Val: Long stories short

Sorry if these posts have become so few and far between but when the world changes so fast it becomes a mite bit hard to figure out when to stop and talk about it. Over the last two months, talking about my own sorry life has been real low on my list of priorities, but I feel a little calm and comfortable now, and am just a bit in need of distraction, even if we as a city and country ain't nearly out of the woods yet.

After the wedding, Ariel and I both kind of recognized that what had happened between us was a one-off - two women in need grabbing a little piece of excitement from the best possible source. We had a single conversation loaded with nervous laughter where we both agreed to admit we had expected it a little based on all the buildup we had had, but that there wasn't more to it than that.

The idea was, we were going to go back to our normal lives. Ariel would give herself some time to move on from her relationship with Charli, and I would go back to pining over irritating men.

Then COVID happened, and suddenly we were all we had for company.

We both recognized early on the potential for danger here. We were two of each other's closest friends in the world, confidantes and emotional support at a time when everyone needed someone to fill that role. Complicating it could be a disaster.

True, I said, but in my experience, denying yourself something you want is a complication. It's simpler to give in and deal with the fallout later.

She smiled and said that's why I like you, you say stuff like that just when I need to hear it.

I added, it's more fun, too.

So began our sexual odyssey. We gave it a few weeks before confirming to Maddie what we were up to. She took it strangely, like she was disappointed in me, but understood it was my business. Eventually she adjusted, but she always maintained a weirdly conflicted attitude about it. Maybe she didn't like us becoming a faction. Maybe she was insecure about her formerly-supposedly-straight friend falling in with a girl, and her sister's ex at that. Part of me hoped it was because she wished she were in Ariel's place, but I pushed that aside and tried to appreciate the girl I had.

At times I had doubts myself. I had been pursuing men for so long it hadn't occurred to me to be with a woman in this way. I think because I felt such guilt over myself for my past relationships with women that being with men exclusively felt like my... punishment? Realizing I am bisexual as a woman was actually a hard step to take because I had to try to figure out whether I was just faking it to feel like Tyler again, or if I, Valerie, like this girl. And the answer is I do, because there is a lot to like.

I mean, she's beautiful, with tan skin and great hair and a really great fashion sense. And an incredible figure. She's funny, she's smart, she's informed. A joy to be around. She makes me feel good and - and I don't say this lightly - I feel like I can be myself around her.

After a few weeks of casual sex, we began to morph into an actual couple with the closest things you could think of to "dates" in lockdown. Movie nights, special dinners. She would light candles and read me poetry she loved (that would mostly go over my head). I would tell her long stories with no real point and make endless breakfasts. And at the same time we had all the perks of being girlfriends - long talks, fashion advice, gossip.

Sometime in May, it became a little tricky for me because I recognized I was on the verge of becoming vulnerable. I did some math and realized it had been years since I had really been in a relationship of equals. That would be Meg. At times my relationship with Kitty felt that way but it always had that element of just playing house, occupying time until we moved on to other things. This was the first time in a very, very long time I was with someone, fully and unambiguously.

It scared me. I became a little sensitive to relationship things. Wanted some space. Maybe even snapped at her once or twice.

And then something crazy happened.

We talked it out.

Without revealing that I used to be a man called Tyler who was victim of a magic Inn, I explained my past as best I could and how badly behaved I was in some past relationships, and how I was seeing similar behavior in myself again and I'd understand if she wanted to cut her losses. She told me she wanted to work with me through it, if that was what I wanted, and I broke down crying admitting, I do, I do. We kissed and made up.

I was falling in love.

So in June, when the world erupted in chaos and violence and protests about racial inequality, my Black girlfriend was insistent that I make fighting for what was right part of our relationship. And admittedly, I was a bit stuck in some of my old backward ways thinking this was all a lot, but she brought me up to speed and told me that this was her life, where she came from and what she is, and her need for me to see all of it and make her struggle part of mine.

It was one of those "Wow, I really am not Tyler anymore" things. Not that he was a racist, he just... didn't get things. The person I once was would probably never have put himself in danger even once, but it took me very little convincing.

I do feel guilty about how it all had to come about - relying on the person I am dating to explain the fine details of "systemic racism" to me, but I figure growth is a good thing by any means. And she seemed happy to help me because she wants me to be good.

It has been an overall turbulent few months, which I have summed up as quickly as I can because I don't have as much "alone time" to write in a blog anymore, but this is all to say in this crazy fucking world... I have found love. I am in love, I am loved, in ways I never expected. And yeah it's a little surprising that it's with a woman (which maybe that's still surprising that that's surprising but after everything I really saw myself with a man!) but if you know this woman you would not be surprised at all.

I don't know if this is the end for me at this blog. I know I have had a long-ass journey to get to a place where I feel this good all the time. There is still more to do to make me the Val I want to be. But if you don't hear from me again know that I left off on a good note.

Love and peace

Valerie

Daryl/Elaine: Time to Find Out

This is almost certainly a bad idea, but it's too late to turn back now, and if I didn't do it, I'd be second-guessing myself for the rest of my life, but, Jesus, it seems like a crazy leap.

It makes a little more sense if you know a bit about what I left out of the last update.  We were "just being friends", but we kind of played at being more.  Not by getting all syrupy in public or anything, but whenever something would strike as kind of ironic or funny considering our situation, we'd break out some exaggerated way of talking, with me playing the boyfriend half the time.  It was a joke, but it was also a way to accept that we were in a weird situation.

So, Tuesday, it's hot as hell in New York, enough that J.T. had actually mentioned that he missed booty shorts and a halter top being a viable outfit for him, and I decided, what the heck, only a few days of this left, and if anyone got a picture, it wouldn't stick to me.  That's kind of the funny thing about being turned into your girlfriend - it's actually not hard to make yourself all sexy in the mirror, even if you do wind up thinking that it's kind of a weird power trip at times, but stepping out the door is maybe twice as hard, because you've got both "do I want guys looking at me like that?" and "do I want guys looking at my woman like that?" going around your head.  But, it was hot, and I didn't want J.T. or Pete to think I'd chickened out.

Pete wasn't pay off the group Tuesday night, so I didn't have him to measure my drinks against (I've gotten into the habit of staying even or one drink behind him,  since he's smaller and thinner than Elaine as Brigette), and it, uh, enhanced the "singer's girlfriend" thing I was doing, so I wound up shooting "that was awesome baby!" (or, later, "woooooooooo!") rather than kind of saying it to myself.  J.T. wound up playing along, pointing at me the first time and comically rolling his eyes by the end.

Eventually, the gig ended, and I helped him move his gear to the car.  He hoped that the only thing missing from that was him inviting me up on stage.  I laugh, saying there were photographers and phones and Elaine didn't need to deal with any of that shit.  He nods, but says it's too bad, because he knows I've got the pipes for it.

It's hard to be modest, because I'd certainly complimented him when he had those pipes, and meant it.  But...  "Karaoke with friends is different than a stage in front of strangers.  Besides, those were y'all's songs, not mine."

"But you're a big part of them."

I didn't know what to say.  We'd arrived at his place, and I grabbed the guitar and mic stand while he picked up the amp.  We rode the escalator in silence, up to the tenth floor.  He unlocked it and I walked in, giving it a good look.  "So this is where you live in your real life."

It was nice, bigger than Brigette's, though not huge.  There were a couple awards on a mantel, a full-size keyboard, and a separate dining area, all fairly tidy.  I wondered how much dust had gathered while he was Elaine.

"Yep, this is me, although it's just starting to feel like home again.  And kind of plain."  He reached into the fridge and handed me a beer.

"It's nice.  Not much of my Elaine in it, though.  Or would that be your Elaine?"

"Yeah, I didn't keep any souvenirs.  Maybe I should have.  But until you showed up, I just..."  He trailed off, and then pointed at a blank space on the wall.  "Heck, I used to have a Josephine-Baker-in-Paris print over there, but I was having a hard time looking at it.  Made me remember and wonder what if."

I used the corner of my top to twist the off my bottle and took a swig before walking out onto the balcony.  "I should certainly hope you wondered what if.  I thought we had something special."

He walked up behind me.  "We did.  I told you things that I never told anybody else, and they were true, even if the facts weren't."

I laughed.  "So, basically, your parents pushed you into acting rather than math?"

"Pretty much.  Figured I'd have become a huge adult star by now, just like Wil Wheaton, Macauley Culkin, and Haley Joel Osment."

I snort-laughed.  "Obviously, you should have turned into a girl much earlier.  There's Jodie Foster, Dakota Fanning, Christina Ricci..."

"Don't think they wouldn't have considered it.  Kind of glad to be a man right now, though."

He put his hands on my shoulders, then kissed the base of my neck, and I felt my temperature go up.  "What're you doing?"

"Kissing my girlfriend.  Or maybe kissing my ex-boyfriend.  Do you like it?"

"Mm-hmm.  Of course I like it.  You're cheating, already knowing where it feels good."

