Cal/Angie: Sex ruins everything

We're getting very close to the end of the line here. Our return trip to the Inn is the weekend of June 14. So just over a month before I get to be me again. You'd think I'd be excited. I'm terrified.

I don't really know what I'm going back to. The new me assured me things are a-okay, that he deferred my enrollment until fall 2014, worked, built up a lot of funds, some credit... kept things "under control." Somehow this is scary to me. I don't know the details. If there was some disaster to report, I could feel safe knowing that my panic was justified. It can't be that easy.

By comparison... I look at what I'm leaving. A good body, a good life... one that I've almost made too good. I am just getting good at Angie's job at the holistic store. I am very friendly with my roommates - we eat dinner together almost every night. I've gotten a sneak-peek at life after school, and it's fun. Not very successful, but fun and free.

Then there's David. I can't even think about it without getting a stress headache. What have I done. That was my biggest fuck-up of being Angie, hooking up with David. For so many reasons.

I feel like it's inevitable that I'm going to leave a mess for Angie to clean up when she gets back. David was a friend of hers, and I used him for my own... pleasure? Curiosity? I'm not sure it makes a difference to him. The problem is, I took their relationship to this level, and I don't think you can just go back.

I feel grossed out by myself whenever we do it, not because I like it (I'm over that, mostly,) but because I'm not asking for more from him. Quality time. Dates. Companionship. I've realized that he's not someone that I would date, even among all men, if I'm into that (more on this later) that while he's an okay (at best) sex partner, outside the bedroom, he's just too much of a stoner hippie to be compatible with me. He always seems to be in a bit of a druggy haze.

Not that I'm miss goody two shoes myself. I smoke now, weed at least. I like it. It makes me feel so at peace, which believe me, I need for this situation. We share a joint before screwing, and it helps his, erm... staying power. And it makes me all tingly and relaxed.

But there's a difference between smoking at the end of a day, and smoking as soon as you get out of bed. It makes him really dull company. You could even say that I smoke partly because I need to get down to his level before I can let him do anything, but the truth is I could never get to his level.

Ugh, complain, complain, complain... I feel like such an asshole. This situation is really my making. If I never let him touch me in the first place, I wouldn't be having this conversation. But what was I supposed to do? After a certain point, sex became all I could think about. I lie awake in bed at night fondling my tits and wishing someone, anyone else, were there, male or female. I didn't know girls could get like that, but then again, I guess I'm only partly a girl.

Well, the part that counts.

I have to end it. I have to, because it's not fair if I leave it for Angie to resolve. But with the routine I've gotten into, I feel like I'm going to leave it for the last possible moment.

Life was easier when I wasn't getting laid, didn't want to get laid, couldn't get laid. Sex has ruined me. If I stayed female more than another month I worry what I'd end up turning into.

Roy/Christine: Making Nice

After taking a long while to cool off, I ended up going back to Terry. Part of it was the uncomfortable motel bed I was sleeping on, starting to take its toll on my already permanently-sore back (lugging breasts and all this extra weight around is no fun.) Mostly, or so I tell myself, it's the greater good. In the end, my squabbles with this man are my own, and my actions have an effect on the person who is supposed to be in this body. As loathe as I am to share a bed with him, I force myself to put on the "good wife" facade.

I'll admit it has its benefits. Routine is nice. Company is good. I'd be lying if I said I didn't get any pleasure (albeit a kind of perverse kind) out of fulfilling Christine's "wifely" duties. But it's a bit like the last semester before graduation. I'm squirming in my seat at all times, ready to break free for the summer and take back control of my life.

And while I console myself by telling myself it was the right thing to do, I still feel like I've betrayed myself in letting Christine go back to him. He's an asshole, a difficult partner best and a bigot at worst. I'd be lying if I said it was the first time I found myself paradoxically attracted to a man like that, but I hope it's the last.

I hate feeling small, while also being too big. Christine left me a body that was very out of shape compared to what I'm used to, and while I made some progress helping that, there is only so much that can be done. As determined as I am, there just weren't enough hours in the day to make a huge difference. Eating right helps, staying active helps... but I've always said you've got to be about it, and even with my discipline, there was only so much effort I could put in while doing a full-time job and carrying on the marriage. This is, I guess, why people "let themselves go." I've never had that luxury because I never settled down, and I never wanted to.

So I'm left with this: another month or so of carting these hips and thighs and not to mention bosoms around with me, clenching my teeth when the man who shares my bed speaks, getting looks from strangers that I read as judgmental of my weight or lack of cosmetics... and sometimes clearly the mark of some kind of fat fetishist.

I'll admit to a certain level of judgmentalism in myself, both towards myself, and towards others before I got here. I always thought if it worked for me it should work for everyone... and maybe to a degree there's some logic to that, but I'm less hardline now than I was a year ago. I have a better understanding of women's body acceptance movements. I used to think it was just for quitters, but now I see it as a strength. To love yourself hard, but satisfying.

Tori: I'm The (Wo)man

I know I go a long time without posting here, and I hope you can understand the reasons. One, in comparison to those who are posting, my life is incredibly dull. Two, I decided a while back that I didn't want to dwell on body-swapping drama. I check in now and again but I go weeks without reading what these good people have to say about themselves. I felt like I needed to step away from this blog to complete my transformation, from Cliff, to Tori the past victim of the inn, and now to Tori: kick-ass bosslady.

Even in my old body, I didn't have much ambition. I wanted to do something I was good at, fixing other peoples' technical problems, be paid a respectable wage while doing it, and hopefully just subsist. And that was pretty much the plan as Tori, too. After 2013 was spent hopping from one dating disaster to the next (and the ones that weren't were just duds) and pining for a guy I couldn't have, I buckled down and started to develop myself as a person.

In my last post, months ago, I mentioned a friend I had in another department, Chuck. He's my best friend at work, a handsome go-getter with a beautiful wife and infant son. Sometimes it's a little painful to think about, with him being unavailable and all (what's that cliche... all the good ones are married or secretly using you to further their conspiracy?) but if anything having a friend like that has been really healthy for me. Seeing his success kind of made me want to do more for myself.

In March, he found out he was being promoted out of his department. There wasn't really anyone ready to take his place, so he told me that if I took some business courses to improve my resume, my knowledge of the company would make me a shoe-in. This from IT, usually a pretty dead-end department.

I guess I should call him my friend with benefits. Improved health benefits, you pervs.

It was too good of an opportunity to pass up. IT is what I've done for nearly a decade now, it was my identity as Cliff and as Tori, it was... a leftover, I guess. I enjoyed it, I was good at it, but getting out now looked really attractive when the opportunity came up. Who I am, as Tori, is not somebody who stays in one place forever. And definitely not because that's what Cliff did. I know that now.

It required three weeks of night school: not easy, but no big deal when you think of some of the other things I've had to learn over the years. It was nice to learn something really new at this age. I may not be a corporate shark, but I feel like I could take control of a situation now.

I start tomorrow. With a huge pay increase and a position of some actual authority.

I'm almost tempted to second-guess it. Knowing that the Agency, those weirdos who rig the Inn for fun and profit, have messed with my life (and the lives of people I care about) I have to look at stuff like this with some suspicion. But if I can't appreciate opportunities when they come around, well... how am I ever going to do anything with my life? It's been a while now, and I think they - whoever they are - are basically over me. I sat down and thought hard about it and decided it seemed very unlikely - not impossible but not likely - that this fairly benign promotion was a point in some conspiracy to get me (or other people) back to the Inn.

(Knock on wood...)

The whole thing has me excited and scared. Wish me luck.

PS. More things to talk about, but they don't necessarily belong in this post. Mwah.

Cal/Angie: Could be better, could be worse

This is probably not going to shock anyone, but I think I like sex.

Obviously, as a man I liked it. I always wanted to have more for it. I was desperate, in fact. I jacked off probably more than I should. And when I finally started to let myself open up to that side of my lie as Angie, I wasn't THAT surprised that it was fun. By myself, anyway. That way, I was in control. I could go on for hours and hours, uninterrupted, if I planned my day out correctly. It would start at work, just lightly teasing myself when nobody was around. By the time I was on the bus home, I was squirming in my seat. Disgusting, I know... looking around at all the strangers made me feel good, like I had a little secret. Well, I've got lots of secrets, obviously.

Then I'd get home and the fun would begin. It got to the point where I didn't even care if the roommates were around. I would bolt straight to my room and get straight to business, having had up to three hours (!!!) of foreplay with myself. It was like a damn oil slick down there sometimes.

I experimented. How to touch, where, what, if anything, to put in... and when. I started to get to know this body really, really well. Except I didn't know it. I was just playing around.

Then I started having sex with David, and I was sorry to say it wasn't as glorious as I hoped. He always leaves me wanting more, and I didn't have any way to tell him what exactly I wanted, because, well, I feel almost ashamed to speak for myself. Some of it's not in his control, like, I know a guy can't hold back his come any more than you can hold back a sneeze, I just wish we held off on that portion of the night longer. I should really just man up and tell him to go down on me until I tell him to stop, not until he feels like he's done. Well, I also wish the intercourse itself lasted longer. One time, we did it, and it was over in a few minutes, and we lay there for a while until he was ready to go, and the second time lasted a lot longer, but his heart didn't seem to be in it. It was pretty gentle.

That's the other weird thing. I think I'm starting to feel like I prefer the hard stuff? He's a man, I want him to use all his muscles and size, and leverage and just... fuck me, you know? Hard, and slow, and... oh God, is it getting how in here.

Sorry. I didn't expect to think about sex this much as a woman. I went from barely thinking about it at all to having this, like, awakening at the end of the "year" I've spent here. It makes me sad that I waited so long, but at the same time I know I wasn't ready. I still don't know if I was.

Mixed feelings, I'm saying. Positive ones are in there with the negative ones. We've got a date tomorrow night. Hopefully I'll be able to lay it out for him in a way that doesn't hurt his feelings.

