Simon/Joy: Indulging

The night we got home from the storage unit, Treena and I ordered a pizza. She wanted pineapple on it, and I decided I would be a good roomie and support her in her terrible decision.

While we waited for it to arrive, I started to sort through the things I had gotten from storage. Joy appears to have been a bit of an organizational freak, so all of the containers were pretty well sorted by season, occasion and style... there was work clothes, beach clothes, casual clothes... date clothes... all labelled and neat. Except a whole winter in a funky storage unit had left them musty. My project for the week was to properly launder each of them. So much for my immediate boost in wardrobe options.

Treena watched, advising but noting that most of this stuff was over her head. I wouldn't say she's un-fashionable, just that her style and Joy's are clearly not the same. Treena has that whole punky indie girl thrift shop look. She works from home so most of the time she dresses down, in a crusty-looking hooded sweater and shorts, but by now I've also seen her done up to go out, and she really knows how to make herself into a pinup star. Hot. She makes her whole voluptuousness and attitude work for her.

Me, I still look exhausted 24/7, in my ratty tee shirt and pre-made cut-off jean shorts that come up to here on my waist but only go down to there on my thigh (imagine my hand gesturing next to my crotch.)

After I finished my first slice of pizza, I reached for a second and Treena made this... wincing noise. Like, "I wouldn't do that..." I asked what that was about, and she put it bluntly: "Joy isn't the type of person who would go for the second slice. Maybe in an hour or two."

I said, I don't really care what Joy was like, Simon enjoys pizza. She shook her head, "Hey, I'm not the boss here. You can live your life however you want. Believe me, I'm not lecturing anybody on how much pizza to eat." She gestured to her, um, figure. "But if you want those clothes you just spent an hour sorting through to mean anything, you'll think twice."

I looked over. The skinniest jeans, unforgiving tops that reveal belly buttons and other clothes don't handle bulges well. This couldn't be me, my life. I'm not a fat guy but I use all the energy that I take in. Surely Joy was the same way.

"For the record, I'm not into starving myself either," Treena said, "That's how I wound up with all this goodness. And I don't mind it, for myself. And if we ever get Joy back where she belongs, maybe she'll understand if you go up from a size zero to a two or a four. But as a practical concern... tread lightly, you know? Eat light. Chicken, salads... not so much grease and salt."

I scoffed and anger-bit into my pizza anyway. "Ugh. Okay, tomorrow. Tonight, pizza."


After that, she disappeared into her room to work - she's works with computers, I'm not going to pretend I understand exactly what that entails for her, but she mostly keeps to herself. Me, I finished my guilty second slice and drew up a warm bubble bath. I've taken a few quick showers to get the grime off, and this certainly wasn't something I indulged in as Simon, but it felt right for me at this point. Joy has a dainty little body and it deserves to be pampered.

Plus, with my old body, you couldn't even really get me to sit in the tub, so it's nice being small enough for that.

Not gonna lie, after all the running around and craziness of the first few weeks, it felt good to relax and get my mind off things (even as, naked and wet and alone, "things" were very much in front of me.) I made a mental checklist of things that need to be addressed before I can truly live life as Joy Kershaw... and then put it away. "For now, the soak," I thought. Very nice.

Tyler/Alan: Opportunities

Well, that didn't take long. I quit my kitchen job.

No, I didn't discuss it with Kitty... she's probably going to be irritated, but sometimes an opportunity comes your way that you can't pass up.

Part of Thrio's service is that you can link up with a client and become their regular driver. You have to be available during a set regular time of the day, but the rates are a) fixed and b) much higher. It's a more premium service as compared to their regular carsharing system, and I honestly didn't think twice about it when I looked over the terms and conditions of my employment there. I figured I was just dabbling, no need to get in too deep.