"I suppose so."  His hands slid down my sides until they reached my midriff, then moved up underneath my top to cradle my breasts, gently stroking them with his thumb while each nipple rested between two fingers.  I gasped and made a half-step back, enough that I could feel him hardening when the small of my back made contact with his pelvis.  His teeth found the knot keeping my top on and disengaged it just slowly enough to build some anticipation, giving my brain just enough time to start working the buckle on my shorts.

We turned around and went back into the apartment as a unit; he instinctively knew I wasn't quite ready to be looking in a man's face while doing this yet.  Once I had pulled my shorts and panties down and planted my hands on an end table or something, he let go of one breast to work his own belt and zipper, then guided himself in from behind.  I moaned as he found my spot again and again, gently thrusting the tip of his unit over it, sending waves of pleasure through my body.  I felt something let go inside me as I came, and then he seemed to swell a bit more.

"Hang on," he said, pulling out of me and opening his wallet to find a rubber.  I didn't realize that's what he was doing, though, so I turned around, and I see his face go from being a little stained at holding back to being concerned that he'd upset me.  Something lightens in my chest and I say "put it on".  He does, and I guide him to the corner of the sofa.  I sit him down and then lower myself onto him, kissing him and then trying to find the rright rhythm as I moved up and down, thinking how is liked it when the roles were reversed, right down to his face in my rack.

It doesn't take him long to come, and he slumps back, spent.  I roll off of him and adopt a similar posture next to him, looking up at the ceiling.  "Well, fuck."

He looked concerned again.  "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, and that's the problem.  Right up until you, you know, got in there, I figured it would feel wrong, but it didn't and you were so nice, and now I know we've got something good.  But it's not like I can just steal Elaine's life!"  He shook his head in agreement and we had kind of a sad cuddle.

I must have fallen asleep there, because when I woke up I was in his bed and he was making waffles.  I figured we'd burned enough calories that Elaine wouldn't mind.  Despite all we'd done last night, it felt a little strange to kiss him before leaving to go back to Pete's place and get changed.

Pete was there and waiting for gossip.  I told him it had happened and was not what I expected, and he removed me that women always share details.  Fortunately, it was interrupted by a call from my own phone, telling me that he knew I must have gotten nervous by now, but there were more than enough people arriving at the Inn to change back tonight.

"That's good, that there are more than enough."  I took a deep breath.  "So, ______, you've been enjoying my life, right?"

"Yeah, man, and so's my girlfriend, if you know what I mean!  Heck, I'm actually kind of jealous of the job I landed for you."

"Good.  How would you like to do the full year?"

Pete's eyes billed as my voice on the other end of the phone stammered.  "What, dude, I was kidding!  Just because I said it would be weird to go home to a family of strangers... and you'd be stuck as a chick--"

"I know, it's just it turns out I've got something to see through."

"If you say so."  He tried to sound reluctant, but there was some relief in his voice.  He hadn't really been thrilled with the luggage he'd found in his room, even if he had been willing to help someone else get back to normal.

"I do."

"All right, man.  I don't get it, but all right."

We said goodbye and hung up, and Pete exploded.  "Are you crazy?  This is--"  He didn't have words.

I shrugged.  "He may be The One."

He shook his head. "That is one severe case of estrogen poisoning you've got there.  I can't even."  He was even more dumbfounded when I told him the whole plan.

Contrary to what you might expect, J.T. and I went our separate ways after the fireworks; that night was special and not to be repeated as such.  I slept at Pete's, and then got on a train to Old Orchard.

Pete was right about my head kind of overflowing with female hormones, and although I had certainly been asking for the ride, I also knew that there were a lot of people out there whose experience with the Inn does not exactly suggest that everything happens for a reason (or at least, not an obviously positive one).  But I certainly can't deny that it certainly feels like things have come together for me and J.T. in an unlikely-enough way that is hard not to talk about destiny.

So we're putting it in fate's hands.  I go to the Inn and get turned into another man, or a lesbian, or a kid, and it's not meant to be.  But if I stay Elaine, or become another woman, and there's still a spark...  Well, it's tough to argue with that.

So far, no change, and no luggage in my room, obviously.  But I've got a good feeling about this.  It didn't all happen for nothing.

-Daryl/Elaine

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

Tyler/Judith: Who is the man, here?

To "seal the deal," as it were, for my new relationship with Kitty, I invited him along to the 30th Anniversary that I had been planning for work for Saturday night. It was fair as planner that I got to bring along a guest, and I wanted him to see me in my element. I got to wear a headset to co-ordinate the servers and cooks and bartenders... not that I'm a micromanager by any means, but it was cool to be able to direct traffic. Looking around at the floral arrangements, the catering, the whole thing ticking like clockwork... I was quite pleased with what I had done for my first effort.

"This is all very impressive," Kitty said, observing the venue. I noticed with a bit of disappointment that he his eyes trailed slightly along with the nubile young female relatives of the happy couple... but then, so did I.

"I know," I said, brushing that away, "Thirty years, who would have thought?"

"I can't remember what Chett and I did for our last big anniversary. Dinner, I guess." There was such a note of sadness, or at least distance, in his voice.

It wasn't an ideal memory to call up - we do sometimes bring up our exes around each other, but not usually when we're in good spirits. I don't talk much about my time before the Inn at all, and even try not to refer to Meg very often (we are on what I think are good terms, for us.)

Other than that, the night was largely a success with great food and plenty of booze. We took a long walk in the cold after getting home.

He seemed very distracted, lost in thought, so I thought I would bring him back down to Earth with a kiss. It seemed to wake him up and we headed home quickly so we could engage in our favourite new hobby. He's getting better. We're getting better at it.

Afterwards, naked and sweaty and cuddling, he asked me if I liked Judith's work.

"Sure," I said. "It's pretty involved, lots of moving parts. Rewarding in its own way, when you get to see the end result."

"A-huh," he said. "I just worry, you know. I make plenty of money for both of us, and... well, Chett was a bit of a workaholic."

"Where are you going with this?"

"I don't know. I like things the way they were. You mostly at home, waiting for me when my day was done. I don't want you to slip away and become a... too much of a career gal."

"Excuse me?" I said, rather offended.

"I just don't want this to become your whole life. I mean, we're out of here in the Spring, right? Why upset the status quo if that was working? I just think if more opportunities like this come up, you should think twice before jumping at the opportunity. We've got a good thing."

I was upset by this - hurt and confused - but I'm doing this new thing where I try not to react right away, and instead of getting angry and violent (not as in hitting, just as in yelling and slamming of doors,) I try to be... calm about it. I think estrogen is a good medicine for that (although not a cure-all by any means!)

"I... listen. I wanted to do this. I was getting bored. I'll be bored again. And there are a lot of upsides. Judith encourages me to help her career path along because it's what she wants to be doing... and it helps us put away a bit more money for our own lives, wherever that takes us. It's win-win."

He considered what I had said but only for a second. "We don't need the money."

I was starting to get flustered. "Well, we're not exactly... you know, I would think you were used to having a bit more."

"What I'm more used to is... a man who works, and a wife who takes care of the home."

Sometimes I think Kitty is even older than her 50-some years. Like she's from my Grandmother's generation. But I guess when you're used to having money, your values stay that way a little longer.

My heart sank a bit. I'm trying to be better, understand, compromise on things. So I admitted that while I may have had a knack for Judith's job, and I didn't really see the harm in increasing my presence there... I would consider her perspective. If it's important enough for her to bring it up, you know. There was still a little bit of Tyler inside of me that really didn't like being told what to do, but the "New Me" is trying to, well, overcome that a bit. I can be a wifey. Sure.

So after that, time passes and things get a bit more routine. I'm learning to swallow my pride and be more co-operative where Kitty is concerned, and play along with this "Housewife" routine, and really, it has its perks. It's hard as a man, a proud man, to admit you don't mind being looked after financially, to take pride in playing Suzie Homemaker, but it's tough work and deserves to be admired.

He's pretty appreciative.

By that I mean he wants to screw, like, all the time. He goes for it just about every night. And it's kind of nice to be in the position where it's up to my whim whether we do or not. It's been a strange few years, with my sex drive being cranked up and down... like I'm sorry to say, even though I do enjoy the rush and the new pleasure of finally exploring this aspect of Judith's body, I just don't... need it that badly (I figure this is just a feature of Judith's body, why I was able to go months without even really thinking about it.) Not that I want him begging for it, just... it's a thing. Sometimes I do it even if I'm not feeling like it, and the results are usually "fine, but need we have bothered?"

Anyway. Before you know it, it's Valentine's Day, and... well, this is his first Valentine's Day as a man. And we realized the Saturday before it that we didn't have any plans. So he asks me what I want to do and I say I don't really care, it's midweek so we're usually pretty tired, and there's Dylan to think about and... well, should we even bother?

And he says of course, we're a couple, we love each other don't we? (I'm still grappling with whether I do or not, but... sure, let's say I do.) We should make a big deal, celebrate "us" and how far we've come. And I say okay, whatever he's up for, I'll do my part: sexy dress, lacey underwear, red lipstick, seduction, the whole nine yards (I'm didn't say as much but that was what I implied) if he works out something for us to do that night. And he turns it around on me and says "Why didn't you plan anything?"

