I've spent a lot of this weekend holed up in my room reading Tori's old diaries, among other things. I've kind of been hiding from Tori's mom, of all people, because we had a bit of a fight.
I obviously don't think of her as my mom, even though I have to act like she is. She's very different from my mom. Mrs. Pearce is quite up-front about her feelings whereas my mom is kind of a passive-aggressive type... maybe it's not fair to say that about my mom to a bunch of people who don't know her, but if she doesn't like something she'll never confront it, just pick away at it and repress her feelings rather than make a scene. Sometimes I'm like that. It probably has to do with why it took me so long to terms with my current womanhood, (as much as I have.)
Mrs. Pearce is always talking about what she likes and what she doesn't like, in a very non-judgmental way. I actually kind of like her better than my mom, in that way. Mom never admitted it, but I could tell she saw the paths my brother's life and my life took, and picked which one she was proud of (he's an athlete and soldier, I was an asthmatic computer nerd. Not a hard choice.)
Anyway. Tori's mom and I generally get along and I do my best not to ruffle feathers with any of them. I look at it like being in a new workplace - as an outsider of sorts, I have to do my best to get along with these people, no matter their expectations of me. I have tried to be a very minor irritant during my time here, which is probably not how most people act around their families. Most people are not afraid of irritating their families at all.
So to the extent Mrs. Pearce and I have been in each others' lives, we've gotten along well, and she seems to really like her older daughter despite the fact that she left her job as a stylist and moved back home before having her body taken over by a man. I asked her if it bothered her that I had moved back in, and she said no, as long as I was working, but very matter-of-factly said, "It had better not be permanent, dear." Fair enough, I say!
So we get along well but I don't really know her, I just try to stay out of her way. Then on Saturday she tells me she's thinking about changing her hair color and would I mind doing it for free? And we could bond and stuff. Obviously that was Tori's thing, but what am I supposed to do? I can, and have, faked a lot over the last few months... sometimes successfully, sometimes not, but this is obviously something I don't want to try, so I tell her I can't, but I guess I couldn't give a good reason why not, so she unleashes all this ranting on me about how it's bullshit that "Tori" wasted all this time and money on beauty school and gave up on it so quickly and won't even help out her own mother, and she feels like she doesn't know "me" anymore, and, well, obviously I am just not her favorite person anymore. And it didn't help my situation that I was menstrual-cramping something awful at the time, so my baser instincts got ahold of me and I actually felt the need to get some stuff off my own chest, (stuff that mostly had nothing to do with her and I couldn't explain in a short amount of time, about my real life, my current life, my sexuality, my job, etc etc.) even though that's exactly the kind of thing I had avoided doing this whole time... I guess bottling up all my frustration doesn't help.
So I ran upstairs and shut myself in my room and started reading the diaries again. I mentioned some references to her little friend, Danny, a boy she obviously liked. As middle school gave way to high school he's still around, and yet Tori has started dating older boys instead of him. Funny how entire threads of our lives can be pulled out of place. She never explains whether she admitted her feelings for him, not yet anyway. And when she talks about these other boys she goes out with it's not with the same language and enthusiasm and passion as she wrote about Danny. I can see her starting to get shaped into the girl she ended up becoming. Sara has been referenced only as a vague acquaintance, Raine hasn't yet appeared.
She talks about her looks a lot, going back and forth about whether she thinks she's attractive. I guess that's the kind of insecurity a lot of teenage girls go through.
Let me tell you, being in Tori's body has made me appreciate a lot of things about a woman's body. Call me a caveman, but I guess before I was a woman I often just saw women as pretty faces and nice boobs. Typical superficial stuff. I've learned so much as I've gotten more and more accustomed to the face in the mirror. The way my eyelashes curl, the way my chin comes to a subtle little curve, my cute little ears... the curve of my hips and legs, the way I look in a set of bra and panties and the way my stomach just drops right down without a bulge, curving just at the top of the panties because hey I'm thin but I'm no skeleton... so many little details I never would've noticed if I hadn't had time to examine. I don't know. I wonder if she ever thought of herself that way. I know she didn't when she was 15, getting awkward, desperately watching her weight, nervous about her boobs... she wrote a whole paragraph about how she hates the way her nose sticks out, but you know what? I like her nose, too. It gives her face character.