So last Sunday night I was driving this guy around and we stop at this extremely shady little club in Downtown Milwaukee. He tells me he's just stopping in so I wait outside. When he comes out, he's got this other guy in a headlock. I raise my eyebrow but I don't get involved until the guy breaks free and knocks my client down. He's so busy kicking the crap out of him that he doesn't see me coming.

I... broke up the fight, suffice it to say. My client requested I hold the other guy back - Alan didn't have a lot of natural muscle but I can hold me own. He took a few cheap shots at the guy, to which I said stop, or I'll just let him go (I was getting paid the fare through his credit card anyway.) Turns out he owed my client some money, so we encouraged him to pay up.

My client, whom we'll call Donato, thanked me for having his back and slipped me a $100 bill, which I'm technically not supposed to accept. "You've got some moves, Beanpole." Uh huh.

Now, it turns out - I wouldn't have expected this before I lived here - Milwaukee, WI is one of the most dangerous cities in the country, home to a certain amount of small-scale organized crime... and while I can't speculate as to whether Donato is actually doing anything illegal, he definitely seems like someone involved in some questionable stuff.

So two days later, when he put in an official request to retain my services as a driver - from 6 PM until 3 AM six days a week at a rate of one thousand dollars per night I... was shocked, but I didn't exactly feel like I could say no.

Kitty wasn't thrilled, but I explained at least she would know what hours to expect me, and I would really just be on call for this guy, not necessarily driving him all that time. Could it be dangerous? Perhaps, but... the opportunity is too good to pass up. In the time between now and July, I would be making nearly a year's worth of salary at a conventional job.

I hope this doesn't affect her decision to come back to Maine with me, but... I think I can make it up to her.

Lane/Kari: All set

At this very moment, Lane Van Hoekstra does not exist. If he were suspected of a crime, there would be a manhunt and they wouldn't find any physical trace of him. For the second time in a year, my body doesn't exist on this planet thanks to the magic of the Trading Post Inn. Sometime last week Jennifer changed back into her rightful self and sent me an email and a selfie.

In a few days, I'll travel to Maine and hopefully change back into the person I was born to be. I told Ashley I was going on a work trip, but she didn't believe me and actually asked to come along. Her eyes got a little hurt when I gave her my gut reaction of a forceful "NO", so I tried to soften the blow.

"It's actually my boss that's going on a vacation" I lied "But if he brings me along to answer his phone he can somehow call it a business trip and write it off on his taxes. So I get to go to Maine again. Really, it was boring the first time. Nothing remarkable ever happens there."

That seemed to placate her, and she smiled and said "You deserve it anyway, you've worked your ass off all year."

I looked over my shoulder and down "Nope, still there. Maybe even a little bigger" I joked.

We both got a laugh about that. It's amazing that in a year I've gone from being terrified over having a woman's body to being able to crack jokes about my ass with another girl like it's locker room talk. I go back to my first posts in this blog about how weird it is to be so small and curvy and how bras are tricky and Rosita had to do my makeup. All of those things have now been second nature to me for months. It really isn't that surprising when you think about it. Half the population gets used to those things when they're emotional teenagers. There really isn't anything about being a woman that I can truly say I can't stand.

I wonder what that means about me. I always considered myself 100% male and never thought about crossdressing or even transitioning. Yet when I found myself in the body of the wrong gender, I felt discomfort but not crippling dysphoria. Someone from the Inn needs to become a psychologist to help process all of this.

The lie about this being a work vacation is something I toyed around with in my head. I didn't want Ashley to get the wrong idea about me and Latherman despite the fact that it would be true. I'm fairly certain she has no idea that her mother sleeps with her boss for the purpose of keeping a roof over their heads, but knowing Ashley she would feel wrongfully guilty about that so I've shielded her from that knowledge. Hopefully whoever becomes Kari has the good sense to continue that.

Speaking of my successor, I've actually started drafting my letter to them. It's full of details about memories and Ashley's friends. Part of it reads like high school gossip. I'm actually doing more to prepare that person for this life than I did to prepare Jennifer for my real life.