So it's like... excuse me, what's my part here? Am I on the hook for everything because I used to be a man and stereotypically that would have been my job? He was the one who wanted to get into a more traditional husband-wife setup. I don't deserve to be "treated"? What's the rule? What does he want from me? And do I want the same things?

It's not that I don't care about V-tine's Day, I can be as romantic as anyone when I'm really head over heels, but... something about our situation already feels so lived-in and old-shoe comfortable that it didn't occur to me. I'd be happy with a night in, but it seems like that wasn't enough.

Again, instead of making it a big thing, I just kind of sat quietly and pouted about it... and so did he. It was a tense few hours, and then we got over ourselves and made some arrangements, and... it was nice, we left Dyl with Sam and went to a French restaurant (my suggestion as we've handled events there and it has a good reputation - so I guess he got me to plan something after all) He was very lovey-dovey, picked me up some roses and a necklace to wear for the night, and got his seduction, and now things are fine. (I also got him some flowers, which he seemed to enjoy more than I enjoyed mine, and a tie.)

But I've just been racking my brain for a few days since, trying to figure it all out. Nothing's been resolved and I feel like this is going to keep being a problem. It's left a bitter taste in my mouth, but I'm trying to hide it a bit and convince myself it's just an awkward growing phase as we try to figure out exactly how things are supposed to work between us.

If we really do love each other, we can get through it... I'm sure...

-TJ

Tyler/Judith: If you're going to do it, do it right

The whole business between me a Kitty the other night wasn't really as simple as throwing some confetti in the air and announcing to the world, "Hooray, I like sex now!" From the moment it ended I was grappling with the heavy implications of what I had done, or let happen. Good for Simon for finding random encounters that he can dabble with without long term connections. I have to see this person every day, and I hadn't even officially said I really wanted to be with them.

I wouldn't say my immediate feeling was 100% disappointment or regret, but those were parts of it. Disappointment because it was... more cathartic than sexually enjoyable. And you only get that once. He wasn't good, and I wasn't good. He got "in" and didn't hardly know how to move before the clock ran out. And I was, well... not that accommodating either. But is bad sex even really bad? Just... you know, different. Not what was expected, necessarily.

He apologized profusely, and I said it wasn't necessary. It happened to everyone, and just because Kitty appears to be a man of a certain age, we know he does not have the expected level of experience for that person. On the contrary, we're total beginners, here. And I think we know how much of a learning curve there is for this sorta thing. Just ask Maggie Dolan down in Mobile about 16-year-old Tyler Blake.

As to regret, well, the thought occurred to me that I had wrecked a good thing. That there was a way to get through the rest of our term here without complicating it with sex and emotions. That even if he really does love me, that maybe that love would be better off waiting for a time when we don't have such a complex dynamic. I've been known to screw up and bail when things go poorly, and right now too many peoples' lives depend on me to fall prey to that urge. (Kit's advice: so just don't this time.) And I'd be lying if I said my male pride didn't like the idea of outlasting the female body without ever crossing that threshold. But I think even readers who have never crossed the gender barrier will understand that when you have a new appliance, you can only go so long before the temptation to see how it really works overwhelms you. It don't make me less of a man, it just makes me human.

"I don't regret it," I said... probably not that reassuring. I initiated it, I pointed myself at it. I wanted it. I knew he would have me anytime I allowed it to happen, and I knew it just... had to be this way. So how can I regret it? Better this way.

So we're gonna do it again, as is our right as consenting adults. I went to the drug store, to the marital aid aisle (for my pill, initially,) and decided to pick up some accessories. Nothin' fancy, but some stuff that might make your sunday school teacher blush. Condoms, obviously. A lot of em. I'd consider the pill - I heard it'd help ease some of my symptoms, while screwing with other parts of my biochemistry. Not willing to make that trade yet, and honestly not sure it's worth the investment at this time. I also bought a few varieties of lubrication... even if the rubbers are lubricated, Judith's body is no spring chicken and it couldn't hurt. This all, I bought at the far CVS, wearing sunglasses and a pulled down cap with my hair in an unusual ponytail.

The hardest part was "the talk." I always hated talking things out in my past lives... I always felt everyone involved should know where they stand somehow without speaking it, and yet... that has worked terribly for me in the past. So I sat down with a notepad and wrote a few talking points.

When he got home from work, I sat him down and laid it out.

"First, no shame about what happened our first time. The first time sucks, full stop. There'll be more. Practice makes perfect and all that. You're, uh, probably going to want to initiate that more often than I will, and I invite you to do so. I will remind you that I'm free to decline any time at my discretion. As before, we don't owe each other sex."

He looked at me in puzzlement: "I mean, you're free to decline if I initiate, but I don't expect you will." He nodded his head to the side, allowing that.

"We'll have to work on foreplay and stamina... I wanna find out what I like, what gets me going, and I want you to last long enough to give it to me. Do you have any specific comments on my performance?"

"Hmm, only that this whole conversation is really killing my mood," he laughed.

"Fair," I said moving on. "I think we have a pretty good sense of our rights and responsibilities in this relationship. Who does what, and how... I respect you as a lead provider, hopefully you respect me as both a lead home-maker and fellow breadwinner."

"Um, sure."

"That's a way of sayin' I do a lot."

"Right."

"I need you to know I will resist any attempts to assert yourself as a sole 'head of household' type. No authoritarianism. We go forward together or not at all. Right?"

"You think I'm authoritarian?"

"No, not that I'm real worried about that, but it needs saying. We're partners."

"Okay."

"If I piss you off, I wanna hear about it, but in a rational, straight-forward way, and I'll give you the same courtesy."

"Okay."

"We have a lot of disagreements about how things should be done. There's gotta be some give and take."

"What does that mean?" he asked, "You'll finally start rinsing the dishes before putting them in the dishwasher?"

"If that's what I takes to make you happy, maybe," I smiled. "But I don't wanna feel like I'm just rolling over for you. If I make a stand, will ya hear me out?"

"I guess."

"It's a pick-your-battles thing."

"Right, okay."

"And about Dylan... that's always a point of debate, right? But we already know how to negotiate a bit with him."

He sighed, and later told me he felt I didn't give his perspective enough credit where Dylan was concerned.

But in the moment all he said was, "Where's all this coming from?"

"You know, it's been kicking around my head for weeks."

"No, I mean, all this official-sounding talk. Where do you get it from?"

"Hm, well, I have some of the business calls I make to thank for that. Contracts I read. And I've been studying business books."

"I see."

I went on, "Bottom line there... we're raising a kid because we have to, we're dating because we want to."

"Dating isn't the word I'd use..." he said.

"Really...?"

"We're basically married, Judith."

"Ah, but... we're not. Right? Hence this discussion."

"But dating sounds so... light. Casual."

"Okay, we're 'together' because we want to be. Partnered. Coupled."

"Whatever," he sighed.

I dropped it, but to be honest he'll never get me to say we actually are "married."

"Point is, it can end. We can end it in a way married couples can't. God forbid, it doesn't work out, we don't need to get divorced. We just... you know... part ways."

He gritted his teeth. That obviously wasn't something he wanted to think about, and it was probably the "old Tyler" surfacing, hedging my bets. I moved forward quickly.

"Lastly... you love me?"

He squinted. "That's a question?"

"You've said it a few times. Does it bug you that I haven't said it back?"

He pursed his lips and nodded.

I took a deep breath: "I'm falling for you."

He looked away. Not good enough, I realized.

"I'm falling in love with you," I clarified.

He brightened up but just a shade.

"Please, this ain't easy. I'm trying to get through a lotta shit here. My own hangups aren't your fault. You somehow love me despite them. Six months ago I thought we were done. But you've changed, I've changed. And you had a big part in that... helping to make me better. I was a wild dog, even with Meghan. You've helped rein me in and... I'm better for it. I love that."

"That's great," he said flatly. I guess he wasn't feeling my point.

"You make me a great husband," I said, moving toward him. "You're dependable, determined... and yet, you can also be playful. And you're sexy when I see you having fun."

He couldn't suppress a smile. "Jude..."

"You're a sexy man, Kitty. You turn me on."

"Judith..."

"What are you gonna do about it?" I took his hand and guided it over the curve of my chest. "Say my name again, I love hearing it on your lips."

He whispered in my ear, "Judith..."

So help me.

We fell back on the bed and began to make out like a pair of teenagers. I had my hands on the button of his slacks, when we were interrupted by somebody coming home.

"Mom! Dad! Tyler's here, when's dinner?"

Aw, shoot. "To be continued," I sighed.

He smacked his head. "After all that waiting."

Tyler/Judith/Whoever I really am now: Here's how it happened

Tuesday after he came home from work, Kit found me lying in bed with the blinds drawn. I was half-undressed. I had been zoned out for probably an hour or so.

He was clearly irritated, since even on days when I work I tend to be "on top" of the night's meal. I had dropped Dylan off at his friend's place and since I had gotten back I was just... out of it. I murmured, "You can order something if you like, I'm not hungry."

To his credit, he sensed all was not well and asked if this had to do with the dream I had posted about. I didn't want to admit it did - just a stupid dream and not even a particularly meaningful one. I thought writing out those meaningless details would end my angst about it. But it set off a chain of thought inside me and I couldn't shake it all day. So I said "yeah, maybe."