I guess I can see why that would lead someone to obsess about beauty and go into it for a living... always judging and comparing herself to the other girls... but I wish she had someone like me who could tell her how beautiful she is just the way she is.
But hey, this is coming from a guy who hasn't been past second-base in about three years, not including with himself...
Showing posts with label diaries. Show all posts
Showing posts with label diaries. Show all posts
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Tuesday, December 01, 2009
Cliff/Tori: Thanksgiving Saga Chapter 1
I don't think I have ever lied on this blog. It's a really bad idea, because if something happens that I can only explain by revealing the truth, it's pointless. I might as well not even write here if I am going to lie to you good people. I want to share my story, and I have, including some parts that I find myself embarrassed to discuss.
The upside is, you don't know me. To you, I am just a bunch of words on a screen, not a person. An idea about a man in a woman's body. I assume you believe me, or are willing to pretend you do, even though if you met me in person, you'd probably think "This woman is crazy." So I have nothing to hide. Not to mention, you have all proven remarkably understanding about what's going on in my life, willing to hear my stories about putting on panties and bras and wondering if I am still the man inside I feel I should be. Through interacting with fellow victims and kind anonymous readers I have felt safe and secure, and reassured that things will go okay. I don't know how people have lived through this Trading Post ordeal without a blog like this one. It has helped me grow comfortable in this skin well beyond what I ever dreamed, in such a short time, when I first got changed (if that sentence makes any sense, please don't judge me, Alia!)
So I want to thank you, by assuring you of my absolute honesty here and hoping it all comes out well. In the past, I'll admit, I have omitted details, but never anything I thought would be important later, and usually I'm right. Thanksgiving was a big story, and I intend not to omit anything I think is important... it may end up being multiple posts. But I want to get as much out of it out there as I can.
It was the kind of vacation you need a whole other vacation to recover from. It started with a long, long, long bus trip, (drive from Philly to Buffalo it's 6 hours, take a bus and it's double that) early Wednesday morning. I decided to bring a couple of Tori's old diaries for reading material. Foolishly, I decided to begin at the beginning, and it's a long story. The first entry is dated to her twelfth birthday, January 30th 1999. I never realized how much older I was than her, until I thought about the fact that at the time she was writing on that page, I was a 17-year-old boy in high school. Not long after that I was in college studying computer sciences, a field that you'll probably understand grows as time has gone on... it put me in an odd nostalgia trip.
As you can imagine, there's very little that a 12-year-old might have to say that has to do with my current life, but I felt it was necessary to browse anyhow. It's full of the necessary prepubescent complaints. Her parents control her life too much, school is boring, her little sister is a pain... little Leah Mae was only six years old in 1999. The girl who just last week was asking whether I thought it was the right time to give up her virginity. Ick.
The handwriting was also scratchy, the spelling bad, the grammar awful, not that I'm holding it against her I'm just saying it made it tough to read. I found myself thumbing over pages that I couldn't decipher, and where nothing seemed to jump out at me. Many of the entries were spare, short summaries of what she did that day or what she was mad about, or how she had fun with her friends.
One helpful commenter on my last post noted that the diaries could be considered an extension of the letter I got when I woke up as Tori, which to a degree is true. It definitely helps me understand her better. But at the same time, the letter was written by a 22-year-old girl, to put her life in a context a stranger might understand. The bare essentials. The diaries were clearly never meant for someone other than Tori to read, and they sometimes make puzzling references (names, places, events that are never explained, but later become slightly more clear.) This is all access, but a lot of it is locked out. As the book goes on, she writes longer entries with more references and explanations that relate to what I'd already read, so I assume that as the books go on I will gain more understanding as my frame of reference builds.
I guess if my original intention was to learn specifically about sex, 12 was definitely the wrong place to start, and as you can tell there's more at work here. Learning more about how Tori talks to herself has helped me learn about her as a person. There are times when she seems very analytical, like me, and she was still only 12. Other times, she's just gossipy.
I arrived in Buffalo after dinner. Willy had told me he'd be busy and unable to meet until a bit later than that, so I arranged to meet with him at a favourite bar of mine and Justin's.