I've been thinking about that person. The impending Kari. Who they might be. It's possible that if I hang around Old Orchard after I change back, I might be able to watch people checking into the Inn...but I wouldn't be able to know anything about their personalities from that. Ideally the New Kari will be a responsible adult with experience in at least parenting, if not motherhood. She would be patient, understanding, and willing to put up with a boring job with unspeakable conditions attached to it for the sake of someone else.

My flight leaves Sunday. Hopefully the change happens soon after that and I won't be twisting in the wind.

-Lane

Erin/Chris: Happenings, and not all good

Ugh. In typical Erin Hanley fashion the moment I make plans - big, literal life-changing plans - they have to get thrown out the window. And in typical fashion, it's not really my fault, but because of a man.

I guess I shouldn't be badmouthing my adopted gender... it turns out I'm going to be here for a while. And unlike some folks, in my case it's by choice... at least in a "this is the right thing to do" sort of way.

So the long story short is that although Chris, the real Chris, is ostensibly a smart guy who went through law school and everything, he isn't necessarily capable of following directions. So when I said to him "Rosie and I are visiting the Inn on July 28, please schedule accordingly," reminding him of our previously agreed-upon dates, he comes back with "Oh I already booked..." for the JUNE. Can you say "Doesn't Follow Directions?" How was he going to make it as a lawyer without having an eye for details??

What a stupid mistake. And he tried to blame me, but I swear I did everything I could. So he sold off his reservation but couldn't get one for the week after, so he reluctantly gave up and told me to live his life for another year.

Okay, fine. But for the last year I have been living Chris DiVito's life like I wasn't going to be here long. I avoided romantic entanglements even when my body and mind pushed me toward them. I kept a crappy job and was barely able to pay rent on Chris' apartment while having any semblance of quality of life. My only big change was getting my hair cut every month and shaving his beard because I didn't like the way it felt.

In 2016 and 2017, I will be living Chris' life for myself. I don't care if he doesn't like what he comes back to, I need to make changes. I want to stop emptying garbage and I would like an apartment I can actually afford (which may mean leaving the city... boo, I love it here!)

I discussed this with Rosie, who was obviously a bit annoyed. She was hoping we would see this through together, and obviously isn't staying as Ahmir. She's grown more and more reclusive as they months have gone on. She feels like an outsider around white people and black people alike. I told her we would still be friends - Portland is far but we're still on the same coast, unlike when I was in Indiana. She said there was more to it than that, but I wasn't sure exactly what that meant.

It was harder to place a call to Justin - the "new Erin" - specifically requesting that he keep my life for another year. It's a crummy position to be in, and I would understand if he didn't want to put up with the hassle of being female for another year. But I know that his girlfriend left him as soon as they became Rosie and Me. I don't know what kind of life the new-him has left, but... I mean, isn't it just easier to stay put, all things considered?

He said he was eager to put it all behind him - that being Erin Hanley represented a very difficult year of his life and he was hoping it would just disappear from his shoulders when he became himself again. But he's considering it. Honestly, if he didn't want to stay as me, I wouldn't blame him, and I would make do... but the fewer transitions I think we can involve, the better chance we have of putting things right next year.

Simon/Joy: Rendezvous in San Diego

All week I've been biting my fingernails waiting to hear from the "new" Simon. Who's he going to be? A tough businessman? An unintelligent blue collar worker? A little girl, old woman? Could be anybody. I'd like to be prepared for any eventuality, but... I don't have the faith in humanity to believe that it's automatically someone who has my best interests at heart. But that's no reason to screw him over from the get-go.

I took the bulk of my savings. No, you can't just close down your bank account and withdraw all the money at a moment's notice without even having the face and ID of the account holder, but you can make strategic online transfers. Besides, it's not like I had that much in the bank. Much of what I made still went to paying off my student loans. But I had a rainy day fund, and I consider this a rainy day.