James/Keisha: Itching to leave

As much as I'm happy for Cal, scratching that itch, I am just about ready to get back to normal.

I was talking about it over coffee with Trish/Robbie. We've gotten into the habit of having these brother/sister chats. I'm kind of the centerpiece of the group, since I live with and am best friends with Derek, work with Roy, and am technically siblings with Trish. I don't talk to Cal much anymore, but Trish does, so I hear about him that way. I mean her. Shit, funny after all these months I still do that. Ah well I'll leave it there.

So yeah, Trish had some thoughts about Cal dating that guy, and he was just going on and on (oh I did it right that time!) about how rude it was to make that kind of move in someone else's body, especially so close to the end, and yadda yadda... and so finally I just said "You're just mad because you regret shooting her down."

He denies it, but I think there's something to it. I think he feels guilty seeing as how Cal is such a nice chick - and let's face it, a cutie - and Trish, usually pretty accustomed to getting attention, is sitting around deliberately cockblocking himself.

"You could've just done it, just to do it, and now you lost your opportunity. You're officially a dude."

"That's so simplistic," he snapped back, "If it was gonna be anyone... I mean, it's just not safe to date anyone out side the group."

"You said it wasn't a good idea to date anyone inside the group, either."

"It's not, but it's better. If I'd known... she was just gonna go ahead and do it anyway..."

"Wow, you're a hypocrite," I laughed.

"I totally stand by my decision," Trish said, "It's just that that led to Cal making a worse one. He's a sweet guy, girl, whatever... he isn't going to be able to handle this."

"And you, what, would have let him down easy when you got back to your regular body?"

"At least with me everyone involved would know the score."

"Hey," I said, "If you just wanna get laid, Derek told me he'd give you a try."

"Ew," he said, "Derek said that about me?"

"Like you haven't thought it? Look at those tits. Girl's a goddess. A screamer, too. A real moaner."

Trish looked embarrassed, "You can hear her through the walls?"

"I don't have to, I'm usually in there with her."

He nearly spat his coffee out, "Don't look so embarrassed, we're two dudes trapped in the body of hot chicks with nothing else to do. Didn't think we'd get around to it out sooner or later?"

"I thought you said you liked guys in Keisha's body," he said.

"You're such a loser sometimes," I laughed, "You never heard of experimenting?"

"Well now I really don't want to go out with Derek. OR do anything else. Or even look at her."

"Hey, I offered," I said. "Not my fault you missed out on Cal."

"I didn't miss out on anything," Trish said, "She said she doesn't even like it that much."

"With David," I said, "But I bet you have some info he doesn't."

"Oh, I could rock Cal's world. Or Derek's. Or anybody's."

"How about mine?"

"James!" he said in shock, "You're my sister, remember?"

"Oh, yeah, I forgot," I said, laughing, "Oh my God, could you imagine? That shit would be hilarious. Like some Game of Thrones shit, right? Fuckin' right."

Cal/Angie: Making it happen

I've gotten really used to the feeling of playing with myself and more and more the idea of taking on a... playmate... became a huge part of my fantasies. Why not, right? He likes me, I kinda like him. It's... just sex, right? I started hinting to David that I was maybe willing to do more with him and things between us changed. He started making a lot more comments about my looks, saying he was thinking about me... I couldn't tell if he was just trying to flatter me to seal the deal or if he was excited at the idea of seeing me naked or what. Just, the flirting got to a new level and I didn't know what to make of it.I tried to play along but having someone just falling head over heels for me was really... off-putting.

So we got to the big night, this past Saturday. Not that we planned it out, but I knew that unless something really horrible happened that night was the night. And sure enough it went like a lot of our dates went... started with some drinks and Netflix, then rapidly became making out. I started getting really hot... his hand on my leg was a welcome feeling. I rubbed my hands up and down his back (not a ton of options, really) and followed my body's instincts to thrust my pelvis against his, just kind of grinding. I could feel his hardness under his pants.

I decided the smartest, most direct way to signify him that I was ready to take it up a notch would be to grab it. Now, I've never grabbed somebody else's, so I just kind of cupped the outside and lightly ran my hand up his zipper. The outcome was the desired one.

Before I knew it, my pants were around my ankles, and he lowered his head into my crotch. I didn't expect this... I heard fro ma lot of people that guys like to skip this but I was glad he didn't. His lips and tongue danced around the right areas. I felt my face getting flushed, my legs trembling in the air. I couldn't help letting out a pleasure moan that sounded like "Eyyyooohhhh-eeeeeeiiiiiiiaaaaaaaahhhhhooooooohhhhhh! Hehhhnnnn hiiiiiinnnnhhhhh!" I could feel myself getting really warmed up.

Then all of a sudden he decided he was done, and it was my turn to try him. Um okay, I guess it would have been rude at this point to say "no thanks" but I wasn't quite ready to get off the ride. Still, I figured we could come back to me in a few minutes. This is what I signed on for, basically.

So before I knew it, there's this, well, considerably sized erect penis staring me in the face.

And before I could say to him "Um, I've never done this before," I closed my eyes, opened my mouth and faced the music. I was too far in to turn back.

Slowly I got used to the idea that there was a part of another human being in my mouth... trying hard not to think about the things that part does. It was stiff, which means he likes me. Well, he can't exactly control it, but I still took it as a compliment.

And then he started saying stuff. Like "Uh, yeah, you like that, don't you? Yeah. Take it. You love it. You love the taste."

And I really, truly didn't, and I didn't care for him saying stuff like that. It really took me out of the moment.

Then he ended up coming in my mouth without warning me. All of a sudden I felt it go off in my mouth and I nearly choked. And he fucking laughed it off and told me to lie next to him until he was ready to go again... and I was just thinking how I wasn't done going the first time.

When we finally got back to it a half hour later, he put it in pretty quickly and started pumping it... and there were pleasurable parts of it, but really by then I was just waiting for it all to be done with because it was clear he had no idea what he was doing. Like he knew something... it was clear he had a routine, but as far as actually taking care of my needs, he fell pretty flat. Parts of it felt good, for a moment or tow, but mostly it was just a hard, bumpy ride that actually kind of hurt at times as he pushed as far into me as he could go then jerked out suddenly.

I was kind of cold about it afterwards, just waiting for it to be done because it was clear I wasn't going to finish. After he finally finished and pulled out I wondered what the hell just happened to me. I felt used, like a prop to satisfy him, without any real feeling or meaning. I felt sick with myself, disappointed in a guy that I liked, and ashamed that I let that happen to Angie's body.

I waited a length of time - how long I don't know, maybe five minutes, maybe twenty but it felt long - before finally sitting up and pulling my panties on.

As I headed for the door, he barely acknowledged me, except to mumble, "I'll text."

Yeah... we'll see if I answer.

When I got home, I just laid down in my own bed and laughed myself to sleep. "Ugh... men."

And sure enough, when he texted me, five minutes ago while I was writing this all up, to ask "Hey what's up?" I texted back "Nothing, you?"

Guess I feel like I need to give him a second chance. Ugh... me.

Grant/Sophie: Never look back

Hey guys. I haven't posted on here for myself here, but I guess you know me a bit. My name was Grant, but right now it's Sophie.

I don't really know what it'll be next.

Going back to the beginning, I'll admit, I was shocked, horrified, scared, sad when we woke up transformed. I didn't understand what had happened any more than the rest of them, I didn't want it. I didn't want this. I was a gangly and uninteresting looking guy one night, and I woke up as a short, curvy, even voluptous, tattooed girl.

If I could forget the person in the mirror was me, I would think she was incredibly cool.

Like the rest of them I went along, shellshocked, behaving myself. Then I wore this body around a bit and I started to like it. None of the others wanted to hear it so I kept my mouth shut, and didn't post on here ever. I went to work as a waitress and found myself earning tips by smiling at guys, wearing lip gloss, leaning over and letting them peer down my top. What did I care? They weren't my tits really. What did I have to feel modest about? And sure, I got hit on, but most girls in the service industry learn how to play it off and never feel threatened. I liked it.

Then one night I overheard some guys at the bar whispering about me and the friend. "Okay, you can take the hot one, I'll take the fat one." When the guys came over to the table, I learned the "fat one" was me. I may not be a twig, but... I cried myself to sleep that night.

It was weeks later that I met Marco, at a punk show I went to with Sophie's friends. It took me forever to believe him when he told me I was beautiful. I'm still not sure I agree or that I appreciate it, but I liked him fine, so I didn't tell him to get lost. I gave him my number.

We dated for a while. And at first it freaked me out how much I liked it. He towers over me, and he's husky, and bearded and tattooed, and I couldn't figure out where the thrill of being with him was coming from. But it felt right and more than that... it felt familiar.

So one night, as I was lying up in bed, his arms around me, feeling his breath on me, I tried to remember back, back, back in my life. And I realized that more than just this was familiar... more than just being the little spoon or being potentially in love. Something about the nerves that come with being someone else. Something about the lie. Something about Maine.

So I talked to the "new me." I asked him to do me a favour and ask my parents if they knew anything about Maine.

It turned out they knew a fair bit about it. We'd been there as a family when I was 3 years old. At least, I was 3 years old when we left. Before that, they didn't even know who I was or where I came from.

I... I hated being myself. I hated being Grant, I mean. I walked around in a cloud for years feeling there was something off about my world. I didn't relate to anyone my age. My parents didn't seem to want me around. I was lonely and depressed and I hated everything in that life.

And I haven't lately.

Sure, I cried my eyes out. I freaked out. I stopped texting Marco back and basically ruined things with him because my world suddenly disintegrated, vanished like it was never there to begin with. I was nobody. At least, I have no idea who I was. My brain seems to have suppressed whatever my identity was before I was made into Grant, and my "parents" have no clue. But that realization was healthy.