The commenter also mentioned a parallel with something the original Ashlyn/Jean-Michel had done, which I'll admit was partly my inspiration. I was eager to see my old friends, my family. Willy and I had cooked up a none-too-original (and slightly unbelievable, if you know me) cover story, where I was a girl "Cliff" had met online, and we hit it off, and I had agreed to meet him in person. The unbelievable part is that I could never envision myself hitting it off with a girl like Tori... girls like Tori don't tend to be interested in guys like J.H. Clifford, and to be honest I had written girls like her off as not being my type, personality-wise (not that I wouldn't have stared impotently if she came into the bar.) But I figured, we have Inn-magic on our side, people will believe whatever we say.
I arrived at the bar and didn't see Willy there, so I took a seat at the bar. About halfway through my first beer, Justin arrived. I pretended not to notice him, because I didn't want to act like I knew him without Willy around so we could keep things straight. But he sat next to me anyway and ordered a draft. I kept my eyes forward and drank up.
"Excuse me," he said. I didn't move. "Miss?" I looked over. He had this odd smile on his face. "You're drinking awfully fast, I just thought I'd point that out."
"Oh, um," I blushed, oddly embarrassed, "I'm just nervous about something. and I like my drink."
"I can see that," he joked, "Why don't you let me get you another one?"
"No, it's okay," I was off-put, "I'm just waiting for someone."
He smiled at me and said "Well if they don't show up, feel free to have a drink with me. I'm Justin."
Reluctantly, I shook his hand "Tori." It suddenly because very obvious that Justin was coming onto me.
Full disclosure: I've had guys look at me with desire quite a bit since I've been female. There are days it makes me feel nice, there are days it makes me feel absolutely shitty, depending on how I feel about my body/my mind that day, and who's doing the looking. By and large I am able to ignore it, and when a guy seems like he is about to proposition me I've got the art of polite rejection down.
But this is my friend. He's supposed to know me. I know all about the Inn magic, but part of me wishes that the fact that we've known each other for over a decade meant he was able to see past my long hair and nice breasts and realize he was talking to his best friend. And hopefully that would stop him. This not to mention the fact that he's dating a really great girl, Randi.
Then just as things were about to get super-awkward for me, in came a shockingly familiar face -- my own. I never thought of myself as a particularly tall guy, but my real body is head and shoulders above the 5'5 Tori (I am on break from heels.) He bounded in with confidence. "There you are! Justin, I see you've met Tori."
He spoke with such zeal, so boldly, so friendly to Justin you'd think they really had been friends all their lives. When I spoke to Willy on the phone he had a rather British accent, but I could tell he was putting on an "American" one that made him sound like the guy from House (who is British) and doesn't sound local to Buffalo at all. But I guess that's one of those things people don't think about.
They looked at each other and laughed, and I was deeply embarrassed to find out that Justin hadn't been hitting on me at all, they'd set the thing up as a joke. Randi came in after that and we got a booth.
Obviously, I was the object of conversational interest. They asked me all sorts of questions, things I expected to answer, my likes/dislikes, my background, stuff I could handle. My mission was to seem like "Cliff's" perfect girl, someone who shared his interests and understood him as a person. Maybe it sounds cheesy, but it was really amazing to play that role (only later did I get sad when I thought about the fact that such a girl may not exist in real life.)
By the end of the night, we had made plans to meet up again the next night after our family thanksgiving dinners, and then brave the Walden Galleria on Black Friday. Justin seemed suitably impressed (despite my just-off-the-buss look) and Randi seemed like she had found a new girl-friend... which is sad, because I will not be in her life for long, will I... as Cliff drove me home in my own car (I had wanted to drive but was definitely not sober, I hadn't seen him take a drink all night) we talked about what a success we had been, what a "smashing" couple we made, as he reverted to his more natural accent.
I made fun of his American accent. "Wot, d'ye not like it?" he asked, "I been practicin' for months, you should'a heard me when a'first got out here. I'da thought the accent changes with the body, but no. People was lookin' at me like I's an alien back in August, and now listen!" He switched to American "My name is Cliff, it's nice to meet you. Let's watch the Bills this Sunday."
I laughed at his antics. He's a very funny guy, very charismatic. he told me he learned accents because he used to act a bit, but never really had to polish up his American. I guess considering that, he's pretty good, seeing as how bad my British accent is. And that's having spent a lifetime watching Monty Python...
We got back to my apartment - Cliff's apartment - and I walked around, taking note of all the things he'd moved, and all the things he'd kept the same. "I'm gonna make a pot of tea, you want some?" Sure. We spent the evening talking, late into the night, just talking, him about England, me answering his questions about who John Henry Clifford really is... it's sad to realize there are things I don't even know about myself.