"What about it?" he asked.

I cut right to the point: "I don't know if I'm me anymore."

"What are you talking about?" he said with a bit of a laugh, "You know as well as I do that deep down, you're Tyler Blake. Your body, your sex, doesn't define you."

I sighed, a light tear fell down my cheek "This isn't about that."

"Well then what is it about?"

"I mean... is Tyler Blake me? Something deep down inside of me that I carry around, or is it a piece of meat... a body I left behind a long time ago? Just a name I used to have?"

"You lost me."

"You told me you love me, but you don't even fucking know me. You think I'm nice and domestic and motherly, but that's just because I... I look like this and I have to be this way for now. And I'll leave this body behind soon and I'll, I dunno, I'll probably go back to being the self-destructive, selfish asshole I was before."

"You won't."

"You don't know."

"I do, because you never were that."

"Tell that to Meghan, who will always hate me at least a little. Tell that to the girl I ran away from before that. You don't know what I've done. What I'm capable of. How I've lost good things and wrecked my life, how I've been terrible to others because I... I'm fucking broken."

He took a pause and sighed. "I do know what you're capable of, I see it every day. I've seen you at your worst, when you were out driving gangsters around in Milwaukee, and I know you're better than that. I've seen you at your best... and I've seen it a lot lately. Whatever's happened to you, it's a good thing."

I shrugged, "Either I'm still that person deep down, just pretending to be a 'Judith,' or... or who we really are is easier to erase than it should be."

"Not erase... change," he said, putting his hands on my shoulders. "But one thing is true. This whole experience has taught me how unimportant the past is. None of our baggage really matters anymore once you're in a new life."

"It does. I still think of every mistake I've ever made, every day. It will never go away."

He said, "It doesn't. Your body changes, your name changes, and suddenly nobody cares where you've been. You don't have to pretend to be the person you look like, but you can be the person you really want to be, free from the people and things in your life that told you you couldn't be that. And it's not pretending, it's real. You have changed, Tyler. And that's not a bad thing."

Then he said again, "I love you. For you."

I sat up and looked at him. I felt this rush, like... like all my walls breaking down. Like I was letting go of something I've held onto far too long.

I don't know whether it was out of love or just a need to seal up the moment somehow, but we ended up doing it. He needed a little "coaxing," which surprised me considering how often I have observed him nursing a subtle hard-on in bed, but that's probably just because I was so sudden about it. I thought it would involve more planning, but it was time. We just rushed into it, damning everything that might have spoiled the mood - including, stupidly, a condom (I ended up taking a morning-after pill the next day. Misnomer: it's actually two pills taken hours apart.) I'd love to report it was some kind of life-changing experience, but my mind was still way too far away to actually enjoy it. There were pleasurable aspects, but either Jude's body isn't totally wired for pleasure anymore or I was still subconsciously fighting it despite my honest desire. It was also, all due respect to Kitty and to Adrian, about a minute long.

Still, that's one long-delayed rite of passage finally through with. Suppose I'll find an excuse to try again, and I hope it doesn't require another emotional breakdown.

I rolled over and let him wrap his thick, hairy arms around me. I whispered very quietly, "I think I love you too."

We'll see if I can live up to it.

-Tyler/Judith

Tori: How old am I?

It's been... well, quite a weekend.

Mike took me to a party at the house of one of his grad school friends'. It was literary-themed, so I went as Lady Mad Hatter (sparkly purple jacket, bustier, fishnets and top hat of course) and we got him a red checked topcoat and bunny ears so he could be the White Rabbit (I was hoping for gender-swapped Alice, but oh well.) The party was very chill - there was a lot of activity in the kitchen (where Mike was holding court) but I settled in with some couples in the living room, where we sat around on the couches and drank wine, which is more my pace lately.

Unfortunately, the weather's unpredictability lately has really made me feel gross, and I started to get a really serious headache around 11, so I went to find Mike. "Hey, you can stay if you want, but I kind of just want to go home and crawl into bed."

He looked really disappointed in me, asked if maybe I could take some Advil or anything, and I said I would stay longer if he really wanted me to, but I was feeling drowsy and I would quite like to split early if he was cool with it.

He let me go. I felt terrible for leaving, and I wished he would want to come home and take care of me, but I didn't want him to leave the party on my account. Conflicting emotions that resulted in me really having to fight back tears my whole way home. Stupid PMS.

I got home and started to undress for bed, leaving the costume in a heap on the floor and scrubbing my makeup off. I moved from the vanity to the full-body mirror to give myself a good look, to take stock of the way my boobs hang, my butt flattens, my muffin top bunches up. Not that I necessarily mind any of this - I'm not tight little 22-year-old Tori anymore, in the body that intimidated me when I first got here. I carry my wear-and-tear proudly, and honestly I think it makes me feel real, at home with myself, and downright sexy. I wasn't meant to be the pin-up in the body I inherited, I was meant to be me.

We all change over time, usually too subtly to notice... I just happen to have a more recent starting point to reference, a vivid idea of what that girl looked like when she first appeared in my mirror. With some tricks and cheats, I can still look like her, and I've got many more years ahead of being a babe, I'm sure. But when I let it all hang out, I'm... this.

It's not perfect, but I like it - love it, own it - but it leads me to my next thought.

I'm old. Older than I seem, anyway.

I will never quite look as old as I really am. I was born for the first time in 1982, which means I am in reality a 33-year-old person. That being is stuffed into a 28-year-old body, which has really seen a lot in the past five years. I know that doesn't make me a senior citizen, but while I reveled in my youth when I got that extra five years back, that time is now gone and I am older to the world than I was when I went to the Inn. I'm ready to slow down. Is that reasonable at 28, or is it because, in my mind, I'm 33?

This is a stupid dilemma to be having, but also a serious one. Is my brain 5 years ahead of my body? Who am I really? Just when I thought I knew, I found a new thing to obsess about.  I practically wanted to book a CAT scan just to see if my brain looked like that of a 33-year-old man, but I don't think I would want to know if it does.

 Basically, I'm just tired.

On my worst days, I feel like I cheated the aging process, and now feel irrationally afraid of the fact that this is the body I will continue to age in, grow old in, maybe even have a baby in.

Mike came over an hour later - definitely earlier than he would have if I had stayed as long as he wanted - and found me curled up in bed with a book and a glass of water, trying to ignore my anxiety. He crawled into bed next to me and I let him fold me up in my arms. We talked a bit about how I was feeling, and I gave him the abridged version about how I was really feeling "my age." He reassured me that the best years were ahead, and I told him I agreed. Then he said "Besides, there's nothing wrong with staying in bed as long as you want. You've earned it."

He started to kiss and caress me and for a second I thought of uttering that time-honored phrase: Not tonight I have a headache. But if we're being honest, I've always found a good tumble helps with that.

As long as I don't have to do too much.

I love him. I am fighting the urge to tell him just yet because I know it's going to scare him, but we're very stable, and he gives me so much attention and reassurance. It's not perfect, I'd like him to be more available to me, but when he's with me, I really feel it.

Tori: Things are good...right?

Sometimes I regret the fact that I never experienced sex as a man. The few women (mostly one woman) I ever had in my life did give me a certain level of intimacy, but basically 99.9% of my experience is from the female side of the equation. It would be nice to know what it is like to be a man exerting his power over a female partner - and arguably that desire is what led me to pursue my arrangement with Chuck and Jules earlier this year (ultimately, I didn't feel so assertive when we came down to it.) There will always be doubt about what could have been, but I've made my peace with that, it's part of me for the rest of my life. For the most part I'm pretty happy with the way things have worked out. And for the a lot of that part, I'm ecstatic.

Men can be disappointing. Not just as sexual partners, where even the best can be very inconsistent (whereas I seem to be able to accomplish my goal for them just by being present - I've won some of my highest marks on nights when I simply did nothing at all.) but as emotional support. Loving them is difficult.

I like Cute Hipster Mike a lot. I'm very happy with him. He's friendly, funny, charming, sweet, smart... he's not some mindless careerist, he has his own definition of success in life that I find really appealing.

And he's, well... good in bed. Great. Amazing. When he wants to be. We can go for long, long periods of time some nights, and at times when most men would be peaking, he has just been getting started. That's amazing. He has moves I've never seen before. And while in my quieter moments I sometimes let myself think "What if things had turned out different," in the heat of the moment, there's no time for such thoughts, because the only thing going through my head is "Yes, yes, more! I want to be fucked like this for the rest of my life!" He makes me feel like an incredible being of pure sexual delight, and he makes me feel sexy and desirable in a way I couldn't have been in my old life. In a way I couldn't even have been at an earlier point in this life. When we're at our best, when I'm feeling his movement radiating through my entire body, his hands guiding my hips or massaging my soft parts, I feel like I am where I belong.

But he has his off nights too, where he just doesn't seem that into it, where he just wants it quickly and doesn't take as much care as he could. So I settle for what I can get and wait for next time. it's not bad, and it's unfair to expect 110% every time out, but when someone gets you hooked on fine dining, a microwave dinner doesn't really cut it.