I decided I can never go back there. Back to Lowell, back to being Grant. It would be unthinkable, selfish and dumb to think I could keep being Sophie. This life belongs to someone else, and as much as I've done with it, since being here, it won't be mine soon. I've told the new Grant to do whatever he wants, it's no concern of mine anymore. I just don't want him to think he owes me my life back, because it wasn't that.

Maybe I could be a guy again. I'm indifferent to that, but I feel like 15 years or so was plenty. I think I was a woman before. I think I would like to keep being one. But I don't know who to talk to about that.

So, to the mysterious people out there who read this, who make things happen, who help lost soul like me (or make us into them) I'm letting you know... I want whatever you can give me. I'll be a traveler, I'll join your agency, I'll do whatever you need. I just can't go backwards.

Roy/Christine: Ducks in a row

That phrase always reminds me of my father. He was big into hunting. One of many things we didn't have in common. But it's appropriate. After a few weeks of wrangling and accommodating, it looks like everyone will be present and accounted for in Maine in just two months.

I'm writing this from the motel where I've been living for the past few months. I haven't done much since February besides work, eat, watch TV and sleep. I had blowup after blowup with Christine's husband Terry and I just... had to get out.

I like to think I'm a strong person, but I can shoot my mouth off sometimes. Playing the good wife to that deadbeat was not really in my wheelhouse. As much as I should have grinned and bore it for Christine's sake, there are things I just can't stand. Laziness, lack of ability to contribute, ungratefulness, a neanderthalic perspective on gender roles... to summarize, he was not my kind of guy. I climbed into bed with him for as long as I could, but eventually I just couldn't stand it.

The final straw happened after the Holidays, when Christine's brother Angus was staying with us. Angus happens to be gay, and while Terry behaved himself while he was around, he showed his true colors afterward when he said he was glad it was just us again.

"Honey, your brother's a great guy, but he can be such a fag sometimes."

WHAT.

Look, I've been around for a while - not out as long as I probably should have been but plenty long. I've heard lots of stuff and lots of it was way worse than that. That doesn't keep me from getting offended when I hear language like that and definitely not when the person who is saying it thinks he's talking to his wife about her brother.

So I launched immediately into a tirade. I saw red. I screamed myself hoarse with "How dare yous" and "If you only knews" and just bawling. I don't even know what was said. And he didn't even have the manhood to apologize. He tried to defend himself and say he's sure Angus has heard worse and he meant it lovingly and blah blah blah homophobic bullshit.

So at the end of the night I just threw my hands in the air and said "What's the fucking point?" I didn't ask for this. I didn't agree to be the guardian and protector of this fucking marriage, to someone who doesn't appreciate the woman he's with and definitely doesn't deserve me. I should have knocked his fucking lights out.

So I stormed out, only occasionally returning for some belongings - but as they're not really mine, I mostly just left it. And I didn't tell you because part of me, if you can believe it, was embarrassed to have failed the wife test. But good, because I never wanted to be one. If I ever fall in love, if I ever get married, it will be to someone who's passed my test.

Of course, Christine wasn't thrilled, but I'm sure she'll be able to piece things back together when she returns. If she was the type of person who can suffer his shit with a smile, I'm sure she's great at rebuilding bridges.

Not me, though. I burn them.

Cal/Angie: Wait... what?

I found out a while ago that I'm not the only girl David sees. He admitted it to me while we were hanging out and said that he likes me but he's not into commitment "right now." I had a hard time processing this because as far as I'm concerned one guy dates one girl and that's it...

"Are you having sex with these other girls?" I asked.

"No, I only fuck one girl at a time. We make out though."

It burned me inside to think that he was spending time with other girls, but given how touch-and-go I am about the whole situation, could I really convince him I deserve all his attention?

Despite my uncertainty about the relationship's progress... or whether we're even having a relationship... I still feel bad if I don't see him very often, if I don't check in. So obviously I'm at least a little into him, which is scary. I wish I could cut out the part of me that likes hanging out with him, that likes his big hands on my body. And I hope you're right, Anon, I hope it gets left behind when I go back to being Cal.

So I was calling him up to make plans for Friday and I got his voicemail, and I was going to hang up and just text him but I decided to just blurt out a bunch of stuff like "Hey, sorry I'm flaky, I don't really know how to do this dating thing and I wanna thank you for being patient with me... I have a lot of stuff to work out and I don't really know what this is but I'm having fun and I want to see you Friday if you're free. Okay, my voice is probably sounding really annoying now, god it's so nasal and gross. Pretend I didn't say anything. Just, um, let me know."

And then I went to go hyperventilate in my room for a few minutes, until my phone buzzed.

"Hey," he texted, "Just got your message. It made me laugh. I love the sound of your voice, don't be embarrassed about it. :)"

My jaw dropped. I got that pained feeling in my stomach.

This was, like, the first time anyone said they loved anything about me. And sure, this voice isn't mine by birth, but it just means he likes, you know, my whole self, right? It's code.

My knees got weak. I laid down on the bed. I felt myself getting wet. Trembling, I started to rub myself...

Oh God. How could this be happening just from a text?

I'm in way over my head here.

This... is happening...?

Cal/Angie: Preparations, stress and uncertainty

Maybe I'm just an anti-social person, but I wasn't really prepared for the amount of work that goes into being someone's girlfriend. After hanging out together for one night I'm usually satisfied and don't feel the need to see him much for the rest of the week. I think he's been taking this as me not being interested, and maybe that's true... I like him, but I think there's a limit to that. I'm just not willing to let myself get super close to him, because I know he'll only get hurt in the end.

I'm going back to the Inn in June. That's official. It has been for a while, but I thought I would clarify for those of you reading who never heard the news. Roy/Christine took care of all the arrangements, working with her counterpart and helping me corral all of the current occupants of our bodies for the correct arrangements. Knock on wood, everything should be lined up properly. Knowing that, it feels strange that I would even let David into my life.

But I know you understand and are encouraging... he likes me, and I like that he likes me. I think he expects things from me, and while part of me wants to see what it's like to give that, to be with someone that way, I wonder what the point of it is if I'm getting my body in. It's a "once in a lifetime" opportunity, but I'm not sure I feel comfortable, and it feels like a lose-lose situation. If I do it and I don't like it, I might hate myself (and maybe never look a woman in the eye again!) If I do it and I do like it, then how do I go back to being a man? How do I live with myself knowing what I know?

I guess that's going to be a problem anyway. I've kissed David. I've played with myself and enjoyed it. I also enjoyed having a dick of my own. Every argument against doing this feels flimsy. But the coolness between me and David makes me feel so awkward, like I shouldn't bother.

Cal/Angie: The eggs are broken

So I might as well tell you this since it's been ages since I posted and maybe you're wondering... I've started dating my co-worker David.

Considering the last post on here is Trish/Robbie telling you about me confessing my feelings for him, you might be confused... well, obviously nobody's more confused than me. For the record, Robbie had my consent to post that, and while the whole thing stung I believe in openness. It's a fair record of what we were going through and he was right.

But that doesn't make me any less lonely.

Like... what is this? What is my life? I get up, I go to work, I don't talk to anyone but co-workers and customers, I keep myself busy, I come home and I just... flop down. I had no life when I was at home in Mass, and if I came all this way just to have no life, I don't think I could take it. I was crying on a near daily basis even before the thing with me and Robbie.

I've known David was interested in me for a long time, and at first it scared me, and worried me, but he was kind enough not to be creepy about it, and indirectly that gave me time to get used to the idea. And I thought it would be smarter to try to date Robbie, because not only do I like him as a person, but we share a secret and, I don't know, I feel closer. I'll always feel that connection, even to the Lowell folks that I've kind of fallen out with.

But I gave it time with David, and he still seemed to like me. So after a few more weeks of constant emotional breakdown I decided the only thing I could try to do was ask him if he wanted to go out on a date.

I know, Robbie was right about it not being smart to date anyone like this, but I couldn't really fight the feelings I was having... not necessarily for David, but for the world, and about myself. I need this, okay?

So we started slow, I started spending time over at his place, and we'd have drinks and do a joint or whatever you call smoking weed. It really relaxes me, and we talk for a while and then... as soon as I feel like it we start touching and he leans in close... and I don't back away. It started with a peck on his lips. It was just the weirdest thing. Here's this guy who isn't that big, I guess but sitting next to him I feel tiny and vulnerable, and he could do whatever he wants, and I'm scared for my life and have no idea what's going to happen next. And he's got these thin, dry lips, and a big of a beard so it scratches against my skin. That shocked me. Not that it happened, just that... I was letting it.

Then as soon as I decided I was okay with that I went in for another one, and we were off and running. I don't know, it's just nice to have someone giving you that kind of attention. Pressing you where you need to be pressed, running their hands up your spine and thigh. I could feel him nervously making his moves, hesitating slightly, seeing where he should move his hands...

Then he found the clasp of my bra, and that was just too much, but I didn't have the words to tell him to stop. And I figured, hey, I didn't think I would like kissing him, why not just let him have this?

In the end it didn't really get comfortable at that level, but thankfully it didn't go any further. When we finally broke off,I was just totally stunned into silence. I haven't kissed anyone like that in a long time, let alone a guy. I flashed through my entire head over the story of how it came to that... months of getting steadily more confused about who I am and what I want, finding myself stumbling over my words or letting my eyes linger on on guys in general, trying to figure out what I really see. Getting that feeling deep inside, like my midsection is pulling my lungs down and my knees getting a little woozy, just because, I don't know, the light hits someone the right way, and admitting what it all adds up to.

We talked it out, and I said I didn't know what it all meant, and I'm really not in a place where I can be counted on to be anyone's girlfriend... but I liked him and I was trying to figure out what it meant. He said that was cool, "obviously," and would do or be whatever I needed, and that was so scarily exactly what I needed to hear that I'm a little afraid he was just saying what I wanted to hear to win points, which... has me really turned around. Again.

I'm still not sure if I feel okay about it, about liking it and letting it happen again, and I really really don't know if it's okay that I'm letting him believe I'm something I'm not, but... well, the egg is broken.