Around 2 AM, we were on the couch and I was drifting off, but a thought occurred to me, so I told him, "If you want... you can tell them we did it. I mean, that's what they think I'm here for. It'll make you look cool, and I don't mind..."
"Now, that wouldn't be very gentlemanly," he sighed, "I don't intend on tellin' them anything that didn't actually happen. I respect yer virtue too much."
He smiled, I laughed. "Well, that's nothing they haven't heard before... Cliff can't close the deal."
"You're all right, Cliff. You're a sharp guh--" I could tell he was gonna say "girl" but stopped himself and changed it halfway to "guy."
"Well, I'd better get to bed..." I said, "Thanksgiving is a pretty exhausting day even if you're well-rested."
"I have to admit I'm a wee bit excited to see exactly what the fuss is about. We haven't anything like it back home, from what I seen on the telly."
I laughed again, still slightly inebriated, "Haha, the telly. If my dad heard the way you talk... oh, brother."
He ushered me into my room even after I offered to take the couch. "Now now, we won't be having that," he insisted, "I am only a guest in yer body, and I insist on treating you fairly."
I changed into my pajamas and slung my bra over the side of the bed, taking a moment to take in how foreign the image of women's clothes in my room really looked. not only that, but being undressed, letting my breasts see the air, in a room that was once my private sanctum, felt more scandalous than it should have. This used to be my place, but now I really did feel like an outsider.
I noticed the lingering body odor of Cliff on the pillows and sheets. The strangeness of it, nothing I would have noticed when I was me... I fell asleep nestled deep in the mattress trench made by my old body.
More to come
The upside is, you don't know me. To you, I am just a bunch of words on a screen, not a person. An idea about a man in a woman's body. I assume you believe me, or are willing to pretend you do, even though if you met me in person, you'd probably think "This woman is crazy." So I have nothing to hide. Not to mention, you have all proven remarkably understanding about what's going on in my life, willing to hear my stories about putting on panties and bras and wondering if I am still the man inside I feel I should be. Through interacting with fellow victims and kind anonymous readers I have felt safe and secure, and reassured that things will go okay. I don't know how people have lived through this Trading Post ordeal without a blog like this one. It has helped me grow comfortable in this skin well beyond what I ever dreamed, in such a short time, when I first got changed (if that sentence makes any sense, please don't judge me, Alia!)
So I want to thank you, by assuring you of my absolute honesty here and hoping it all comes out well. In the past, I'll admit, I have omitted details, but never anything I thought would be important later, and usually I'm right. Thanksgiving was a big story, and I intend not to omit anything I think is important... it may end up being multiple posts. But I want to get as much out of it out there as I can.
It was the kind of vacation you need a whole other vacation to recover from. It started with a long, long, long bus trip, (drive from Philly to Buffalo it's 6 hours, take a bus and it's double that) early Wednesday morning. I decided to bring a couple of Tori's old diaries for reading material. Foolishly, I decided to begin at the beginning, and it's a long story. The first entry is dated to her twelfth birthday, January 30th 1999. I never realized how much older I was than her, until I thought about the fact that at the time she was writing on that page, I was a 17-year-old boy in high school. Not long after that I was in college studying computer sciences, a field that you'll probably understand grows as time has gone on... it put me in an odd nostalgia trip.
As you can imagine, there's very little that a 12-year-old might have to say that has to do with my current life, but I felt it was necessary to browse anyhow. It's full of the necessary prepubescent complaints. Her parents control her life too much, school is boring, her little sister is a pain... little Leah Mae was only six years old in 1999. The girl who just last week was asking whether I thought it was the right time to give up her virginity. Ick.
The handwriting was also scratchy, the spelling bad, the grammar awful, not that I'm holding it against her I'm just saying it made it tough to read. I found myself thumbing over pages that I couldn't decipher, and where nothing seemed to jump out at me. Many of the entries were spare, short summaries of what she did that day or what she was mad about, or how she had fun with her friends.
