a thing I fall into trying to keep him occupied and active and doing something other than indulging in self-pity as it is a thing I think is amusing or a necessary part of keeping up appearances for the real Magda & Alicia as well as anybody else who has a vested interest - but I do it because even if these lives aren't really ours, they kind of are, and they've got to be lived.  If that makes any sense.  I mean, basically, you've got two or people who are biologically mother and daughter living under one roof, working jobs where people know us as that, and we sort of fall into situations where we've got to do what mothers and daughters do.

And it makes feel kind of exhausted at times.  Magda left her form (for lack of a better way to describe the physicality transferred from one body to another by the Inn) in pretty good shape, but I'm still getting used to what I can and cannot do as her, and the thing that keeps really frustrating me is laundry.  I am sweaty and achy by the time I've pulled what I took to the laundromat or dry-cleaner back up to the apartment, and it sometimes doesn't help when I see Harmon lounging in the living room in Alicia's sweats, watching CNN and also reading some magazine, apparently having got up at the crack of 6pm (to be fair, he had arrived back here after a red-eye the night before).  "Hey, lazybones, Mom's done the laundry!"

"No matter how many times you act like you're my mother, it is not amusing."

"C'mon, it's a little bit funny.  Besides, you could cut it down by occasionally doing some chores around here."

He sniffed and went back to his paper.

"Or..."  I took a breath, trying to think of a way for what I was about to say not to sound gross, "we could actually do something as a couple.  We haven't had a date night since the Inn."

He gave me a look.  "Are you serious?  Not only are we both women at the moment, but even if we were interested in being intimate, the roles we have been thrust into would make acting on such attraction... questionable, to say the least."

"I'm not asking for us to wind up in bed at the end of it!  I just think that, you know, taking a night and dressing up, getting dinner and drinks, seeing a play or a movie, maybe just walking around and exploring a little, I don't know, maybe we won't just feel like roommates with nothing in common but what the Inn did to us."

I think it can be hard for us to really see each other like this sometimes, but I did feel like Harmon did see me then.  "Of course, you're right.  We've each been so occupied by being 'her' or being 'them' that we could do with taking a night to be us.  I have to work tomorrow and won't be getting back until nine, but how is Thursday for you?"

I tell him Thursday's great - there's stuff going on but we won't be surrounded by couples or singles, making it really awkward.  It certainly gives me a little more to look forward to during the week, and I suspect folks at work notice, and if they're thinking "Magda" had a date with a guy, well, they're not entirely wrong.  There's music coming from Harmon's room when I arrive home, take a quick shower, put my hair in curlers, and pull open Magda's closet.

There's a lot of choices in there, but pushing the manhunter stuff to one side cuts the options down a bit.  I find a nice, loose floral-print skirt that goes down to my ankles, a cashmere sweater that shows I've got a figure without necessarily drawing everyone's eyes to my boobs, and some wedges that give me an extra inch or two but aren't super-fancy or gait-changing.  A little make-up, and I look pretty good for a gal in her mid-forties, but not on the prowl. 

I sit out in the living room for a bit, waiting, and then go knock on Harmon's door.  "Hey, Harmon, our reservation's in about a half hour."

"Oh, right.  One moment."  It's barely even that long before he opens the door and steps out, stopping midway as he sees me.  "You... look nice."

"Thanks!  And you, well, you look nice in anything."

I probably sounded more disappointed than I was, but I'm pretty sure I said "dress up" when describing the idea, and he's wearing loose slacks that still kind of cling to the tush and a camisole, with his hair in a ponytail.  I suppose I should be grateful that he's come around on camis in the last few days because he won't wear t-shirts on their own and doesn't like anything that feels like it pushes his boobs in or up, which is a lot of Alicia's blouses and tops.

He sighed, frustrated.  "Do I have to go change?"

I sighed too.  "No time; maybe just grab a cardigan or something."

He grabbed the most shapeless one in Alicia's closet and we headed downstairs.  Our table wasn't quite ready when we got to the restaurant, so we accepted the invitation to sit at the bar.  We got our usuals, which didn't look strange for me but it activated some sort of beacon in nearby guys.  After the second or third "so you're a bourbon girl" that he had trouble deflecting, he got increasingly angry about the need.  I probably could have stepped in better or faster, but I felt weirdly outside for a moment the first time because he only saw the apparently-young girl, and even after I started talking, I was winging it because my mom and I are not close and I really don't know what to say when a mother stands up for her daughter.  Eventually, I got to the point where I could just say, hey, mother-daughter night, but Harmon kind of bristled at that, too.

The dinner itself was good, and not as tricky as it might have been; Harmon's not really a big "give me a whole steak and extra carbs" sort of guy under normal circumstances.  He didn't really want to talk about work, which I kind of get, although given that he's had a few layovers that weren't just "sleep at the hotel and get on another plane", I figured he must have had some cool experiences.  It was even harder than usual to get him to talk about his academic work, saying that while the substitute Harmon was apparently capable of giving a lecture but relied on his grad students even more than he did and it was hard to do a lot of the research his new paper needed without access to certain academic libraries, and it was hard to get through the whole process with an intermediary.

He didn't seem too terribly interested in me talking about how substitute-me seemed to be having fun - she and substitute-Harmon are actually married in their real life, so they can take the side-eye we get and have fun with it, although I'm not sure what I'm going to do with everyone thinking I've got artistic hobbies now.  Maybe I should take up painting so that is not quite so strange a change next year, especially since it would give me a hobby for when he was out of town.

After dinner, we saw the movie about the English guys assigned the job of handling India's transition to full independence because he was NOT doing the Reese Witherspoon one.  It was okay, not really my thing, but it was kind of nice to reach out and have Harmon hold my hand in the dark.