Trish/Robbie: That awkward moment...

I've been hanging out with Cal a little bit since December. I felt a little sorry for her, the way James and Derek cut her out of the "group" after the burglary incident. Whether Cal was really to blame, the fact that we have to rely on each other means we should be more careful about how we treat each other. We've met up for coffee a few times, and she even convinced me I might enjoy the Lego movie, so we went to see that tonight. I thought it was really funny!

Afterwards, we stopped off for a drink. Cal's not the biggest drinker, but I guess she's been trying plenty of new things since we got to Van City. As out first drinks arrived, I told her how much I had liked her last post, that it was nice to see her in a cheerier mood. She said she was really starting to enjoy pushing herself, and to look at "our" situation... not long ago, we barely knew each other, had none of the same friends, and now we're pretty close. This is true. It's not that I would have had anything against Cal back in Lowell, but we just didn't run with the same groups. We didn't relate. Now we're a bit more mature, and we have something in common. Something really serious, and known only to a few.

"So I mean..." she said quietly, folding and re-folding her paper napkin, "If we get, I mean when we get back, are we still going to be friends?"

"Of course," I said. "You're a really nice person."

"That's good," she said, "I was so worried that if we went back, then everything would just... revert. I'd wake up one morning and we'd be strangers again."

"Cal," I smiled, "Trust me, I won't be forgetting what we're going through."

"You should call me Angie, probably," she said.

"Right."

"Do you ever think about what we'd do if we were stuck, though?"

"I try not to."

"So you're looking forward to being a girl again?"

"Definitely!" I said.

"Why?" she asked, "I mean, I've been both, and I really would prefer to be a guy. No offense."

"None taken," I laughed, "It has its advantages. But I mean... it's not just about having a body, it's about having a home. Being with people you care about. I miss my family, I miss my dog, I miss Lowell... I had plans for my life, and they didn't really include this. If we had to stay, I'd make the best of it, I guess, but I'll be happier when we go back."

She agreed that was a good way to look at things. After a little longer, she finally worked up, I guess, the nerve to say what had been on her mind.

"Listen, Robbie, I just want to say I think you're such a great person... male or female, I really enjoy spending time with you."

I squirmed a little. I could see where this was going, but I wanted to let her get it out.

"I really like you, Robbie. Trish. Whatever happens, whatever we look like, you're someone that I would just... really like to spend time with. I think we should... like, date."

My heart sunk. I've been in this situation a few times before, where one side has feelings the other person just can't return, and I hoped that in these mixed-up bodies we could escape that. But I guess hormones have a strange way of working on a person. As much as Cal is a very nice person, I just didn't see her that way.


"I understand," she sighed. "It's too complicated anyway. I don't even know who I am anymore, you know? And plus, it's probably wrong to do that sort of thing in these bodies."

"Yeah," I said, just trying to make sure I didn't say anything to further disrupt the situation. "We're really not in a position to start anything."

The conversation continued a little further, but she was clearly sullen. I dropped her off at home and told her I'd text her later.

What can I do? Just be sorry, but it's really not my fault. I value her friendship, I don't want to lose it.

Cal/Angie: I could...

When I look myself in the mirror, I see a pretty girl.

Not a knockout. Not a bombshell. Not someone who's done up really pretty with makeup and all. nobody's fantasy, not even mine. But a pretty girl. I understand why guys look twice when they see me walking down the street, especially on days when I feel confident. And I won't lie, catching a glimpse of their head turning when I pass makes me walk that much taller. Like I have something they want. I know I do. And little by little I'm starting to realize what that means. A thin girl with a nice round face and pretty eyes, a little button nose and maybe a cute smile... I've tried to practice it in the mirror, but it always feels fake. But I've seen a few pictures of myself, particularly from New Year's Eve. It was like looking atanother girl, and I liked what I saw.

It's a quiet night. Chilly. The roommates have taken off, as per usual, and I'm on my own. I could flop down on the couch and channel surf, but part of me still feels like a guest here after a month, so I hole up in my room. I climb under my blankets and start to read, but something keeps distracting me. It's hard to say what, it's just that my thoughts wander.

I'm thirsty. I saw a bottle of gin on the counter. I've never tried it before. I'm sure they won't notice if I taste a little nip of it. I pour some 7up in a glass and try to add a splash of gin, but ... glub, I get a little extra. Well, there's no getting it back in the bottle. I hope I do like it.

I crawl back into bed, but the place seems to be warming up. It's cozy under the blankets, so I take off my sweater and slip into some PJs. Sip after sip the drink is growing on me, until I've had enough that it doesn't really make a difference how it tastes. I start to read again, and after a while I start top realize I'm running my hand up and down my breast. I wonder if I ever do this in public.

My mind starts to wander again. What's the difference, I think... between being alone with a girl and being alone as a girl? If I was a guy, I would think nothing of playing with myself. Why is this so normal? Why am I not naked all the time?

I take a breath as I start to realize exactly where this night is going. I slip my top off. The chilly air perks my nipples up. It feels strangely good. I wonder what it's like to have them get kissed. To have someone's hands running up and down my body. I rub my own hands over my skin and pretend they're someone else's.

"Yes..." I say out loud to nobody.

I spread my legs, as if there was someone crawling on top of me. My hand slips down my abdomen and into the waist of my PJs, feeling the fuzzy warmth between my legs. I only have half a second to wonder to myself "What am I doing?" but I already know the answer.

It's not the first time I've tried, but I could not get into it before. I wasn't ready. Now it's all I can think about. Doing this doesn't mean anything... it doesn't say anything about who I am or what I like, it's just this body. It's just my following this body's impulses. And I can tell it's reacting to something. I just want to see where it goes.

I must spend 20 minutes just lying there, massaging myself, writhing in joy, wondering if the pleasure is going to subside the way it did when I was a guy. But instead it grows. I spend a lot of time figuring out which parts feel good to touch, and which don't, and how to... I guess go between them. Just working up the nerve to get my fingers in there feels like a victory. I get this boost... It's like this tornado that keeps picking up momentum.

And then this thought pops into my head and I can't shake it... don't even want to. This person. I see them there, and I think "What if they were with me... right now..." and I keep going further and further...

It's all I can do to pause, even for a moment, just long enough to reach under the bed. It's there. I know it's there, because I put it there. I kept it there like a safety valve in case it ever got to this point. I even washed it. This big, long, pink, tube-shaped... device. Rounded, not "realistic." I don't think I could have handled looking at that, although I guess for my purposes tonight it doesn't make a difference.

I close my eyes and I see a face.And I tell myself, imagining this person's voice, "It's okay." Slowly, slowly I breach the inside, and... I feel it. In there. And for half a second I'm scared, but then it starts to move. And every part of me moves with it. I'm on my back, my knees are in the air.

By the end, I can hardly breathe. Is this it? Is this what it's like? What it would be like? What it's going to be like? I start to move it faster and faster, and I stop paying attention to how loud I'm being.

Outside, I hear the jangling of keys. The door opens. Two sets of footprints, the voices of my roommate and her boyfriend. They pop something in the microwave. I start getting really upset but I can't stop so I just... keep going as long as I can until...

Oh.

Oh...

OH.

OH!

And then I just laid there thinking about how I spent the whole night basically doing that... maybe not the whole night, but a lot longer than I used to. And I was just left with this lingering feeling of goodness. I was still thinking about it the next day... worrying about the person I imagined myself with, worrying about what would happen if they knew. Trying not to feel so guilty abut the pleasure. Making plans to do it again...

Tori: Missed me?

I'd apologize for neglecting my place on this blog, but from the looks of it there's been a lot more interesting stuff going on on the opposite coast. To all of you out there in Vancouver, I wish you the best, whatever happens this year.

As for me, things have settled over the last few months into an almost uncomfortably tight status quo. I work, I hang out with Raine & her guy, I watch Walking Dead or American Horror Story... I see friends, and I date a little.

A little. I don't know if there's something wrong with me, if I'm actively afraid of romantic success at this point, but the last year or so has totally wrecked me for commitment. I go weeks between dates, I have a brief fling, and even if I get a little comfy or intimate, I find a reason to cool off on them. So I've been pretty silent on here because I didn't want to start writing about another guy and have it come to nothing. I wanted to come back with big news, but it still hasn't happened. After all these years of being out there and flitting around trying to enjoy being Tori, I've become accustomed to a certain level of company that I'm just not finding from any of the guys I've met. 

Except...

Well, this is awful. For the last few months I've been grappling with a bit of a crush I've developed on a co-worker. He's in one of the departments I deal with most frequently and we've developed a good shorthand with each other, bonding over shared jokes and weird obscure references. It helps that he's closer to my original age, so our experience more or less lines up.

Except he's married. And he has a newborn son.

I don't feel good about myself, and to be fair I have been doing everything to forget him, but I can't avoid him at work, and I wouldn't want to, because his friendship means something to me. He's one of the first male friends I've had, my own actual friend not just second hand ones... who wasn't gay, and who I couldn't date, since I became Tori. I want that to stay pure, because pursuing it in any way would be an absolutely shitty thing to do.

It started out just as a work thing, but then one day back in November I was saying how I wanted to go see Thor: The Dark World, and he said he'd be up for it, since his wife hates going to the movies. "Really?" I said, "She'd be okay with you going to the movies with another woman?"

"Yes," he said, "Because my wife is an extremely cool person. Not much of a comic fan, but a cool person nonetheless."

We ended up talking about the Marvel cinematic universe and a whole bunch of other stuff for over an hour afterwards over coffee. A little later we had the company Christmas party and the wife left early. Part of me worried that I might get so drunk I'd lose my inhibitions and say something I shouldn't. As near as I can tell this did not occur.

These things happen. People get attached. They get crushes. Innocent thoughts. As long as I don't do anything, it shouldn't be a problem. I just need to double my efforts to find an available man who fills this same niche. Shouldn't be hard, right? Come on, Philly!