One helpful commenter on my last post noted that the diaries could be considered an extension of the letter I got when I woke up as Tori, which to a degree is true. It definitely helps me understand her better. But at the same time, the letter was written by a 22-year-old girl, to put her life in a context a stranger might understand. The bare essentials. The diaries were clearly never meant for someone other than Tori to read, and they sometimes make puzzling references (names, places, events that are never explained, but later become slightly more clear.) This is all access, but a lot of it is locked out. As the book goes on, she writes longer entries with more references and explanations that relate to what I'd already read, so I assume that as the books go on I will gain more understanding as my frame of reference builds.
I guess if my original intention was to learn specifically about sex, 12 was definitely the wrong place to start, and as you can tell there's more at work here. Learning more about how Tori talks to herself has helped me learn about her as a person. There are times when she seems very analytical, like me, and she was still only 12. Other times, she's just gossipy.
I arrived in Buffalo after dinner. Willy had told me he'd be busy and unable to meet until a bit later than that, so I arranged to meet with him at a favourite bar of mine and Justin's.
The commenter also mentioned a parallel with something the original Ashlyn/Jean-Michel had done, which I'll admit was partly my inspiration. I was eager to see my old friends, my family. Willy and I had cooked up a none-too-original (and slightly unbelievable, if you know me) cover story, where I was a girl "Cliff" had met online, and we hit it off, and I had agreed to meet him in person. The unbelievable part is that I could never envision myself hitting it off with a girl like Tori... girls like Tori don't tend to be interested in guys like J.H. Clifford, and to be honest I had written girls like her off as not being my type, personality-wise (not that I wouldn't have stared impotently if she came into the bar.) But I figured, we have Inn-magic on our side, people will believe whatever we say.
I arrived at the bar and didn't see Willy there, so I took a seat at the bar. About halfway through my first beer, Justin arrived. I pretended not to notice him, because I didn't want to act like I knew him without Willy around so we could keep things straight. But he sat next to me anyway and ordered a draft. I kept my eyes forward and drank up.
"Excuse me," he said. I didn't move. "Miss?" I looked over. He had this odd smile on his face. "You're drinking awfully fast, I just thought I'd point that out."
"Oh, um," I blushed, oddly embarrassed, "I'm just nervous about something. and I like my drink."
"I can see that," he joked, "Why don't you let me get you another one?"
"No, it's okay," I was off-put, "I'm just waiting for someone."
He smiled at me and said "Well if they don't show up, feel free to have a drink with me. I'm Justin."
Reluctantly, I shook his hand "Tori." It suddenly because very obvious that Justin was coming onto me.
Full disclosure: I've had guys look at me with desire quite a bit since I've been female. There are days it makes me feel nice, there are days it makes me feel absolutely shitty, depending on how I feel about my body/my mind that day, and who's doing the looking. By and large I am able to ignore it, and when a guy seems like he is about to proposition me I've got the art of polite rejection down.
But this is my friend. He's supposed to know me. I know all about the Inn magic, but part of me wishes that the fact that we've known each other for over a decade meant he was able to see past my long hair and nice breasts and realize he was talking to his best friend. And hopefully that would stop him. This not to mention the fact that he's dating a really great girl, Randi.
Then just as things were about to get super-awkward for me, in came a shockingly familiar face -- my own. I never thought of myself as a particularly tall guy, but my real body is head and shoulders above the 5'5 Tori (I am on break from heels.) He bounded in with confidence. "There you are! Justin, I see you've met Tori."
He spoke with such zeal, so boldly, so friendly to Justin you'd think they really had been friends all their lives. When I spoke to Willy on the phone he had a rather British accent, but I could tell he was putting on an "American" one that made him sound like the guy from House (who is British) and doesn't sound local to Buffalo at all. But I guess that's one of those things people don't think about.
They looked at each other and laughed, and I was deeply embarrassed to find out that Justin hadn't been hitting on me at all, they'd set the thing up as a joke. Randi came in after that and we got a booth.
Obviously, I was the object of conversational interest. They asked me all sorts of questions, things I expected to answer, my likes/dislikes, my background, stuff I could handle. My mission was to seem like "Cliff's" perfect girl, someone who shared his interests and understood him as a person. Maybe it sounds cheesy, but it was really amazing to play that role (only later did I get sad when I thought about the fact that such a girl may not exist in real life.)