That's sort of a metaphor for our whole relationship, too. He likes me a lot, he makes that clear. We're not sure yet if it's love, and he's resisted attempts for me to label it. But what's wrong with wanting a little stability? It's been months. We should be stable. I feel like we're past the "Oh, it's still new" phase. I don't have any doubts, and I don't know where his would be coming from. But maybe I'm skipping ahead a bit.

I'm falling for him. The L-word is imminent. But if I let it out and he doesn't have one ready to match it... guys, that's going to hurt.

Sometimes he takes too long to respond to my texts and I get worried. Sometimes he blows me off at the last minute, but he apologizes profusely. And I try not to let it sting, but... I can't like him less than I do, and I can't seem to make him need me the way I'm starting to need him. I've never felt so out of sync with someone I liked so much, and so desperate to make it work.

I'm one frustrated girl.

But when it's good... when we're lying on the couch watching late night TV, when I get to wake up with him on a Sunday morning, when he does send me thoughtful texts or cute in jokes... my heart gets all fluttery.

Who is this guy? What is this power he has over me?

I mean, who would have thought being a girl would make me such a... girl?

Tori: The Long Run

You already know I made a little trip to NYC on Labor Day weekend. I haven't been to NYC all that much since living in Philly - a couple of times a year when I need a nice little day trip. Growing up in Buffalo, I was actually kind of bitter about that place, because it seemed to be both the center of the universe and somewhere just too far away. And Philly has been good to me (even if the Phillies are in the toilet, Missy.) But my brother Dean and his family just bought a new place in North Jersey that I wanted to visit, so when I found out some of our Boston contingent would be in the city for the tournament, I figured I would hop across the river and meet some of the people I've only known in e-mails, texts and blog posts.

I was worried I would feel out of place among them. For Rosie and Erin, this whole thing is brand new. Missy and Benjamin are also at a crossroads. I couldn't get a good read on Benny. It's all in the past for me, and you would think I would be sick of talking about it, and some days I am, but I live in such secrecy that I never shy away from a conversation with someone who's been there too.

I would like to report that Jordan/Missy/whomever she'd like to be exaggerated my flirtatiousness, but what can I say? There's an energy amongst people who are on their second or third body, and with all that testosterone flying around with no real outlet, people get caught up in the energy. Even Rosie, wallflower that she/he is, stole a glance at Missy's figure when he could.

A fellow Inn person, who would prefer to remain anonymous, manages a club in Midtown, so I brought the boys there, and the drinks flowed. I got each of them on the dancefloor - Erin was the most willing, Rosie the least, and made it clear that I didn't mean anything by it. Seriously. All I want is for these folks to find out who they really are, you know? I don't mean to impose my worldview on them, but I don't know where I would be today if I hadn't had people pushing my boundaries from the second I started my new life.

Besides, I already alluded to in my last post, there is a new guy in my life. I call him Cute Hipster Mike, and he is indeed a cute hipster. He's actually my first bearded guy. I mean, every guy is stubbly to some degree, but I've always expressed a preference for clean-shaven boys. I considered it this strange taboo of overt masculinity I simply wasn't ever ready to break. Is that weird? I like my guys thin, less than a head taller than me, and smooth. Hipster Mike is a burly lumberjack-looking fellow, and when I saw him at the wedding, something about him struck me. Like, I want that person to hold me. He reminds me of Chris Pratt. And I do like Chris Pratt.

He texted me a few days after the wedding, saying he hoped I didn't mind if we weren't just a "one off." I said no, I would be quite interested in continuing, and we made arrangements to have a coffee someplace nice the following weekend.

By now I'm very practiced at first dates. I'm very sweet, charming, outgoing, personable... accessible. I share almost anything about my life that the other person cares to know, except things I am unable to mention due to magic curse. It took us a bit to click, though. He asked me about music I liked, and we didn't have much common ground. I asked him about movies, and he said he was "starting to feel fatigued by cinema."  A bit pretentious and I could feel myself losing interest. Then we started to talk about work. He said he was bartending for a couple of years, and I was ready with my "Oh, it's okay if you haven't found your way yet" speech from numerous past boyfriends, when he continued:

"My real passion is for animals. I volunteer three times a week at a no-kill shelter, walking and feeding dogs and cats, helping them find homes. It's really rewarding. I'll probably do it for the rest of my life."

Couldn't you just melt?

I told him about Scruff, my family's old English Sheepdog who looked like he was on his last legs. His eyes got noticeably misty and he talked about his own childhood pets. Sensitive guy! Yes! From then on I could really feel the chemistry brewing.

He walked me home and complimented my "FORWARD" tattoo, saying that if there was a story behind it, he'd like to hear it. I sighed: "It couldn't be more cliche'd... I got it after a breakup, of sorts." I sighed a bit, thinking over the details of my life, "Some days it feels like I've just been living through one long break-up."

"Well, whoever he was, he's an idiot for letting you get away," he said.

"That's sweet to say, but it's a bit more complicated than that," I said. "And if he had his way, I'd still be with him."

There was a pause, and I made myself apologize for derailing such a nice date.

He attempted to joke his way out of it, saying "Hey, what's a first date without a little melodrama?"

"Uh huh, sure," I said. Then I took a deep breath and said, "Mike, I'm really liking you."

He fell quiet, like I'd just smacked him in the face.

"Tori," he said in a weirdly grace tone, "I think you're really great, but..." Oh, God, here it comes,  "...I'm not really looking for anything serious right now. But I was thinking we could be, like..." Don't say it... "Casual."

Damnit.

The word felt like poison in my ears. I felt tricked, honestly. He came across so well, so sweetly, and then this came out of nowhere. And it was such a cliche, too, but at least the other guys had the balls to say it before we ever met, when we were still in the online profile or texting phase, where I could pretend I was OK with it before agreeing to meet, or (more likely,) avoid them altogether. It wasn't fair.

I spent so much of my old life trying to get attention, and now that I had it, it wasn't the right kind. Cosmic joke.

I almost wanted to cry, just as in impulse, but I kept it together. Instead I just groaned and pulled away from him. I got my bearings, and I unloaded.

"What does that even mean? Can you explain that to me? I hear that from so many guys, as if I'm supposed to be okay with it, like I won't end up feeling used. Yes, I want something physical, but I want something emotional, too. I wanted to be romanced. Cared for. Like I'll just go along for the ride hoping you'll change your mind. Fuck, Mike. Someone's got to want the same thing as I do. And I won't settle for less. Not again. So if you don't see this going anywhere... if you want to just string someone along and have a little fling, find someone else. I'm sorry."

I regretted saying sorry as soon as it had left my lips. If I wasn't entitled to my opinions here and now, who was?

I was on the verge of a serious breakdown. He kept his distance. I wanted to storm off but I stayed put to hear his response. It was underwhelming, but promising.

"Can I think about it?"

"Whatever," I sighed. "We'll see."

The next day he texted me. He gave this spiel about how he just had his guard up, how he's been hurt before, yadda yadda. He isn't sure he's in "the right place." I let him go on for a while, then answered minimally a few hours later. "Uh huh. Ok."

A couple of days later he texts again. "Still thinking about what you said. I was being pretty unfair. Some of my female friends pointed out that's a dick move." Not technically an apology, or even admission of wrongdoing. My response: "Yeah, kind of was."

A week passes. I think about him a bit. What a shame, there seemed to be potential. Then I hear from him. Not booty call messages at 2 AM, but mid-afternoon: "So, I really liked talking to you. Would it be weird for me to at least text you sometimes?"

Guys can be so awkward when you've got them under your thumb. I was feeling forgiving - empowered, even - so I answered. "Give it a try and we'll see."

He starts telling me about his days on a regular basis, and I tell him about mine. His charm doesn't quite come across as well over text, but I'm sensing that spark again.

Those texts become more frequent. He makes tentative attempts to get me to come out and see him. I find myself more and more drawn back to him. But I still resist. I keep it light and friendly and as time goes by - days, weeks - I pepper my conversation with more flirtations and come-ons, to let him know what he's missing out on. But I do find myself looking forward to his responses.

"I'm out with some friends," he says on Friday night in August. "Come say hey?"

"I can do that from here ;) See? Hey."

But I do go, and we have a drink and I meet his friends, and they're all as goofy and pretentious as he is, if not moreso to make him seem down to Earth. (They all talk about how they've traveled Europe and Asia and all I've got is this story about a quaint little Inn I once visited in Maine.)

Eventually, we steal a moment together. "Listen," I admit. "I want a boyfriend. I want something solid. And I know you can't force it. I know that isn't instantaneous. But I want someone willing to give it a shot. Someone who won't run as soon as things get serious, who won't throw fits about how they aren't ready to commit. I can't waste my time, I owe that to myself."

He digested this. "You're right. I really think we'd be good together."

"Mike," I smiled at him and put my hands on his cheeks. "We are good together."

He smiled warmly at me. "Let's give it a shot."

We kissed, and I went home that night walking taller than I have in a long time. Sometimes I don't apply myself towards getting what I really want, and bend to the whims of others, and in the past I might have said "Causal, sure, if that's what's best." But today, I'm a new woman. I'm done floating, because this is my life and it isn't a game. I won't settle. I'm worth it. And I deserve someone who sees it.