Cal/Angie: New year, new... friends

I'm trying to spend less time feeling sorry for myself. I think that might be the reason I don't post a lot lately is because I can't resist the urge just to think "I suck." Like I suck as a human being, a man and a woman simultaneously. I was feeling really bad for the holidays, until New Years.

So basically, the fallout from this burglary thing is that it's kind of cut me off from the others. I still text with Trish/Robbie some, and she's been very insistent that she's not taking sides in this, but the three of them (Keisha, Mona and Robbie, aka James, Derek and Trish) spent new years together and it's just too awkward for me to even consider trying to go back with them. I thought about seeing if Grant/Sophie had anything going on (I'm sure it was wild) or maybe if Roy/Christine wasn't doing anything too coupley... but no, I decided I was just going to stay home, have one drink, and go to bed early.

Then around 7 I got a text from my coworker David. A bunch of people from Angie's circle of friends, the friends I've basically been neglecting, were having a thing and I had to come. I resisted, but he just wouldn't take no for an answer and wore me down. I didn't even pretty myself up or anything, I just threw on some tights and a top and went over to his place expecting to basically suck the fun out of the party with my presence.

The opposite happened. The whole thing really lifted me up... they all made it really clear that for better or worse they are my friends - or Angie's anyway, and whatever I'm going through I can count on them.

And if I doubted they were serious... they took up a collection and bought a bunch of replacement stuff that got stolen, including the same model of laptop that Derek lost. Like... holy shit. I nearly bawled. Half of these people I don't even really know. But for a night I forgot that I'm not Angie, and I took all their love for my own.

After a few drinks, they started passing a joint around... and I was resistant at first, but I saw all these people basically being smart, functioning people, not insane stoner cliches (well some of them were) or messed-up druggies, just really smart, individualistic people, and if they can handle it, why couldn't I?

I didn't feel it too much, but it made me really want to touch people. Like, it made me feel really secure if I just... wrapped my arms around someone. I spent half the night sitting on the couch with my arms around a girl named Jen. And In my head, it's like "If I was a guy, I'd have such a boner right now... I can feel her breathing." But it was such a reminder that I'm not a guy... not that it wasn't nice, but there was no real lady-boner that I could tell.

Then Jen disappeared, and David took her place, and... well, it got a little complicated. He was very comfortable with his arms around me, and I felt so nice and compact in his arms, and I realized that he really likes me, or Angie, and... I mean, between him and Jen, it was almost the same. Almost. But I would give the edge a bit more to David, and I thought "I could kiss him. Right now. Just move my face a little closer..."

No harm in that. The others have all talked about how they have, or would, and I don't want to be a dumb prude anymore.

But I didn't. And the feeling wore off. And now it's super awkward, I just can't stop thinking about what if he made a move, what if I made a move... was it just for the night, or could I go back to it? Should we talk about it?

Do I want that? Is it smart for me to try? No, right? It's only a few weeks until I make a reservation to the Inn. I don't need to go complicating things at all.

But this issue isn't going to go away... sleepless nights and weird dreams about a handsome guy with a beard make that pretty clear.

Keisha/James: Christmas and a bunch of other stuff

So I guess the last time I posted was right before my date with AJ.

I dunno what happened. I mean, I know what went on... we went out for drinks, it was kinda dumb, and at the end of the night he got a kiss and then I wasn't sure if I ever wanted to see him again. I just don't know what happened. I mean, I've seen this guy's penis, thanks to his very enthusiastic texting. And the part of me that's a chick could totally dseal with it, so I was ready. My idea going in was that I was gonna let this guy have it if he wanted it, and then I dunno... he didn't make much of a move and I was really okay with that.

It's weird. When I see guys now, I get this feeling... and it's not totally like when I would see hot girls when I was a guy. It's just this, like... warmth, and I don't mean downstairs, but inside. And then they start talking, and they're boring and dumb, and I'm just like "Dude, just be cool enough so that I can bring myself to nude up with you." But I think he blew it. It's hard to even say when. He just didn't do it for me.

So I ask myself, why do I bother? Because I'm bored of not being out there. That was how I lived, and it's how I still want to live. And I don't see myself getting into the girl-on-girl scene, so I tried to get okay with this real quick. I came this close and then something just totally deflated me. It's like... wanting to have sex with someone, and not wanting to have sex with them at the same time.

So I'm still on the lookout. Meanwhile, Derek and I are handling this apartment-switch thing, because they aren't seeing eye to eye over there after the robbery and Derek and I get along better anyway. Angie can have fun with my roommate, neat-freak Lindsay and her stupid boyfriend. She blew it.

She thinks it was some kinda conspiracy... maybe, but we can't figure it out. We figure it was probably the stolen keys, because there was no broken window or forced entry or anything, but we can't really get our heads around who is behind this or why. And I don't care. I'm just gonna watch my back from now on.

Then there was Christmas, which was a huge crazy thing. I avoided helping Keisha's mom cook anything, mainly babysitting and talking to some of the distant relatives. I mainly got gift cards for clothing stores because I want to choose more of my own clothes, because Keisha's wardrobe is frumpy as hell. I drank a whole bunch, which became a problem when I was helping Keisha's grandma get into the car, and we slipped on some ice... and I broke her fall. And that basically broke my wrist. Ow, fuck.

Trish/Robbie was there, and he offered to help, but I guess I thought hey, it's a one-man job, I can do it. I should've asked. But fuck it. I don't like feeling so weak. It was one moment.

All that's left now is to make some plans for new years. I was thinking of just doing a Lowell Crew thing, but things the way they are it could be awkward to get Derek and Cal together, plus I still kinda want to meet people. Maybe Sophie can hook me up.

Cal/Angie: Not what I needed a week before Christmas!!!

Thursday night both me and Derek were working late shifts. This isn't that unusual, in fact I kind of prefer it because by the time we both get home we're both too tired to snipe at each other and we just kinda peacefully coexist. That's good because I kind of needed my "home" such as it is to be a sanctuary now that I just don't feel like I gel with the people I'm working with and it's becoming more and more frustrating. I thought working with a bunch of easygoing hippie types would be no problems, but it turns out they can tell when you're not really one of them and... I dunno they judge me. Or I feel like they do.

So Thursday night, I was ready to come home and just flop down when I walk through the door and... the place has been ransacked. Like, okay, Derek and I aren't the two neatest guys-slash-chicks in the world, but shit was everywhere and I realized soon that someone had broken in and gone through our stuff. Dumped out drawers, stolen things out of our rooms... I had my computer with me at work, luckily, but Derek left Mona's laptop out in the open so that's gone. I wasn't even able to totally figure out what all they got, because I don't know everything in the apartment. A lot of jewelry, clothes, appliances, the TV, DVD player, DVDs... the gifts I was going to give my friends and family... all sorts of random items from around the apartment that I had no real understanding of.

As soon as I realized what happened I just stomped through the apartment screaming. It was the worst I've felt since waking up this way. Maybe even worse... that was a shock but it didn't all come to me at once. This was just immediate anxiety and fear and panic. I screamed myself hoarse and the neighbors came to see what happened and I was hysterical with tears when I explained that we got robbed... I couldn't even call the cops, I couldn't pull myself together. When the cops showed up they seemed mad at me for not being able to explain myself. Or maybe that was just my interpretation.

I was too embarrassed to call Angie and tell her. When Derek got home she said she'd figure out a way to explain it, but she was pissed at me.

She reminded me that I left our apartment keys in Maine. Even though they got sent back quickly, that was plenty of time of them to be copied.

Which means... one of the people in our bodies is a thief?

Like... how could they even get all the way to Vancouver from Boston, find the time when neither of us was home, get into our apartment and out with all that stuff?

Who are these people?

I've had the locks changed, but I still don't feel safe here. I can't exactly move, but James and I have talked about switching apartments at least for a little while. She hates her roommate and gets along better with Derek (who, again, fucking hates me now) so maybe it's for the best.

Here's the most upsetting part... they took my guy clothes.

I kept a few articles of clothing from my Cal wardrobe. It doesn't fit great, but girls wear their old boyfriends' clothes all the time, right? A pair of boxers, some shorts, a t-shirt. I slept in it sometimes, or wear it on laundry day. It made me feel connected to who I really am... and they fucking took them. Out of the laundry hamper.

I ask again... who are these people?

I'm so fucking scared right now.

Keisha/James: My new hobby

There's nothing wrong with wanting a little action. But going out and getting it sometimes feels weird.

After meeting A.J. I put off texting him for a while. I know what it's like to be the guy in that situation... basically you're leaving it up to the girl, and if she texts you, she wants it. If she doesn't, no big loss. And I figured, if I didn't text him, I was no big loss to him. But me? If I didn't at least try this, I'd probably never get the balls to do something like that again.

So I texted him a friendly "Hey, it's Keisha, sorry I didn't text you sooner, things have just been crazy."

And he said "Cool what's up?"

And I had no fucking clue what to say. Like... what WAS up? I was just sitting on my ass trying to work up the nerve to text him. "Just unwinding after a long day at work."

"Yeah me too."

"What do you do again?"

"I fix cars."

"Oh cool."

And then a little later, I decided fuck it, and just went for it and texted him "I'm naked right now."

I wasn't... I wasn't even really turned on or anything. I just thought it would be funny. I was bored. And suddenly it was like I hit the on switch. The texts quickly got sexual, like "I wanna let u ride my cock, I'm so hard now." Like, it was scary how easy it was to get him to say shit like that.

And just to prove he wasn't kidding, he sent me a dick pic.

I never laughed so hard in my life! Like, yeah, I've seen an erect dick before in my life. I dunno what he thought it was gonna do for me, but okay. Sure. I was up for it. I was flattered, I guess? Like "Cool... I actually got this guy hard just by texting him some stuff."

And I guess I took a really long time to respond to that, because a while later he texted me "Do u like it? Where'd u go?"

And I just kinda lied and said "Yeah I'm so turned on, I started fingering myself."