By the end of the night, we had made plans to meet up again the next night after our family thanksgiving dinners, and then brave the Walden Galleria on Black Friday. Justin seemed suitably impressed (despite my just-off-the-buss look) and Randi seemed like she had found a new girl-friend... which is sad, because I will not be in her life for long, will I... as Cliff drove me home in my own car (I had wanted to drive but was definitely not sober, I hadn't seen him take a drink all night) we talked about what a success we had been, what a "smashing" couple we made, as he reverted to his more natural accent.
I made fun of his American accent. "Wot, d'ye not like it?" he asked, "I been practicin' for months, you should'a heard me when a'first got out here. I'da thought the accent changes with the body, but no. People was lookin' at me like I's an alien back in August, and now listen!" He switched to American "My name is Cliff, it's nice to meet you. Let's watch the Bills this Sunday."
I laughed at his antics. He's a very funny guy, very charismatic. he told me he learned accents because he used to act a bit, but never really had to polish up his American. I guess considering that, he's pretty good, seeing as how bad my British accent is. And that's having spent a lifetime watching Monty Python...
We got back to my apartment - Cliff's apartment - and I walked around, taking note of all the things he'd moved, and all the things he'd kept the same. "I'm gonna make a pot of tea, you want some?" Sure. We spent the evening talking, late into the night, just talking, him about England, me answering his questions about who John Henry Clifford really is... it's sad to realize there are things I don't even know about myself.
Around 2 AM, we were on the couch and I was drifting off, but a thought occurred to me, so I told him, "If you want... you can tell them we did it. I mean, that's what they think I'm here for. It'll make you look cool, and I don't mind..."
"Now, that wouldn't be very gentlemanly," he sighed, "I don't intend on tellin' them anything that didn't actually happen. I respect yer virtue too much."
He smiled, I laughed. "Well, that's nothing they haven't heard before... Cliff can't close the deal."
"You're all right, Cliff. You're a sharp guh--" I could tell he was gonna say "girl" but stopped himself and changed it halfway to "guy."
"Well, I'd better get to bed..." I said, "Thanksgiving is a pretty exhausting day even if you're well-rested."
"I have to admit I'm a wee bit excited to see exactly what the fuss is about. We haven't anything like it back home, from what I seen on the telly."
I laughed again, still slightly inebriated, "Haha, the telly. If my dad heard the way you talk... oh, brother."
He ushered me into my room even after I offered to take the couch. "Now now, we won't be having that," he insisted, "I am only a guest in yer body, and I insist on treating you fairly."
I changed into my pajamas and slung my bra over the side of the bed, taking a moment to take in how foreign the image of women's clothes in my room really looked. not only that, but being undressed, letting my breasts see the air, in a room that was once my private sanctum, felt more scandalous than it should have. This used to be my place, but now I really did feel like an outsider.
I noticed the lingering body odor of Cliff on the pillows and sheets. The strangeness of it, nothing I would have noticed when I was me... I fell asleep nestled deep in the mattress trench made by my old body.
More to come
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Cliff/Tori: Open book test
I am not Tori. Not yet, anyway.
I look like her, I wear her clothes, her jewelery. I paint her nails sometimes and have worn her make-up. Everyone calls me by her name. When I look in the mirror, it's her I see, but I think there's still a difference between my playing Tori and if I was being Tori. I think that takes time. I've read this blog cover to cover by now, some periods I've re-read too. Art and Jake aren't Art and Jake anymore, they're Penny and Ashlyn. Those are their lives and they have spent enough time living them, and they were handed over the controls to them. I'm still Cliff, and all the things I don't know about the woman I am supposed to be could fill a book. Several books, in fact.......
It all started a few weekends ago, after my little Halloween layabout. I've definitely bonded with Mae in a way Tori wouldn't have, probably because she, being a tomboy, has a bit of dislike for the girly-girlness of Tori. I'm trying to bring "Tori" and Cliff closer together so I can really be comfortable until I get my body back *(knock on wood!) And I guess that person is just someone Mae is more interested in talking to.
So of course there's still a bit of hostility but it's more kidding, more friendly. We've bonded.
And I mean, we've bonded to the point where she is telling me a lot about her life, specifically her relationship with Ed.
I mainly just listen, and when she asks for advice I try to give my honest opinion, but it's clearly not the same opinion as a girl of Tori's age and experience would have. It my be better, because when she complains about not understanding what Ed means when he says he's doing something, I might understand better than a real woman.