We've been pretty happy so far...

Tori: Three to Tango

So, I started this affair with Chuck and Julia back in February. For a while things were great. I mean, if I ignored the nagging feeling in my gut that I was just a piece of meat, they were totally peachy keen.

There was the wild thrill of it all. I can't deny it. Getting caught up between two bodies, one male, one female, was in a way the perfect situation for me. I hadn't really felt much attraction to women since becoming Tori, but it wasn't as if I was turned off by them. I just stopped seeing them as potential romantic partners, because they stopped seeing me that way, and in time turned me attention to the men who were giving me attention. Which in the end, worked out, because I gained so many valuable female friendships... most of which have sadly fallen away as the girls have gotten on with their lives, moved away, or been tricked into going to the Inn in Sara's case. And I've been eyebrow-deep in work for so long that I couldn't really sustain the kind of romantic relationship (or friendship) I wanted.

So this was win-win. A way to get my (physical) needs served, expand my horizons even further, make up for lost time, and not worry about sustaining an emotional bond.

And I should point out that they were very good about the whole thing. Not just kind about opening their bed up to me, but about making me feel wanted, sexy, pleasured and pleasurable. It wasn't two women sharing one man, it was three people as a unit, together in a kind of physical poetry. Like wow.

It was everything at once: awkward and exciting, uncomfortable and welcoming, friendly and cold. Sexy and mechanical.

Meaningless sex isn't wrong, but after a few months of that, I started to feel like a ho. That's even a lie: I felt like a bit of a ho immediately, but I pushed that thought to the back. I had nothing to be ashamed of. I felt I had reasonable proof that I couldn't sustain a real relationship - my miserable online dating rounds and the frustrating months of on-again-off-again with Boy-X. There was nothing wrong with consenting adults seeking a bit of pleasure. But I felt weird for giving in to that impulse. Then I felt bad for feeling so weird about it, like I couldn't appreciate it or shed my hangups.

"There's gotta be someone out there for me..." I muttered into my pillow some nights, doubtful that what I was saying was true. I reassured myself: "I'm just killing time until I find him. it'll be so much easier when I do." The question was: when would that happen? The more I avoided it, the more I felt the pressure to get back out there and stop fooling around.

Sometimes I hang out with Julia, for drinks or coffees if Chuck's not around, usually at their place so she can watch the kid. I promised I wouldn't see him outside of the context of our agreement (or work) but I never made any such promise about her. At first I hardly felt like I could face her, given the somewhat schoolgirlish crush I held for her husband, but as time wore on I felt more and more close to her, as a person and a woman, not just a sometime-sexual partner.

I confided to her that it was starting to get to me, that I would have to see myself out at the end of the night, sometimes fighting back tears while they stayed in bed and cuddled.

"I don't want you to feel used," she said. "If you're not comfortable..."

"It's not that, I'm just... jealous I guess. I want what you guys have, but I can't ever seem to get it."

"I know it's not easy," she said sympathetically, "But my big sister used to tell me this when I was young and had dating problems: You only have to get it right once. And from where I am now, I see she was right."

That didn't comfort me much. "I feel like my life is too complicated for that opportunity to ever arise."

"Well, if you don't get out there, it won't," she said. "I mean, what we're doing is fun, I'd keep doing it as long as we're all happy, but if you're not, then I don't want you to feel like you don't have options. You owe it to yourself to find happiness."

I sighed, "It's hard for me. I have a pretty demanding job, a ton of baggage, and an inability to decide what I want."

"I disagree," she said.

"With what?"

"All of it," she said, "First, lots of people have jobs. You work around it, and you make time. If he can't take the fact that you're career oriented, he's not for you.

"Second, I think you do know what you want. You're just tempted to settle for less. Don't. Hold out, but don't close yourself off to new possibilities.

"Third, I seriously don't think you have any more baggage than anyone else out there. Don't let it weigh you down."

I wanted to refute that last point, but it would involve bringing up the whole "used to be a guy" thing (as well as the "manipulated by the Agency" thing) and how that affects my dating. It shouldn't: I'm a strong, competent woman with a lot going for me. The right guy would probably help me let go of that baggage once and for all.

"You're also really good looking, smart, fun to be around, and intensely sexual," she said admiringly, "That'll intimidate some guys, but it doesn't have to. Watch out for that, don't let them get away. Just believe in your own heart. Like I said: It only needs to work out once."

For now, I'm keeping up our arrangement, although I wonder if Chuck senses me just going through the motions sometimes, or if it makes a difference. I sat and thought about my next step, and how to go about breaking things off with them, should the occasion arrive.

Which brings me to the dreaded Wedding Season.

I've been invited to a few weddings this summer... sigh... and it's not like I can bring Chuck and Julia. I don't even really mind going stag (or, I guess it's doe? Stag-ette? Whatever, alone.) but you sort of need a buffer, a shield. Weddings are... tough, as a woman. People expect you to be marriage-minded/wedding-minded/baby-minded (ick, no.) If you're single, people expect you to be vulnerable and therefore approachable, and sometimes that attracts good attention, sometimes bad. They're fun, and a lot of pressure, and part of me does not want to deal with them. But I figure diving headlong into this wedding season is just the kick in the ass I need.

I have a wedding coming up for an old friend of Tori's. Someone I know, not necessarily as well as I eventually got to know Raine and Sara, but decently well. Raine, in fact, will be there.

And I thought, well, if he's interested... I should invite Cliff down.

It's potentially a very hairy situation. He hasn't seen anyone from Philly since he was Sara. Maybe meeting them like this is a bad idea, maybe it could be therapeutic, I don't know. At one point he was going to move out to California to be with some girl, but that ended up not working out and he wasn't seeing anyone, so I asked if it wouldn't be too hard to see the old gang, and he said yes.

"As... friends, right?"

"Of course :)" I replied. "You can be my wingman. I'll be your wing girl."

"I don't need a wing girl, haha" he said.

"Oh, cocky much? ;P"

"Recently, yes. But enough about what's between my legs..."

"Don't rub it in, when it was mine I couldn't drum up any interest!"

"I'll rub it any way I want... you gave it to me. Haha, oh God I can't believe you let me make jokes like that."

"I think it's important for people like us to be able to confide in each other. If that means you making gross references to your junk, well, I'll take it."

He told me thanks again, and has periodically messaged me over the weeks to tell me he's actually getting excited to see the old hometown.

This could be fun... or interesting, anyway.

Tori: No. Just no.

I'm really flattered you guys haven't forgotten about me. Every so often I read a comment asking about me and it makes me want to write a big post updating you on my life. But the sad truth is there was not a lot to update you on. Working, dating, living, being me... I felt for a while it was nice to step back and stop using this blog to explain to myself that it was okay to be okay with my life, that nothing about it was new anymore and it was good to get comfy and go along with the ride. I said it was the sad truth, but it's also the awesome truth. I've gotten to a place I've never felt in either of my lives.

Alex-- that is my boyfriend Alex, not Greg's current body -- is exactly what I've needed in my life. He's really stable. After a long settling-in period, we got really comfortable with each other, learned each other's needs and wants and now we're jsut so... I don't wanna say perfect, but like I said, stable. It's just so awesome to have someone to throw my arms around at night.

I realized over the Holidays that I love him. We were having dinner with my family, and I don't know, he was just kidding around with dad and I was just watching him, being so cute and I thought "I love this guy. This is real."

Then I got scared. I haven't said that to anyone in years, and it was not like this. I contemplated saying it to Buddy, but we were way off base on that. There were risks here, too, though. It was laying my feelings bare to a man who means the world to me, and it was admitting to myself how badly I needed him in my life. How much of a woman I wanted to be for him. Before I could say it, I tried to forget I ever wasn't Tori. I thought that would make it easier, but it was impossible. There's still baggage there. There's still this feeling that I'm lying to him just a little bit, even as every day passes and makes me more Tori and more his.

So I dove in and told him. Christmas eve. It was a beautiful night and we were out for a drive and we stopped at a gas station. He got out to fill the tank and I was sitting in there waiting for him, when something just grabbed me and made me leave the car and walk over to him. The look on his face before I said it, so clueless. I just took a breath, watched the steam come out of my mouth and said it. "Hey. I love you."

It was a really gutsy move, since if he didn't feel the same way, it would have wrecked the ride home, maybe even Christmas.

He just smiled and said "I knew that. I love you too."

I felt my legs turn to rubber. I nearly fell on him. Even remembering that moment now takes my breath away. I threw myself into his arms and we kissed. He pulled the pump from the tank and we hurried home.

And for a while it was bliss. Waking up in the morning thinking about how in love I am will do that.

Then in January I got this e-mail.

It was a long e-mail. It was apologetic. It had a lot of details about the last few years and why certain things happened the way they did. It was from Willy Taylor, and the gist of it was "I'm going back to Maine this Summer, and if you'd like, you can have your real body back."

Uh.

My "real" body?