And he texted back "Aw yeah, get wet 4 me hon"

And then I figured "Hell, I guess I could masturbate right now." Like, I wasn't actually hot for him or anything, but it's really just a matter of getting yourself into that mindspace.

Then he asked me to send him a picture for proof, and I did... but I didn't show my face.

Then he texted me he was keeping that "for future use." Sigh.

Anyway, that was like a month ago, and we've done that routine a few times since then, and he keeps asking when we're actually going to meet up. I keep getting out of it, because I guess I don't want to set his expectations too high... I mean it's good for a laugh, but I don't really like him that way. Every time I try to ignore him though, I end up getting bored and giving in. So we're meeting up tomorrow night. We'll see what happens. I doubt it will be much.

Cal / Angie: Outsider

I hope you don't expect me to start telling any stories like James. He can have all the fun he wants. I'm not in the mood. I work and work and work some more, and when I get home, I just shut myself up in my room and stay quiet, lie still, sometimes cry. I still find it all so frustrating.

Not the being a girl thing. I don't love it, but I can live with it. I hate that I can live with it, at least parts of it, but it's the whole package. The add-ons. Being Angie.

If I could, I'd quit her job. I hate it, and I'm not good at it, and I think people notice. My co-worker Dave definitely thinks it's odd that I've lost my knack for talking up the new holistic products, my "enthusiasm for life." Like somebody ripped my spirit out. And I can't tell him that it's because somebody literally did just that. I don't believe in this hippie stuff, I believe more in science and actual medicine. It's one thing to sell someone a dreamcatcher because they think it's cool-looking. It's something else when they say they totally feel it focussing their consciousness when they sleep.

But can I really make a decision like that? Part of me thinks it's smarter to gut it out for 6 more months, even though I'm pulling my hair out. Finding a job isn't impossible, and if I do it right I can quit on good terms and keep the door open for Angie to get her job back when she returns. And despite the hippies being supposedly chill, I can see their eyes drift downward to my chest. But I guess I'd get that anywhere. The good news is that their focus returns to my face when they realize there isn't anything special there. Not nothing, just nothing on display. I just realized over the last few months that as a guy, I totally had that reflex, but as a girl not so much.

I do sometimes check girls out. Not necessarily the way I used to when I was a guy (boobs-face-boobs,) but I watch girls, look at their face, watch their eyes as they shop with their boyfriends, watch their hips sway when we're playing folk music or whatever. I get a little angry. I see the boyfriends glancing around at other girls and I get angrier, especially if it's at me. I feel like I'm completely outside the boy-girl dynamic now. And it's so lonely here.

David asked me out. I turned him down, obviously... I was so embarrassed and even hurt that he didn't just want to be my friend, because I guess guys and girls can't be friends like that. I know I didn't have any "just friends" girls, and that's another fact I'm embarrassed about. I tried to be nice about it, but now there's that
awkwardness. I don't want to be around him. He's so nice, but now everything's changed, wrecked. Every time I see him I see the guy who probably had fantasies about me, and he probably sees me as the bitch who turned him down. He seems less interested in me now, just short of being outright mean to me, but it's still immature. I should probably just get out of all this.

James/Keisha: Night out

After I posted last weekend about wanting to go out every now and again I got a text from Grant - like immediately - asking if she could help me out.

For those of you who haven't been paying much attention, Grant became Sophie, the punky, curvy cute girl in this random mix of chicks. And then he disappeared. I mean, not literally, we had a pretty good idea where he/she was, and occasionally we'd let her know we were doing something and she'd come along, but we all figured she was super busy or else... well, I dunno, super into being Sophie.

It was a little of both. I don't know all the details, but Sophie has two jobs, one in an office and one as a waitress on weekends, and she has a pretty big circle of friends that bring her all sorts of places. She says to me "I thought, I could be like you guys and mope about the situation or I could take advantage and dive in."

So I say "Hey, I haven't exactly been moping. Drinking a little, but not moping. I'm ready for this girly shit. I just had nobody to hang out with."

I had no idea how much further along she was, though. When she showed up at my place she was in a strapless minidress under a badass leather jacket. When she removed it all of Sophie's tattoos were on display. No bra. She was quite a hottie. Girls haven't been doing much for me lately, but I had to at least stop and stare.

I was all set to dress in something similar but she stopped me. "You're not ready."

And I said "Fuck off, when we were guys I was the one who actually had a life."

And she says "Trust me, you are not ready for the kind of attention you get when you look like this." She tells me to wear a plain white tank top and a cardigan and jeans. Like, are we going to a club, or a library?

"Neither," she says, "We're going to a party. Don't dress like you're there to get laid unless you're actually there to get laid."

I looked at her cleavage, then back up at her face. She gave me a little nod. "Holy shit," I said. "You've got some secrets." Then she helped me do my makeup. "Don't overdo it, but don't do nothing."

On the way, I asked if this was okay to post on the blog, since I know she never posted on here, and she said she doesn't mind if everyone knows certain things, but she doesn't want to sit around writing about herself because thinking too hard about it hurts.

I kinda get that.

The party ended up being at some college guys' house that she met at a punk show. Some of the girls were dressed like her, but plenty were dressed like me. I walked around just kind of looking at how all the girls were and I suddenly got very freaked out. Pretty much every girl there was sitting or standing near a guy.

I started to get really nervous. Like, this was happening. I've been around guys as a girl, on the street or in a the store... and they're not always subtle about checking me out... but now I was in it with no safety net. This was down and dirty girlness.

I started to question why I even came. I reminded myself that as a guy I partied all the time, and I missed it. But almost literally the moment I got in there, I realized how different the situation was from what I was used to. I was suddenly thankful that Sophie got me to dress down.

I watched her. She got into "Sophie" mode immediately, of course, greeting the people she knew, introducing me around. She seemed happy and comfortable. Guys were leering right down her top when she wasn't looking (or maybe even when she could see, I know I didn't bother hiding it half the time.) And she just played it off like it was nothing. I found myself slouching, trying to lean against the wall or in a corner so people wouldn't look at me.

All the guys made me nervous. When I was a guy, if I compared myself to other guys, I'd say I was average sized, regular shoulders, tall but not too tall. As Keisha I am so small that even the "average size" guys kind of have to lean down to look at me.

I went over to the couch and sat down alone. Before I knew it, a guy sat right next to me and started chatting me up. I wanted to tell him to buzz off, but I didn't want to be rude. I was just suddenly not in the mood at all. And I know that when I was a guy, if a girl blew me off like that, it would have hurt.

He was fat. And not like "party animal athlete" fat, but just a regular, boring chubby guy. I took a look at him and realized that he probably approached me because most of the other girls at the party were too good for him and he knew it.

I used him as my shield. His name was AJ. I let him tell me about Canadian Football, which... I mean, I'm a lifelong Pats fan, but Keisha probably doesn't know anything about any football so I could play dumb and let him think I was interested. After forty minutes or so, he put his arm around me, and I took his wrist and put his hand on his own knee. "Hey, I'm sorry... it's not happening, man."

He got really annoyed and walked off, and then came back a while later. By this point I was talking to girls only. I don't think I give off a lesbian vibe or anything, but I'm getting good at "girl talk." I said that I was basically new in town (which is true) and I didn't know any good shops (also true) and talked fashion, which is admittedly kind of boring, but the fun part was getting to talk to girls about their favourite places to buy sexy underwear. And even though I couldn't get a boner right now if I wanted to, I made sure to bank that info away for later. I felt like I was really passing as one of them.

So AJ comes back and he's even drunker, and he starts apologizing and I say it's okay, I know guys do stuff like that, I'm just not that kind of girl. So he asks what kind of girl I am, and I say I don't know yet.

So he says "How about we go upstairs and find out?"

And I just started laughing. And I apologized but told him that just wasn't what I was looking for tonight. So he asked if he could get my number for when I am looking for that, and I still said no. Then he tried to give me his number in case I changed my mind, and... I took it, because it made him go away.

On the way home, Sophie and I slipped back into Grant and James and she asked me why I wanted to go out so bad when it was just smarter to stay at home and wait for this all to blow over.

I told her that sometimes, back in Mass, I used to speed at night. Run red lights. Whatever. Race, if I could. Just because I wanted to see the worst shit I could do and still live through it. Come as close as I could to totally wrecking myself. My life just doesn't feel like it's worth it if I'm not testing the limits. Then I became a girl and I got scared. Scared of my own shadow. Scared people would look at me and see a guy in girl's clothing, trapped in this body, so I didn't do anything. And I hated it. I wanted to run, but I can't. So I have to blast through it. I have to start speeding again, doing dangerous shit and seeing how far this goes. I don't let anyone tel me not to do something, I don't stay in bounds. Fuck that.

And she looked at me and shrugged and said "Yeah, but when you speed, you put other people's lives at risk too."

And I just said whatever because she missed the point.

So I've got AJ's number in my phone. And for the past few weeks, I've looked at it in my contacts and thought about running that red light.

James/Keisha

Wow, I don't want to say that my life as a guy in a girl's body got boring quickly, but man.

Like, first it was stressful, then it was kind of exciting, and now it's like... what. Now I just want it to be over, even though, shit, I dunno what I'm gonna do when I get my body back. Assuming I do.

Same goes for all of us. Like, these girls had lives that were all nicely set up. When we dove in, we, like, made a bit of a splash... I nearly got fired and kicked out of Keisha's apartment, but mostly it's just "do as you're told and don't piss anyone off." And here's the thing... I hate that, but I get it.

I read some of where Roy was complaining about me at work. Nothing she hasn't said to me in person, don't worry. And it's all true. I could give a fuck if I get Keisha fired, no offense to her. This is probably not her dream job. I don't know what would be, because I feel like I've said three sentences to her since I became her, but I doubt it's this. Pushing books. Like, who reads? (A lot of Canadians, apparently, the store seems to be doing ok.) I show up on time, I try not to be too much of a bitch, they can't fire me.