But understand how overwhelmed I am by this development. I have had female friends, but they kept me in the dark about their sex lives, and those few relationships I had never had sex lives to speak of. No woman has ever told me what she really thinks about sex or dating or anything. It's a complete mystery to me. Do women like having sex? I never even thought about it, I assumed it was just something they put up with.
I haven't... done... what Greg has done, because part of me does not want to know. I don't want that side of Tori to be opened up in me because in a way, I'd rather never know the answers than find out something I don't want to.
So Mae tells me last weekend that she and Ed have started to get serious enough that she wants to start having sex with him, to lose her virginity to him, in the near future, probably by the end of the year. And I really did not know what to say about that. She was clearly looking for the response of a woman who has had her fair share of sex, who might have regrets or advice or anything, but I was just... blank, obviously. Male or female I have lived my life sexually neutral, not for lack of trying.
Now, if I can barely imagine what sex is like for a man, then I have absolutely no clue what sex is like for a woman. I think she wanted me to either sell her on it, or to dissuade her and tell her it's not worth it. And I couldn't say either. As much as I've grown protective of Mae - she really is like my little sister, and I don't want some punk getting with her and hurting her. But it would be a bit hypocritical of me to warn her off that, because of how much time and energy I spent in my life trying to get laid, and I know not all teenage boys are supercreeps.
So I told her what any stupid book might've, which is, you know, be smart, be safe, um, don't make fun of his penis. She seemed underwhelmed by what I had to say. I was too. She actually got a little mad at me, because she thought I was holding out on her. She wanted to know what it was like for me. The fact that I couldn't answer the question "What was your first time like for you?" really seemed to set her off, set us back on our bonding. It really hurt.
When I realized what had happened, I started digging through Tori's stuff for artifacts of her life, things that would tell me what I needed. I hit the jackpot when I unearthed her diaries.
They were in a giant box in her closet, not terribly discrete but then again she'd just moved back home. Eight books of varying shapes and sizes, one a year dating back to junior high. They're not all full, but they're organized. I flipped open the first one, and immediately regretted it, and not just because it was, well, the very unfocused thoughts of a 12-year-old girl. I felt guilty, and I felt scared.
It's stupid to feel guilty. I know these thoughts were never meant to be read by anyone other than Tori, but at the same time, it's a part of the world I have landed in, and it's the easiest way to answer all the questions I have about the life I am living. This life is, at least for now, as much mine as it was the girl who wrote these. What right does she have to keep secrets from me? If I wanted to, I could go out and sully her good name, ruin her life, her fate is in my hands, and if she can't trust me with her past, what am I doing living in her present?
I respect her right to privacy, but speaking as someone who has access to her naked body whenever I want it, it's a bit much to ask that I not read any of these books. (And it's not like she has verbally requested I not do it. I haven't even spoken to her lately.)
So what's to stop me? Like I said... fear. Fear of what I might uncover. Fear that it might somehow mutate my mind beyond what's already happened. I know it's stupid, but you know, whatever's in those books, once I read them, can't be un-read. I'm worried that putting myself so deeply into Tori will force me away from Cliff. I don't know what I'm getting into here.
I know, it's... stupid. Stupidly complicated. I'm over-analyzing as always.
I think I'm probably going to get around to reading them, one way or the other. The curiosity, frankly, is killing me.
Lastly, I will also be going back to Buffalo this week for Thanksgiving. I have mixed feelings about this, but I've missed my family a lot and I want to make sure Willy is doing okay by my life. I know it'll be weird, my family seeing me in this state, but I just realized that the last three months have been the longest I've gone without speaking to my parents. Funny how they'll never know that. Perhaps I will bring those diaries for reading material on the bus.
I look like her, I wear her clothes, her jewelery. I paint her nails sometimes and have worn her make-up. Everyone calls me by her name. When I look in the mirror, it's her I see, but I think there's still a difference between my playing Tori and if I was being Tori. I think that takes time. I've read this blog cover to cover by now, some periods I've re-read too. Art and Jake aren't Art and Jake anymore, they're Penny and Ashlyn. Those are their lives and they have spent enough time living them, and they were handed over the controls to them. I'm still Cliff, and all the things I don't know about the woman I am supposed to be could fill a book. Several books, in fact.......