Joy is starting from scratch, her accounts drained, her income and savings zilch... I would like the new me to start from a step or two above "scratch." Luckily, I had enough clout with Aldine that I could arrange an impromptu month-long vacation starting the day I was supposed to come back from Maine. Uncharacteristic, perhaps, since I'm known to be a bit of a workaholic (see: chasing Abe Fowler down on the convention floor during my first day as a femme) but I had it coming to me and had no problem cashing it in. I would like my "guest" to be able to take over that job for me since I've worked hard to build up a rapport with my managers and clients, but if they're just going to make a mess of it, maybe they should just quit and flip burgers or something.

For those interested, Abe still hasn't signed, but that doesn't mean he won't. I just wish there was more I could do...

From Cleveland, I took a flight out to SD, really   I really wanted to just lie back and relax on the flight, but I got seated next to this guy who... well, he obviously noticed he was sitting next to a very attractive girl, unaccompanied by a boyfriend.

I should have just minded my business, but I'm in sales. Staying quiet isn't really my instinct. He asked what I was going to San Diego for and I said I was going home... explaining that I had "just" moved there. He talked about how he was a frequent visitor, loved the zoo, the nightlife, etc. I let him do most of the talking and, as he educated me about my new adopted hometown, I watched his body language as he leaned forward and back, possibly trying to test me reactions. At first I felt a little on guard because obviously he was trying to put out a vibe, and while I patiently listened and engaged with him he never got to the part where he hit on me, asked for my number or made an offer to join the mile-high club... which is good, because I really wouldn't be sure how to diffuse that situation at this point!


So when I got off the plane, I felt like I was walking a little taller. It was a genuinely nice experience, and I felt quite warm from it. People never just strike up conversations with me regularly, whether they have intentions or not. I'm usually the one doing the striking. Yes, there was part of me that was unnerved and suspicious at first, but I ignored it and got a lovely chat out of it.


I'll say this, too... I did notice the gentleman's looks. Not necessarily in an "I'm attracted to men" kind of way, but in a sort of "This guy obviously has a lot of confidence derived from his looks and probably is quite discerning about women, and he decided he wanted to talk to me" way. Obviously I just happened to be in the seat next to him, but I felt like if I looked different he might have ignored me. So I was flattered.


I must have really been glowing when Treena picked me up in the Rent-A-Van as she gave me this raised eyebrow "You look like you had a good flight?" look. I decided to keep my little conversational encounter under my hat and chalked it up to flying being a more pleasurable experience when you fit into the seats better... which caused the somewhat zaftig Treena to roll her eyes. Oops, guess I just offended my new "roomie."


Our first stop was to the storage depot where Joy had left all of her unneeded stuff before setting off to live as "Brian" for a year. She and Treena had packed up their place together last fall and sublet their bungalow. She had already emptied her locker and now it was my turn.


Now, I found later that much of the furniture had stayed for the sub-letters to use - which means someone else had been sleeping on Joy's mattress for a year, using her desk and shelves... but the bulk of her possessions, mostly clothes and accessories, were in storage. I was bowled over by the sheer amount of it, packed away in Rubbermaid bins, clothes for every conceivable occasion... from business suits to pretty dresses to yoga gear and sweats for just lounging around the house... along with a veritable cornucopia of underwear styles, not to mention a fairly robust selection of make-up and beauty equipment. Not that I'm personally interested in fashion but you have to appreciate someone's sheer dedication and investment in her image. Not to mentioned, I was relieved to go from having only two distinct outfits to switch between to seemingly endless possibilities. I was clearly trying Treena's patience as I took a bit of time to dig through it just to see what I was dealing with. She tapped her foot, expecting me to just grab the bins and work it all out later, which would probably be best done in the privacy of our own home.


As the sun set over the (surprisingly chilly) San Diego beach, we drove back to "our place," I contemplated my bounty. Joy didn't leave me a lot to show for herself... I still hadn't found, for instance, her Birth Certificate, Driver's License or Social... things I'll have to replace.