Then in October it was randomly Canadian "Thanksgiving," which was surprising, but Trish gave me a head's up on that.

The roommate... look, I don't know her story. If I asked, she would probably look at me like "I already told you this when we met." Sometimes she wants to be my friend, sometimes she hates my guts. So long as I pay my half of the rent, again, she's practically a ghost.

I've been asking Roy for details about his sex life, but she says she won't tell me because she doesn't want to encourage any bad behavior "I have to partake in some activities because I inherited a situation," she says. with her nose in the air. "You're better off not upsetting the apple cart." I say fuck that.

Convenient excuse. I'm not saying I want to get out there and get some action or anything: I still shudder at the idea of a dude touching me like that, but I can see the appeal. Yeah, I said it. Some dudes are attractive. And some girls want sex. I'm not sure if I'm one of them yet, but I can't totally say I'm not.

Know how I know? Because I know. We all have needs. I'm speaking for all of us. They don't have to tell me, I just know. Trish was dead-on right when he said to Cal that three of us have definitely gone downtown on the new bodies. Four if he was including himself. Cal might be too uptight to try it, but you can see in her eyes she's dying to break the seal. The rest of us are a little more "in touch" with ourselves. And hey, there's no harm done.

What guy wouldn't, given the chance? If we're stuck in these bodies, and we knew there was something fun we could do with them, why wouldn't we?

But what it comes down to is, I'm just bored. I've got to pass the time somehow. I want to meet people who aren't from the Lowell Crew, because I none of them are ready to venture out beyond movie nights or the occasional group hangout. We're legal age in a city where streets close down for pub crawls... I want to mix it the fuck up!

For god's sake, we spent Halloween watching the movie Halloween. We wasted the one night of the year where it's acceptable for us to wear ridiculous costumes, you know, even though we're kind of always in disguise.

It's not about sex. It's about living. Drinking, fighting, fucking, meeting randos -- and maybe hooking up -- that's life, man, and I'm not cancelling it just because I look like some uptight Canadian chick. So tonight, I'm gonna cut loose, head out on my own, see what happens. Peace, nerds.

James / Keisha: Alone with myself

I'm in my own personal hell right now. Not because I'm in a girl's body, mind you... I'm pretty OK with that a lot of the time. But nights like these I'm going outta my fuckin mind.

Start with the fact that I'm on my period. I'm not saying it hurts to move, but I am definitely not in a mood to do anything. So I decided I'd spend the night at home, in my sweats, with a movie. Maybe Die Hard or Taken or something. Then I find out that my dumbass roommate and her boyfriend are also spending the night in, which means they've taken the living room.

It's not like I'm stuck at home, but Derek, who is usually my lady-bro in these situations, works nights at the coffee shop. Cal is is a nice kid, but we don't always get along. Grant, or should I say "Sophie" (whoopdeedoo, she's the first one of us to start going by her new name permanently,) is MIA as usual. Roy is off seeing family for the Canadian holiday, plus we see enough of each other at work. That leaves Trish, who I think hates me.

But honestly, I don't feel like seeing anyone right now, not in the doubled-over-in-pain state I'm in... except that all these hormones are making me lonely as hell so that I'm practically crying for no good reason... and here's a wonderful fact you might like to know... I'm horny. Like, super horny!

I can't explain it, and I wish it weren't the case, but I can totally tell that Keisha's body is pushing me to go get laid. It's a period thing, I've read up on it. It's totally scientific. Some women just get super DTF on their periods.

Now, I'm doing an okay job taking care of myself... seriously, at this point, it's basically all I do all day, but I don't think I'm really getting the job done. It's like feeling like you have to sneeze, but the sneeze never comes. No matter how hard I rub, the genie never comes out, so I get tired and quit.

Right now, I am not open to the idea of involving an object, or another person. Nothing goes in there that isn't already part of me, or a tampon.

But I'm getting really confused. Like, I'm as straight as they get, as a dude. I love pussy, and the fact that I've been paying so much attention to my own should attest to that. But everything's all flip-flopped around in my head right now, where I could almost, almost see myself caving in and giving a dude a throw. But I don't want any guys seeing me naked or touching me. The idea makes me cringe.

It's just that... I don't respond much to girls, either, anymore. Like, I'll see a hot chick in the store and for a second I'll check out her cleavage, and then I'll think "God, what an attention whore." Like.. no shit, I'm glad to give her attention, or at least normally I would be.  But suddenly I'll look at girls that I would have hit on in my real body, and I'll just think, "I don't approve of you." And I hate that.

So that's how I'm in hell. I want all the sex, but I don't want any of it. I just want to want it the way I'm used to it, but my body has other ideas. Bad, bad ideas.

Cal / Angie: Girly

I never used to think much about what I put on my body. As long as it fit okay, I didn't care much about color or fabric or anything. All I had to do was pull on a pair of boxers in the morning, some jeans or shorts, a t-shirt and some deodorant and that was that. I had one pair of shoes, and I wore socks with em.

Now... oh boy.

At the risk of sounding like a slob, I wore the same pair of underwear for weeks on end as a guy, and now that's just not possible. A couple of days maybe but even then I become so aware of it that I feel like everyone can basically read my panties. So I've gotten very familiar with the laundromat on the corner. In fact, until she got a job, Derek was doing the laundry, and to my surprise, was very good at it, in that I never heard her complain and I'm constantly wondering if I'm doing it right, stressing out (I've ruined a couple of perfectly good bras, and am currently wondering if I should track down exact replacements as a courtesy to Angie.)

So every day begins with the selection of a fresh pair. Sometimes, to save time in the morning, I jump ahead by changing the night before, but if I think I might be on my period this is a waste, so I don't normally bother. Panties. I've written the word a few times in this post already and it still gives me a chill, let alone trying to say it out loud. It sounds so girly and cutesy... which is what they are. I was a plain white or black underwear kind of guy, since it's not like anybody was seeing them except me. They gave me room to let my "guys" breathe but not feel like they were flopping around. Now it's like... all a "piece" down there, packed in tight.

Tight is the word. Women come in all sorts of shapes - mine happens to be very, very slender, so I guess their clothes are designed to conform. I remember my first impression, digging through this girl's underthings, besides feeling like a totally perverted invasion of privacy, was that how could anybody risk cutting off circulation like that? I haven't worn briefs since I hit the fifth grade. But it all works differently for girls. There are a couple of pairs of "girl boxers" in the selection, but I find the breezyness... unsettling. Like I'm more aware that there's nothing down there when the area isn't clamped tightly. It doesn't mean I have to give myself a wedgie, but it means that the whole real estate is different in ways I wouldn't have guessed.

So as to the rest of the selection... there's a lot. Maybe it's average for a girl but it seems excessive to me. Even the "granny panties" seem slinky in their way, barely coming up to my belly button and firmly wrapping around my butt. My favorite ones aren't lacey, silky, satin, or shear, just regular cotton, but they are still petite, because I guess that means they're out of sight/out of mind and can go with everything. Sometimes I have worn those "date night" ones under my regular clothes, because 1) they're there, and 2) I'm probably not going to have a "date night" to wear them to anyway, so they might as well be for me.

Angie does not own any of those complicated lingerie things. Corsets and nylons. I don't know if I would try them on.

Not every pair of panties has a corresponding bra, and vice versa. That's weird to me. I guess stores have panties sales and you just buy them like you would socks, and wear them as you like. My boobs are modest enough that if I wear a couple of layers - two tops and a cardigan I don't intend on taking off - I can go without a bra. But I do find the firmness reassuring. If they're bobbing around, even if I don't think anyone can tell, I still feel exposed. Besides, the more fabric between the world and my nipples, the better.

The chilly fall weather, and rain to boot, has been a blessing on the fashionable front. In that there is a lot of layering to do, so I can wear top over top over top and nobody will think that's weird. And jeans, God yes, jeans. So what if they're low-rise and skin-tight, they're jeans. And I look good in them. I bought more for myself, when I realized that a lot of Angie's disposable income was mine to do as I please. I'm trying to be reasonable.

I haven't fully embraced girlyness... I still wear skater shoes most of the time, but sometimes I opt for slip-ons/moccasins/hippie shoes. I have a few times painted my nails and worn lip gloss, but I won't try eye makeup or too much face stuff. I have toyed with the idea of skin cream, because I like the idea of having soft skin in this body, and it makes me smell nice (in the sense of "I like when girls smell this way, so maybe I should.") The best thing about working in this granola environment is that nobody says anything if I don't wash my hair. So that's good. I'm still one of the least-girly of those of us who got turned this way in Maine.

I'm starting to feel fascinated by this body. How long I can stand in place before I get sore. How much sleep I need (6.5 hours minimum, 10 hours maximum[!]) how long it takes my leg and underarm hair to grow before I need to shave it again... you'd think the hippie environment would support this, but for my own comfort I came into this body with clean-shaven parts and I intend to keep them as best I can. With one exception... I had one really disastrous experience trying to clip my "bikini area" that resulted in the other of all skin irritations. So I'm going to let that be, unless I want to pay some stranger to do it for me (shudder.)

So in the last few weeks I've kind of done a 180 on this... from being afraid to think about it to being totally engrossed. I should probably hit "submit" on this post before I realize how self-conscious I am about it all.

It's like puberty though. First you're scared of it, feeling gross and grimy, and then suddenly you want to know everything you can. I remember staring at myself in the mirror trying to figure out when I'd grow facial hair or if I'd grow pecs. Instead, I got boobs.

And I'm not saying I like it, but... there's a neat feeling, looking yourself in the mirror when you start to like what you see. I don't love being a girl, but after sitting with the situation a while, I no longer think this is the worst thing ever.

Famous last words, I guess.

Roy / Christine: Women's work

I hate to sound like a stereotype, but I don't have a lot of monogamous experience. I've co-habitated before, sure, but the guys I was living with always felt more like roommates-with-benefits than true partners. I'm a pretty independent person, and when I get tired of something, I have no problem leaving it. This isn't a luxury I have as Christine. Terry is here whether I like him or not, and lately it's more "not."