It got uncomfortable again on the way home - the guys in the bar and a couple of folks at the theater had Harmon wanting a car rather than a crowded subway only to find out that there's little worse than skeevy Uber drivers - so I don't know if we'll get a chance to do it again soon.  When it comes to living these new lives, Harmon is much less gung-ho on the idea that practice makes perfect than I am.

-Lindsey/Magda

Tyler/Judith: The Good Times

There was a comment on my last post that had a very rough appraisal of Kitty. And while he's got his faults, I probably don't help his case much by giving a bit of a skewed portrayal of him on this blog. You hear about the fights, the blow-ups, the times he makes me feel... less than happy about our arrangement. But there's a lot in between, long spans where we're joking around and comfortable and surprisingly happy.

It's true, our dynamic is a bit of a strange one. He's a 20-some years older than me and has certain values that have, well, persisted through our varying ages and genders over the course of our year (!!) together.*

*That's right, it's coming up on one year since I blundered into Alan and Greta's apartment in Milwaukee and found her there - it was a while later that we started our fling and while we haven't exactly been consistently "together" since then, we've never really left each other's side, so... make of it what you will. Believe me, classifications become a lot less meaningful when your life is like this.

It's easier to pin down the times when we disagree, when things aren't good... and maybe I'm a bit of a pessimist, a grump, (a bitch?) that I can dwell on that side of it a bit more, vent when I need to... but that doesn't mean it's always like that. Yes, it rubbed me the wrong way when he asked me to work less, but it's not like he was asking me to stop working altogether so he could keep me barefoot in the kitchen (I think.) Do I think it's a bit silly that he wants to feel like the head of the household? Sure. But I'd be lying if I said that trying to keep up an increased level of workload as well as keeping the house clean and meals prepared wouldn't potentially be one notch too much stress. (Judith's body is pretty prone to headaches and fatigue, in case you've forgotten... and if you'd ever tasted Kit's cooking, you'd volunteer to be the chef too.) And the less said about our Valentine's flap, which kind of demonstrated how we never really leave our old selves behind, no matter what we look like, the better.

But there are good times. They just tend to be quiet. Nights at home watching some crummy movie, making snarky comments between the dialogue, or just driving around listening to the radio. He loves to go shopping and beg me to buy things that he wishes he could still wear himself, half-seriously (I have to remind him that Judith and Adrian don't exactly have the budget that Kitty and Chett did.) While I mock the quirkier aspects of female clothes.

The best example came this past Friday night. Maybe he was still feeling some fallout from Valentine's, but that's neither here nor there. It was "surprise date night." I got dressed up all nice in a flowing purple dress, with lipstick and jewelry and all that, and I get in the car with him... and he's in a suit and tie, quite dashing. And I notice in the backseat of the Chevy, an overnight bag.

"Um..." I say, "Are we staying somewhere? Because I didn't make any arrangements for the Kid..."

"Nope," he beams, "That's our real outfits for the evening."

"Our real..." I say, "Kit, what are you talking about?"

"You'll see," he gets this impish grin as we drive a while, and a while further, and then finally we arrive two towns over at this... Country Bar. This really hokey looking linedancing joint. I was shaking my head but couldn't help smiling despite myself. Over the months, I've talked a bit about the kinds of places I used to hang out in my youth - and while I have a real conflicted relationship with the part of the country I'm from, there's a certain fondness, a nostalgia that sets in (God help me) when you realize you'll probably never be back (assuming the Inn never puts me in the body of a southerner again).

Not that I was necessarily surprised that the Granite State has its own rednecks complete with redneck bars (some native, some transplants, some truckers just passing through.)

"Sorry about the deception," he said, "I thought if I told you what to wear it might tip you off to my surprise. You like it, don't you?"

"I actually do," I said, feeling flattered that Kitty would go to such lengths to bring me a slice of home.

In the overnight bag were a man's and woman's pair of light blue jeans, plaid shirts, and cowboy boots. We changed behind the car - another somewhat uncharacteristically wild choice from Kit. I pulled my jeans on under my skirt and then slipped it off in the cold air to replace it with the overshirt.

"Where's the hat?" I said, "You're gonna look mighty out of place without one."

Nevertheless, in we went. The jukebox was playing the old shit from Loretta Lynn, Willie Nelson, George Strait, Reba... We had Po' Boys and drank shitty beer, I showed him some line-dancing steps. I even outlasted him on the mechanical bull (8.5 seconds versus his 5.1... maybe it's a center of gravity thing ;)) Mostly we drank and danced and laughed as we both awkwardly tried to lead.

We left the car there and took a cab home. The whole night put me very "in the mood," so the foreplay started in the car, but when we got to the house I found, much to both of our dismay, that Adrian's body was, um, maybe a bit too "tired."

So I did something I didn't necessarily think I would have to do, but hadn't closed my mind to if the situation arose. I brought my mouth down southward. That woke him up in a hurry, so I didn't have to linger that long, which was good because it wasn't something I really wanted to spend the rest of the evening doing. From there it was a bit of a quick finish, and I asked him to try not to go to sleep so that we could go again.

So we cuddled, and talked a bit, until he was ready to go again. The second time is always better - longer, steadier, more passionate... not that I necessarily mind "quick and dirty," but this body isn't as responsive to that.

Anyway, my point is, it was a nice night. A real nice night, the kind we really ought to have more often (but we can't exactly haul our asses out to the middle of nowhere for a random bar night every weekend.) I don't want it to feel like I'm faking it or I have to bend over backwards to convince myself that I like being with this person, to explain why I don't just bail like I have so many times before. It may not be perfect, but it's a good life we've got for ourselves.

-TJ