Tyler/Alan: Work-Life Balance

Or maybe that should be work/work-life/life balance, since I have two jobs and effectively two lives.

Of the two jobs, my position with Threo has the most potential for making money. If I devoted more time to it, I could probably be very well off. But it has its ups and downs. The kitchen job, which is very low paying (and seriously beneath me) is more consistent. Between the two of them, I'm out of the house anywhere from 12 to 15 hours per day (my initial plan was to only drive on days when I wasn't washing dishes, but the money was too good to limit myself.)

Being out for 15 hours at a time, then coming home and going right to bed, is fine when you're on your own. But apparently I have a girlfriend. I didn't realize when I suggested Kitty and I start fooling around on a regular basis that I was also gonna have to perform the duties of a real honest-to-god boyfriend, but she's a bit old school like that.

Everything was going fine - I would come home late, chat with her a bit, and then if I was in the mood I'd initiate something. But slowly we crept more into relationship territory. She'd ask how late I was going to be out, text me while I was at work to check in, find reasons to get frustrated with me. And I would feel guilty too, so I'd apologize and try to find a way to make it up to her. She's very keen on living (a version of) Greta's social life, whereas I am very wary of interacting with these people since I don't plan on being here anymore come fall.

She would rather I just work lunch shifts at the kitchen, so I was more free to keep her company at night. But that's the least amount of money I can make, and since she basically refuses to work - she's not qualified for anything that isn't "beneath her" - we need the cash. I would rather give up the restaurant and drive full time, but she would feel personally slighted if I was out working the late hours (when there's more $$ to be made.)

Why do I desperately need to keep her on my good side? I don't know. I need good karma. I need to get Alan and Greta back where they belong, and move on in my life. Kitty is pretty worried that means leaving her behind, going our separate ways once we get new lives and... I'm not going to lie, that seems possible to me. I'd say I wouldn't ditch her outright, but... isn't that what I did to Meg? Shit, I am scum.

So now I'm a little reluctantly in a couple. We make plans like a couple, we fight like a couple... we also joke around like a couple and screw like a couple. We've gotten very comfortable in this situation, and I don't mind putting in some work to keep it going. Maybe I shouldn't be so outspoken about this but I'm still a person with needs and desires, and she's... there, and doesn't seem as critical of my every move as Meg sometimes could be. She's quite attractive and sweet to me, and making her happy makes me feel good, warm and comforted. It feels like we're in this together, in a way that Meg and I weren't, since she got her body back.

We still have some time left - the rest of June and all of July - so it's in my best interest, if I'm bringing Kitty with me ("They're probably perfectly happy wherever they are, why ruin a good thing?") to keep her happy. And to try to get as much happiness out of it as I can myself.

Simon/Joy: Filling In the Biography

Honestly, I'm trying not to look at this whole "you're a woman now" thing as a problem, especially compared to the rest of my problems. Yes, it's strange being in this body, looking this way (like Kirsten Dunst when she did that cheerleading movie) but aside from radical plastic surgery there isn't anything I can do about that. I am currently Joy Kershaw. Big whoop.

The problem is what that represents: Joy Kershaw has been a missing person all winter. She basically fell off the face of the Earth in as literal of a way as possible. You would think this trend of people going to Maine and then wandering out months and months later (with no accounting for where they were or perhaps even who they really are!) would get noticed at a certain point, but hey, after a hundred years or whatever of Magical Inn Curses, I guess there's just some kind of spell preventing people from making a big deal about it.

But make no mistake, this is a big deal. Joy didn't think to leave any kind of literature explaining who exactly she is or would like me to seem to be while I'm here. She didn't leave me a trove of clothes or personal effects. She apparently assumed she was going to come back in May and get her life back deal with the repercussions herself, which was short-sighted and dumb on her part. So Joy, if you're out there, you've made a bad first impression on me. Cute body, though.