I was gobsmacked. My life is so full of hanging threads, I thought this would never come up again. I just assumed Willy had gone off with my old body and was happy with it. But somehow, now, he's decided he's ready to "give it back?" Like I should be grateful for the chance to be that person again? Like being Cliff would be better just because he as a penis?

I didn't even think of it. I didn't even reply! Every time I tried I just got so outraged my fingers couldn't stop shaking. I don't want to go back, but that doesn't mean the hurt has gone away. That feeling of utterly sinking away from myself after he first told me he wanted another year with my body (which turned into TWO by the way) will always be with me. And even though it allowed me to become the person I am now, it still hurt like hell and he can't make that better. It wasn't even malice. It was just insensitive. I don't know what I'd even say, other than "No thanks."

How dare he re-open that wound? After that e-mail I went back to where I was a year earlier, second-guessing everything, falling out of "character" with this cloud of "Cliff-ness" hanging over over me. Every time I seemed upset about something since then, Alex could sense I needed to be comforted, but he never pushed too hard for information. He's there for me. He's so good for putting up with my nonsense. And so trusting not to ask questions I don't wanna answer.

I don't know what the future holds, but my present is well in hand.

Tori: Houston and Philadelphia

Houston

I wake up at 2 AM. I can feel him breathing on the back of my neck. I remember when we fell asleep, his arm was draped over me but now it's pressed between us. It's hot in our room under the covers. Sweat clings to my body, my chest and between my legs.

Slowly shifting my body weight, I sit up and plant my feet on the floor. Right where they land, my toes catch, tossed carelessly at the bedside, the panties I'd had on earlier. I slip them over my legs and feel the elastic over my hips. Aside from that, I'm naked, folding my arms across my breasts to keep them steady as I stand and step softly across the room, sneaking out the door.

In the main sitting area there's a seat by the window. I open it a crack and stare out at the lights of the Houston cityscape. I pretend it's not too dark and I'm not too high up for someone to look in and see me sitting, curled up, half-naked. The scenery is beautiful. I can't sleep.

I made such a mess of my interview, I don't even want to relive it by explaining how. I came off as cocky, but when asked for more detailed solutions to example situations, I stammered and second-guessed myself. I kept my composure, but when I walked out of the office feeling like breaking down and crying. I felt like a lie for the first time in years, dressed like a smart, confident woman when inside I'm still just a kid.

I comforted myself with Buddy. I dressed in the shortest skirt I have and the lowest-cut top, and made a lasagna for him when he came home. I tried to imagine myself playing house for a while, staying with him in Houston and finding something else to do with my life. I tried to imagine being that in love with someone. Make that sacrifice. I was going to tell him over dinner that I didn't think I'd be getting the job, but instead I said the interview went fine and we'd see.

I took him to the bedroom. I didn't want to talk. I didn't want to sit quietly in front of the TV. I wanted to fuck. If I've got nothing in this life, no career opportunity, nobody I feel I can be honest with, I've at least got a body and I know he likes that. I know he likes me for a lot more than that, but I wasn't interested in talking about seeing the Thor movie.

It was wild, and physical, but brief and ultimately disappointing. After he came, I let him drift off to sleep and quietly began to pleasure myself under the covers. I'm sure in his sleep he heard me moan, but he didn't wake. I've been doing this long enough I know how to make myself come, and I wish he'd learn. He's done it before but it was more like a coincidence, and with a lot of prep time behind it. For a brief instant, as I shudder with orgasm, struggling to keep my legs from shaking and kicking him, I think I should bring him to Maine and let him be a girl for a while. It might be good for him. Fortunately, I know these are just the thoughts of a frustrated, sleepy mind, and I don't think anything of it. I finally fall asleep around 11. Oftentimes at this hour back in Philly, Raine and I are just deciding what to do.

At 2, though, I'm sitting at the window, which is opened a crack, feeling a cool breeze between my breasts. I know, in reality, the answer isn't in Maine. And I don't think it's in Houston anymore either.

By the time I left, all the doubts in my mind had solidified into certainties. Certainty that I didn't belong in Houston, that I didn't belong with Buddy. That whatever I was capable of, I deserved more than a guy who is constantly trying to push me just to go along with him, clinging to me because he doesn't think he can get any better. He deserves someone who wants him a lot more than I do, now.

For the rest of the stay, I was quiet and distant. I couldn't bring myself to pull the trigger, though, to tell him it was over. I don't know how. I was hoping he'd notice, but he'd just keep asking what's wrong and I'd keep telling him "nothing." I feel like I need to prepare, like I need there to be a reason other than "we've grown apart." But whatever happens, it's not going to be fair for him and I know deep down I can't avoid hurting him.

When we said goodbye, I still hadn't heard back from the job. I needed to go back to Philly and go back to my real job, helping businesswomen pick suits that make them look confident and feminine.

Philadelphia

When I landed in Philadelphia, there was a message on my phone saying if I wanted it, the job was mine.

I was so close to accepting. A job is a job and it shouldn't have anything to do with my relationship. My mind kept pushing me back to Houston, saying I could either try to make it work with Buddy, or I could take the job and just end the relationship when it got unbearable.

"Before you say yes, there's something you should know," Alex told me when I met him for lunch the next day. My heart jumped. Maybe I've become such a girl that I expected him to make a big speech saying he was in love with me, despite his complicated past, and knew he was the right one for me and I shouldn't move to Houston for Buddy, I should stay in Philly for him. That he needed me and that he could make me happier.

But that's not what he said. What he said was almost as good. "There's an opening at my company -- the people who paid me to take the course, they need more people. I could recommend you. You'd be a shoe in. It wouldn't be IT, but it would be a real job. You wouldn't have to move or anything."

He knows I have my doubts about Buddy. He supported me in the past but now he's trying to get me to stay. I squirmed in my seat and turned it over in my mind. The choices were clear-cut: Buddy and Houston, or Alex and Philly?

I held the phone in my hand for twenty minutes that night, just trying to dial Buddy's number. Trying to psych myself into it. I could barely breathe as I put the phone to my ear and heard it ringing.

It was voicemail.

With my voice trembling, I told him to call me back, I had to talk to him. It didn't seem right that it would end this way, but it was the only way now.

I had fallen into a nap on my bed when the phone began to vibrate. I saw it was him and answered. "Hey Buddy." Lately I've been calling him that instead of baby or honey or anything.

"Vic, what's up, babe?"

Quietly and without much hesitation, I told him, "I'm not getting the job."

"It's okay, it's okay," he went into his prepared remarks, "We'll find something. You're still coming here, right?"

I took my time answering. "No."

"No? but what about... what will you..."

"Alex told me he could get me a job. I want to stay here, Buddy."

"Alex? Goddamnit, Tori." When I first met Alex I made the mistake of gushing about him to Buddy, and he became (rightly) paranoid. I think this may have been why he kept trying to pull me in to Houston.

At this point, I guess, Buddy realized he was losing it and just let off. He accused me of being a cheater, an unstable, immature, indecisive, man-hungry bitch, and a liar. I just sat there and listened to all these epithets and rants and realized what kind of a person I had been dealing with.

"We're done, Buddy."

"Yeah," he said bitterly. "I guess we are."

Click.

And that was it. I spent the rest of May trying to decide if I was upset about this, or if I was happy it was over, or if I felt anything anymore. I met Alex's boss and got a job basically being the "Tech bitch" at the shipping company where he works.

So that's where I'm at now. Sorry I took so long to tell you, but I went from being too depressed to post to too busy.

I'll tell you more of what's happened as soon as I can. Thanks to Alia and Todd, my "writing coaches" for helping me organize all these thoughts. You're the best.

Love, Victoria Pearce.

Tori: Love sucks

I'm sorry, but it does, at least for me. I mean, I guess I officially qualify. Whenever I'm with Buddy, I get nervous but in a good way, I get excited when I know I'm going to hang out with him, we get so comfortable together... it's a whole butterflies thing. Sheesh, a while back I didn't think anyone could make me feel this way, let alone a guy.

But it sucks. It sucks, it sucks, it sucks so much because even though I'm pretty sure I'm in love with him, I know we have problems and part of me is really scared it's not going to work out. But I guess that's part of being in a real relationship, is that if you care for somebody, you make it work.

A while ago, I made the mistake of telling him about Leo, the guy I was, um, screwing up until I started seeing him. I maybe didn't "break it off" immediately after Buddy and I started dating, but to me, the whole fling was over as soon as Buddy and I became an item.

It started because we were talking about personal issues, and how he wondered why I seemed to be in such a bad mood on New Year's. I decided it wouldn't hurt to tell him I'd been in a fistfight with Cyndi the night before, and eventually wound up spilling my guts that Leo was at the heart of it. The truth is, Leo and Cyndi had gotten back together so close to me and Leo ending it, I'm still not sure they didn't resume dating while Leo and I were going on. And here I was, thinking telling Buddy this made me look like the good guy.

Well, as he tends to do, he made it about himself. The entire time he'd known me I'd been sheepish about the sex thing, which is why we didn't end up dating right away. So I pushed him away (well, also because I thought I might be getting my male body back, but... yeah.) But, in Buddy's eyes, the second he left town I was all over Leo in this "purely physical" thing that I had passed him over on.