I don't have a lot of privacy, something that I feel I desperately need in this state. I wake up and he's there. I go to work, and I'm "in character" as the assistant manager of the bookstore, and when I come home he's still there. And pardon me for not subscribing to traditional gender roles, but I don't think I should be expected to do all the cooking and cleaning just because I happen to have the vagina. After all, he's the one who works from home, he should be expected to do his part.

But I don't have a lot of experience confronting issues like these. I'm more accustomed to parting with my problems than with resolving them. It's why I haven't spoken to my parents in a decade, moved out of the south for New England, and had more partners than I care to reveal.

There's something to be said for consistency... routine, familiarity, comfort. I get it. I like it, to a degree. Having someone's arms wrapped around me at night does not suck, even if that closeness is a lie. It's a lie that isn't my fault, I just happen to be the beneficiary.

I started taking the pill so that I could have sex with him. It's a bit of an expense, although less so than if we were still in America thank god. Christine and Terry's attitude toward pregnancy was to just let it happen if it was going to be the case - hey, they're married, and they're not trying but they're not avoiding it. I, however, am decidedly not trying. I couldn't ask him to wear a condom, and I didn't think it was fair to not have sex with him.

I haven't gone through with it yet. I've come close several times, but I can't decide whether it's my conscience or nerves that stop me. I do other things for him - just a guy helping another guy out, as one of my first playmates used to say - and he hardly seems to mind. What can I say, I'm good at what I do. But I haven't felt up to it because I look at him and I think "God, you are ALWAYS here."

It's nice to know he finds Christine sexy, even if I don't. There's a prettiness to her, I think, but I can't help but fixate on the way I feel bloated and tired most of the time. I've been trying to launch a workout regimen, but I'm feeling the lack of a reserve of energy that I had in my real body. Christine's body is clearly not used to pushing itself, and though she's by no means obese, it's very hard to train it to go the speed that I'm used to. I end up over-exerting myself and quitting, and that's a feeling I do not like. It took years of discipline to get myself into shape the first time, and that was starting from being a wiry young man, not a chubby woman in her late twenties.

I used to like running at night, as a way to clear my head at the end of the night, but Terry has expressed discomfort with me staying out late when it's dark. I think that's immature of him, but this is still an unfamiliar neighborhood to me so I don't really know if there might be Canadian gangs out there. All the same, in the mornings I just really don't feel like running. So the cycle perpetuates itself.

Then I get to work and I have to deal with both micromanaging head offices who are impatient with me for not knowing how to do "my" job, and immature teenage employees who treat that place as a hangout, not the least of whom is James, who clearly doesn't care if she gets fired. I've stopped trying to protect her, and I told her that she's on her own. I say "her" because, although I know she was a man, I didn't know her that way. To my eyes she's just a bratty 22-year-old girl named Keisha.

Still, she's the closest thing I have to a friend right now, as this situation has found us all clinging to whatever stability we have. I'm not that tight with the other Lowell kids, and Keisha just happens to work a lot of the same shifts as me, so we confer and share notes. She can be quite charming when she wants, but that doesn't stop her from getting on my nerves. Basically, I'd like it a lot better if she treated me like the authority figure I'm supposed to be. It can only help both of us.

Cal / Angie: Bored and angry

I need some hobbies.

Since we've gotten here, I've just been so "in the moment." I'm working, or I'm cleaning the apartment or I'm fighting with Derek, or I'm, like, asleep. Sometimes I went for walks around the city, which was nice, but I'm getting bored of that. Today, I'm home from work, and Derek is out at his job, so I've got the apartment to myself. All I've done was clean a little, do some laundry, and walk around the place. I tried watching TV, but there's nothing on. I tried going on the internet and reading articles, but nothing holds my attention.

Suddenly I'm starting to realize what James and Roy and all them are talking about when they say we've changed.

I used to be more interested in things. I used to live for the next issue of Spider-Man or the X-Men. Now it all feels stupid. Right now, Spidey isn't even Spidey... Doc Ock has taken over his body. And you know what? I know what that's like, and if I can just say, the way they're writing it is very unrealistic. You don't just become someone else, roll up your sleeves and get on with it. It sucks. But I guess Doc Ock got to be a cool superhero guy, and I'm just a girl. Our experiences are different. He also chose it.

I was talking to James last week, about a lot of different stuff. How he seems to enjoy parts of this, the dressing up, the girly act. He pointed out that Tori, who's been on this blog a lot longer than we have, said being a girl was like having a superpower. Well it's not something I want to deal with. A lot of the girls on this site have called it a curse and that's exactly what it is. It's ruined my life. I want to be me again.

James laughed at me. He said I was miserable when I was a guy. Kept to myself, never went out, never got laid. That's not true. I had a girlfriend a year ago. We did it twice, and then she broke up with me. I wasn't good at being a boyfriend, and now I'm not good at being a girl. James thinks I could enjoy it if I try to. I shouldn't have to try, and I don't want to enjoy it. I just want it to be over.

I looked up where there's a comic shop in Van City (that's what they call this place.) I stood outside and tried to build up my courage, but I know how they treat girls in those places. I know the kind of guys that are in there. I was that kind of guy and I don't want to be gawked at just for having tits. I can't play video games either, although that's partly because we don't have an XBox here. Maybe GTA V would ease my mind, but something tells me I wouldn't enjoy it either.

Shit, shit, shit, I just went down to check on my laundry. How come I didn't know you couldn't put bras in the dryer??? FUCK! Because I'm NOT a girl! Even after three months of this crap. Ugh.

I'm gonna spend the rest of the day looking up recipes. Maybe I'll start learning to cook more. I've been on my own for a few months with only Derek to help out, so I'm sick of making the same pasta dishes over and over. I'll Google some vegetarian recipes, maybe try to start weaning this body onto meat, put on some weight. Hopefully, by the end of the day one of my friends will answer my text and decide to come hang out. Looking at this screen is giving me a headache. I'm PMSing.

#tmi

Trish / Robbie: Beach day

Our lives are utterly insane. A few months ago we were just normal teenagers. Most of us were going to college in the fall. Now it's September and I have this anxiety in my chest because I feel like I should be going to school. All that preparation I was expecting to do, registering for classes, buying textbooks, moving out of my parents house I do not have to do. I don't have to do anything, except find a new job.

Robbie's job painting houses officially ended last week. It was bittersweet. I was okay at the work but I didn't love it. I didn't find it stimulating or anything. Some of the crew were the exact sorts of obnoxious jerks that used to hit on me regularly at parties, except now they were trying to drag me to parties to hit on girls.

I did go out a few times with them, against my better judgment, sitting quietly at the bar while they struck out time and again at the club. I'll admit, it would've been nice to get "into" the spirit of things and join the dancefloor, but I feel so gangly and awkward as a man. I'm not sure how men are supposed to dance, even though I've never believe them when they told me "guys don't dance." I've seen them do it. I just don't like how they do.

The girls are another thing. It's amazing to watch these girls just cut loose. I wish I could be like that, or if I could have when I was a girl. Right now, I've decided, I'm nothing.

Which is to say, please don't read too deeply into it when I say the one member of the crew I'll miss is the only girl I worked with, Lauren. She is blonde and short and quite cute, and she probably has a better sense of humor than I do, to be able to put up with the guys ogling her.

She asked me, on our last day working together, what I was planning on doing for the fall. I said I had no plans. I'm not going back to school. I don't have a new job lined up yet. I can scrape by for a little bit on savings.

She said it would be a shame if we never saw each other again, and said to keep in touch if I ever wanted to hang out at her University campus. (It's weird the way Canadians say "University" the way we say "College." They say "College" when they talk about community college.) I thought it might be nice to have a female friend who isn't secretly a boy.

Speaking of the boy-girls, we had one little meetup to celebrate the end of summer. Vancouver has a few really great beaches and I managed to get them all to come along, basically daring them to wear swimsuits. It took a lot of convincing.

James was the easiest to convince, of course. Out of the three, he is the least skittish about "flaunting" it. Which I'm a bit uncomfortable with, because with Keisha being "my" sister, I kind of feel that level of brotherly familiarity with her.

Cal and Derek came too, wearing their swimsuits under shorts and tees in case they felt too embarrassed. However, I think being in a crowd of hot (and not) girls and guys in swimwear gave them a bit of confidence. Cal wore a red bikini that fell loosely over his slim little body. Derek wore a black one-piece, which seemed modest, but actually highlighted his curves. Compared to those other two, he's a goddess. Now, it's obvious that he's let Mona's body "go" a little bit through inactivity and overeating, but the girl is still hot.

However, the real surprise was Grant, who none of us has had much contact with since we got here. He's been kind of a recluse and we were all starting to worry (although when texted, he does reply quickly.) Grant's "host" body, Sophie, is a bit of a bombshell in her own way... short, but curvacious in just the right way (big hips and butt) and quite bosomy. He was spilling out of his strapless bikini top like it was no big deal.


For my part, I wore baggy shorts - guys' swimwear is so boring and functional, like everything about them.

This weekend was the most fun I've had with these guys. They let their guards down just a little bit. I kept my eye on them to see which beachgoers turned their heads, and while they definitely paid attention to the other girls, I saw some glances cast at guys, too... quickly and embarrassedly. Okay, I don't want to make them feel too awkward about it.

But really, is it such a crime? If what Roy has said is true, that's basically how these bodies are wired. It's just physical. It's just attraction. It's scary to let your body do the driving when it's taking you in an unfamiliar direction, but if that's what's going to happen, can we fight it? Are we just making ourselves miserable by not admitting that if, for example, if Robbie liked girls, then I might too now? The evidence is... pretty convincing.

But why does it have to be about who I like? It's not like I plan on doing anything, and I don't think the others are either. The only one I'm having "fun" with is myself, and I guarantee you three out of those four boys have done the same.

Well, the equivalent.