All my knowledge of Joy comes from Treena, who has her own issues to sort out, so it's not like, even if she had a full and complete autobiography of Joy Kershaw, she has had much time to share it with me. Besides, these days, every 24-year-old woman has an autobiography: Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, whatever... even her online dating profile. Thanks to Treena, I have been able to trace Joy's digital footprint and get a good sense of her personality.

She's a very positive person, into motivational images and corny memes. She likes recipes but apparently isn't much of a cook. She likes the beach (she's from San Diego, for crying out loud,) but prefers to sit in the sun with a Sophie Kinsella book over say, volleyball. I would have guessed she was very active, but Treena told me - a bit bitterly - that mainly she just eats good and has good genes, and that between the two of them Treena spent more time at the gym. (I don't want to insult her but you'd never know it.)

Honestly, if I had met Joy, I think we would get along... except she's the sunshine-and-kittens do-gooder type and I'm really more of a... well, if you didn't like me, you'd say shark, but I'd just say driven. We would make an interesting couple, but now I guess we're one person.

Facebook also has granted me a timeline of her last few boyfriends: one guy she was dating at the time she disappeared, as well as two in fairly close succession before that. Looks like she's not the type of girl who was single often, and may have had multiple guys on the go at times. I definitely don't think I'll be re-creating that dynamic.

But I have been putting off checking in with those people who think they've lost her. She kept up her profiles for a bit after becoming Brian, but it drops off suddenly around the holidays, and then there's just a lot of posts saying essentially "We miss you, hope things are ok..." basically alluding to the worst but never outright saying it. Yikes.

Treena convinced me to come to San Diego with her, but I put that off. I wanted to swing by my Cleveland place first, take stock of anything I might personally need more than someone pretending to be me, including a few valuables that might be useful for leverage if they wanted to try to pull something on me. Walking down the streets of my rather rough neighborhood dressed in a yellow sundress I borrowed from a fellow Inn victim who used to be a teenage girl and turning heads I realized... attractive people really don't belong in Cleveland. San Diego it is.

As to what I'll be doing there, well... I will be rooming with Treena on a temporary basis, since their sub-letters finished up at the beginning of June. I will be getting all of Joy's belongings out of storage, which means I will finally have something to wear besides this one dress, a plain white t-shirt, a pair of jean shorts and the unflattering Hanes Her Way panties I bought myself, and one cheap pair of sneakers. There was another outfit, a pair of jeans, but literally the third day I was Joy, my body got its period just randomly in the middle of the day and wrecked them.

...Okay, when I said being female wasn't "a problem," I don't mean it didn't have problems. Life's not going to be perfect this year or anything, but it's not like I'm on death row or something. I'm a hot girl. Sometimes life gives you lemons.

Last thing - because who knows when I'll have time to sit down and write about it again - Joy's occupation was as a Realtor. She was fairly new to the game, and obviously disappearing for most of a year has screwed up her employment prospects, but to be honest... I think it's a job I could do. Yeah, it's a good deal more complicated than my past assignments, but high commissions and a product people really want (California Real Estate!!) probably make it worthwhile to learn the ropes. If I get a job, I can probably fake it while I study the ins and outs.

Basically... don't worry too much about old Simon. He's got everything under control.

Lane/Kari: 23

Saturday I let Ashley sleep in after going to a (supervised) party and ran the errands and bought the groceries that day. I was loaded down with bags when I got back, but thinking she was still asleep I grabbed the mail with my teeth and cautiously made my way inside, where I found her on the couch awake.

"Need some help" she said with a laugh as she got up to take some bags without even being asked

"THNK Q" I said with a mouth full of mail before pulling it out of my mouth and looking through it and seeing a bright brochure "Why are you getting mail from Eastern Michigan University"

Ashley shrugged "They do that if you're on their mailing list. They were one of the schools that got my ACT scores."