I called BS on that, because it was mainly a timing thing: he left town, I was feeling shitty, never sure if I'd see him again, and Leo was in the right place at the right time. He called BS on "timing" because it was apparently all up to me whether or not we could have dated, all summer. I told him I wasn't ready, he asked what changed, and I said I didn't know, but it was all in the past.

He spent that night at his sister's. I spent it crying on the couch eating comfort food with Raine.

But I guess the reason why the two of us work is that we're capable of putting this sort of thing behind us and getting back to our normal routine. He apologized, I apologized, we both apologized for apologizing so much and for a few weeks things went back to normal.

And God, what a great two weeks that was. I don't work a ton and he's not going to Texas yet, so we spend a lot of our time fooling around in bed, or trying to cook for each other, or going out for walks in the snow... I mean, this is great, this is the kind of relationship I always wanted (albeit I didn't always want to be the one with the... uh, yeah.)

It's just sucky that it has to be complicated. You can love someone, obviously, but that's not automatically going to make them into who you want them to be. You'll both still have difficulties and insecurities to overcome and it isn't as easy as you want it... but if you can't stand the thought of being without that person, well, yeah, I think that's love.

One last thing that sucks: he's going away soon. As in... before Valentines Day. And damnit, I wanted my first Valentine in a real relationship in years (and first as a girl, natch) to be worth writing about.

Oh well... guess we'll have to do something super-sexy on the 11th...

Tori C: A rough night for Victoria and her Buddy

When I got to New York, I was definitely expecting Buddy to be surprised at my new hairstyle, but I didn't expect him to flip out about it. I mean, it seems so innocent. It's just hair, it's not what defines me, it's not who I am. In fact, having short hair might make me more myself.

But when I took off my hat (a silly wool cap with ear flaps) and he saw what had happened, he just stared a while. "Well, that's... wow."

"Cute, right?"

He winced. "Uh, maybe? I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know? Everyone else has said it's nice."

"Well everyone else isn't dating you. I kinda would've liked a head's up at least."

"What's the big deal? It's just hair!"

Then he goes off on this whole thing about communication and trust and whatever, and how we're long distance so we should be paying special attention to that kind of thing because he can't be near me all the time -- and when I ask him just what is that supposed to mean, he says to drop it, it was a poor choice of words. I don't push the issue, but it still sticks with me.

I told him I didn't tell him because it was spur of the moment, and if I'd spent time talking to anyone about it, I probably wouldn't have done it, even though I'm happy with it. He insists I should have, and accuses me of making "a lot" of spur-of-the-moment decisions lately. Leaving my job, moving in with Raine. I guess he feels like we're on shaky ground. It seemed like neither of us could say the right thing, because I told him not to be insecure, and that sent him off into the snow for a few hours.

I had already called Ken to see if I could crash on their couch, if this fight was going to last all night, but I wanted him to come back first. I ordered up some food to tide me over since the two of us were clearly not eating together. He came back around 7, drunk, but I guess he hadn't eaten since he was mad I hadn't ordered anything for him.

I tried to apologize, but things just got worse until I finally just had to leave. I was in tears again, worrying about fucking up my first serious relationship as a girl right when it was starting to get good.

Ken and Jana were just about ready to get to bed by the time I arrived. And so was I, so I laid out on the couch with a comforter and tried to get some rest. Before I fell asleep, I heard a buzz in my purse. A text message from Buddy.

"I'm so sorry. I love you so much."

That hit like a fist in the face, and I spent so much time staring at it, trying to figure out what I wanted to say in response that I fell asleep without answering.

It didn't come up again the next day when we met up for breakfast, at this little corner cafe we like. Mostly we just talked about the future. In February, I'm starting night courses in computer repair -- it isn't anything I need to re-learn, but nobody knows that. Mainly I just want to brush up and get certified. It's a 6-week course and then I'll probably be able to get a job and just go on living my life.

That's when he told me he was moving around again. He's got a new gig in Houston, and if he's lucky it might become permanent. I went stone cold at this. If we were having this much trouble with him just a state over, how were we going to do with half a country between us?

Then he told me he was thinking, if it turns permanent, and we're in a good place, how would I feel about moving to Houston with him?

And I just didn't know what to think about it. Uproot myself again, leave this city, leave the family, commit, and basically give up the option to become Cliff again? I mean, I am basically done with that life, but I guess I just thought it would make an effective back-up plan if I ever needed it. I haven't even heard from Willie in months. Last I heard he was in England still.

I told him we'd see what happened. It's a possibility. But deep down it really feels like just too much to handle. To completely base my lie around this relationship? That would be different.

We went to the bus depot, and he told me to think about it and I said I would. I gave him a big hug and a kiss -- his lips were ice cold but his breath was so warm. We just stood there a while in our winter coats, holding each other, and he said to me, "Have a nice trip, Vic."

I looked up at him. He's never called me Vic before. I asked him where that came from and he said, "Your family all calls you Vic. I thought maybe I could call you that, too. Maybe since you're changing your life, you might like a new name. New haircut, new identity."

I smiled. It was a little bit of a dig, but kinda sweet also? Like, mean but also being cute, after all, it's a guy's name, and he makes it a point to remind me any time I do or say anything guyish, including my short hair. I told him it was all right if he wanted to keep calling me that. I've learned not to get too attached to names. You never know when you might wake up with a new one.

I kissed him on the cheek and told him goodbye. I spent the whole ride home wondering what Vic was gonna do next.

Tori C: Impulsive behavior

I've been an emotional mess lately. Things aren't even that bad, but I've felt so stressed out by life now that I'm trying to make things happen with it, it makes me just want to hide in my room curled up in a little ball.

I've been packing up my stuff for when I move in with Raine on February 1, into Sara's old room. It's a bit far in advance, but it's important for me to go through all this junk, both inherited from Tori and accumulated by me -- and decide what I want to bring along because I won't have a ton of room to myself. Compared to the last time I had a major life-altering move, I think it's reasonable to want some control.

Sara and Thom will be getting a one-room apartment elsewhere. It's weird how couplehood has pushed them to the edge of our friendship circle. Danny and I hang out way more than I do with Sara, and Raine has her way of keeping guys at arm's length. And me, my boyfriend is over in the next state, for now at least, and the situation's not looking any better.

I'm not especially looking forward to leaving the family behind. I mean, I'll still come over all the time, but I know it's going to change. It's like going off to college all over again, except this time the family has been demonstrably more interested in keeping me around. With all due respect to my "real" family, the Cliffords, they were never as good to me as the Pearces have been. And that's really sad to me. How much I love these people.

Speaking of love... here's the real core of my stress. Last weekend, I was lying in bed with Buddy. I had my lips around his dick -- I'm trying to decide whether I like doing that or if I'm just giving him what I think he wants. And he's running his fingers through my hair and moaning with pleasure, and he says, "Mmm, yeah... I love that."

It made me pause. I guess on its own, it's a meaningless statement, but that word has been working its way out of his lips more and more often. I make a joke about Ewoks, and he says, "I love that you say stuff like that." He sees me in a low-cut black dress and says, "I love you in that." I get out of the shower and he says, "I love your hair when it's wet." It's starting to really get to me, like he's working he way up to saying the three little words. Every time it comes up, he seems to get closer. Later that night, he had his arms around me and we were falling asleep, and he whispers, "I love spending time with you."

I mean, I guess I shouldn't be surprised. We've been together a while now. We have a lot of fun together, he seems to get me. I just never considered the possibility that it was really love and not just... dating. Screwing around. God help me when he actually says it. I don't know how I feel. I never honestly expect to get that close to a human being, not like this.

So I was thinking about all this and stressing out and taking inventory of my stuff when I made a decision, a harmless little decision to cut my hair. Like, all of it. I mean, I didn't shave my head, but I'm definitely rocking the pixie look now.

I had only been to a hair salon a few times since being Tori. My hair has definitely suffered neglect. I just get really uncomfortable with all the ritual of the salon scene, versus the male ability to get in a chair and get out with shorter hair. What's more, even though the long hair has always been a hassle to me, I was so dead-set against altering anything I'd gotten along with being Tori that it had to stay even after I learned I'd be her for a good long while.

So I finally womanned-up and set foot in the salon with a photo of Audrey Hepburn -- as cliche as it is -- and the hairdresser just smiled and said "I'll take care of you, hun."

Like an hour later, my hair was nice and short. No more ponytails or blowing in the breeze, no more waiting hours for it to dry, no more long hairs down the drain or waking up with it all over my face.

The family was taken by surprise, it wasn't like "me," since "I'd" always held my hair with such importance. "It's just something new," I said. Mom thought it looked nice. Dad rolled his eyes. Mae said she was jealous, and boys were going to think I was smart now. Thanks, Mae.

Then I decided to brave snowpocalypse again to go to New York. As nervous as I was about Buddy being in love with me, I was especially interested in his reaction.

It was... not great. Really surprising, actually.

I'd give you the details, but the fight is technically still happening. He went out for a walk in the snow just to cool down. Considering the temperature, it ought to work. I'm thinking about staying with Ken and Jana tonight. Sigh.

I'll get back to you.