It all started a few weekends ago, after my little Halloween layabout. I've definitely bonded with Mae in a way Tori wouldn't have, probably because she, being a tomboy, has a bit of dislike for the girly-girlness of Tori. I'm trying to bring "Tori" and Cliff closer together so I can really be comfortable until I get my body back *(knock on wood!) And I guess that person is just someone Mae is more interested in talking to.
So of course there's still a bit of hostility but it's more kidding, more friendly. We've bonded.
And I mean, we've bonded to the point where she is telling me a lot about her life, specifically her relationship with Ed.
I mainly just listen, and when she asks for advice I try to give my honest opinion, but it's clearly not the same opinion as a girl of Tori's age and experience would have. It my be better, because when she complains about not understanding what Ed means when he says he's doing something, I might understand better than a real woman.
But understand how overwhelmed I am by this development. I have had female friends, but they kept me in the dark about their sex lives, and those few relationships I had never had sex lives to speak of. No woman has ever told me what she really thinks about sex or dating or anything. It's a complete mystery to me. Do women like having sex? I never even thought about it, I assumed it was just something they put up with.
I haven't... done... what Greg has done, because part of me does not want to know. I don't want that side of Tori to be opened up in me because in a way, I'd rather never know the answers than find out something I don't want to.
So Mae tells me last weekend that she and Ed have started to get serious enough that she wants to start having sex with him, to lose her virginity to him, in the near future, probably by the end of the year. And I really did not know what to say about that. She was clearly looking for the response of a woman who has had her fair share of sex, who might have regrets or advice or anything, but I was just... blank, obviously. Male or female I have lived my life sexually neutral, not for lack of trying.
Now, if I can barely imagine what sex is like for a man, then I have absolutely no clue what sex is like for a woman. I think she wanted me to either sell her on it, or to dissuade her and tell her it's not worth it. And I couldn't say either. As much as I've grown protective of Mae - she really is like my little sister, and I don't want some punk getting with her and hurting her. But it would be a bit hypocritical of me to warn her off that, because of how much time and energy I spent in my life trying to get laid, and I know not all teenage boys are supercreeps.
So I told her what any stupid book might've, which is, you know, be smart, be safe, um, don't make fun of his penis. She seemed underwhelmed by what I had to say. I was too. She actually got a little mad at me, because she thought I was holding out on her. She wanted to know what it was like for me. The fact that I couldn't answer the question "What was your first time like for you?" really seemed to set her off, set us back on our bonding. It really hurt.
When I realized what had happened, I started digging through Tori's stuff for artifacts of her life, things that would tell me what I needed. I hit the jackpot when I unearthed her diaries.
They were in a giant box in her closet, not terribly discrete but then again she'd just moved back home. Eight books of varying shapes and sizes, one a year dating back to junior high. They're not all full, but they're organized. I flipped open the first one, and immediately regretted it, and not just because it was, well, the very unfocused thoughts of a 12-year-old girl. I felt guilty, and I felt scared.
It's stupid to feel guilty. I know these thoughts were never meant to be read by anyone other than Tori, but at the same time, it's a part of the world I have landed in, and it's the easiest way to answer all the questions I have about the life I am living. This life is, at least for now, as much mine as it was the girl who wrote these. What right does she have to keep secrets from me? If I wanted to, I could go out and sully her good name, ruin her life, her fate is in my hands, and if she can't trust me with her past, what am I doing living in her present?
I respect her right to privacy, but speaking as someone who has access to her naked body whenever I want it, it's a bit much to ask that I not read any of these books. (And it's not like she has verbally requested I not do it. I haven't even spoken to her lately.)
So what's to stop me? Like I said... fear. Fear of what I might uncover. Fear that it might somehow mutate my mind beyond what's already happened. I know it's stupid, but you know, whatever's in those books, once I read them, can't be un-read. I'm worried that putting myself so deeply into Tori will force me away from Cliff. I don't know what I'm getting into here.
I know, it's... stupid. Stupidly complicated. I'm over-analyzing as always.
I think I'm probably going to get around to reading them, one way or the other. The curiosity, frankly, is killing me.
Lastly, I will also be going back to Buffalo this week for Thanksgiving. I have mixed feelings about this, but I've missed my family a lot and I want to make sure Willy is doing okay by my life. I know it'll be weird, my family seeing me in this state, but I just realized that the last three months have been the longest I've gone without speaking to my parents. Funny how they'll never know that. Perhaps I will bring those diaries for reading material on the bus.
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