"You got your ACT scores?!" I repeated

"They make you pick four colleges to send them to" She said nonchalantly as she put the groceries away "It's not like I'm getting in anyway. I got a 23."

Sometimes I wanted to slap the guidance counselor at her school. "No, that's good!" I reassured her. I actually had no idea if it was good or not. New York takes the SATs instead. I looked it up later and it's actually above average, but I wasn't going to NOT tell her it was good at the time. More importantly, it was more than good enough to get into the mid to low tier public universities in Michigan.

I opened the pamphlet booklet and sure enough in the back was an application. "You need to fill this out?"

"Do you really think I'll get in. Or can we even afford for me to go?"

"You'll get financial aid!" Said handing her the application and looking for a pen. I was sure about that. Kari has little income and savings and is a single mom. The federal government would give Ashely more than enough cash to afford a place like EMU. (Who are nicknamed the Eagles, missing the golden opportunity to be called the "Emus")

So that afternoon she and I sat at the table filling out not only the EMU application, but applications to Central Michigan, Western Michigan, and Wayne State. The whole time I had to keep from smiling from just how good and knowledgeable I've gotten about Kari's life as well as Ashley's. I was able to rattle off things like immunization history and allergies from forms I've filled out before.

I mailed those out earlier in this week, and they've given me a peace of mind. If all goes well Ashley will be college bound in a little over a year and set to make her own way in life. Now I'm a little less worried about the person who is going to take this life after me, knowing that she'll have a viable future.

-Lane

Lane/Kari: Broken Link

I was analyzing some of Simon's posts, looking for a mention of a person who looked like me before the change or someone who looked like Jennifer after the change, before I realized that my timing and dates were off. I called Jennifer in New York just in case and my old voice confirmed the reservation starting this weekend, two weeks before mine starts and right after Simon's group leaves.

(Also, hi Simon. I mentioned you twice before ever speaking to you. Welcome to womanhood, its a crazy ride but it doesn't have to be permanent.)

All that talk about reservations got me thinking about the inn and activated my over-attention to detail, so I decided to send Kari a message letting her know I'd be in Maine and to make sure her times and room were all lined up so everything went according to plan.

I got a response a few hours later:

"I'm not returning to Maine or my old life"

That sort of bombshell required an immediate call, which she didn't answer. I kept calling three times before she answered in a hushed whisper.

"I can't talk. I'm at work"

That didn't disuade me from bitching at her "YOU CAN'T JUST DO THAT! Abandon your life and take someone elses on purpose!"

"Erica doesn't want it back" she said defensively "Or at least she never made any effort to get it back. She never contacted me or anything. Her tone of voice made me think she was making things up.

I did a little digging later on the person Kari had becoem, Erica Jensen. She was about 23, fresh out of UC Santa Barbara, blonde, fit, and single. She worked at some company in LA that was tangentially related to the entertainment business. She was, at the time of the transformation, someone's personal assistant. These days the company website has her listed as "Social Media Director." It turns out spending all day on Facebook, the one thing Kari is actually good at, is a marketable skill in her new industry.

"I've gotten farther in a year in this life than I could ever go in that one"

"But this one is YOUR life. What about all of your responsibilities. What about Ashley?"

"What about her?" She muttered bitterly "She seems to be doing SO much better under YOUR brilliant guidance, according to your blog"

Her sarcasm made my jaw drop open. I didn't know just how much she kept up with the blog, but if I knew she read everything I would maybe have been less scathing and superior in my posts. Maybe. Sometimes I need to vent.

"She's your daughter" I chided "She's going to need her mom and you don't know who will wind up in that role if you don't take it."

"She's 17." Ashley said dismissively "She can take care of herself. I did."

I was about to tell her just how bad of an example that was when she hung up.

Tears welled up a little, and for a brief moment I blamed all this on myself, rubbing Ashley's accomplishments in her face as if somehow I was superior. That was only a brief moment though.

Kari is a flake and irresponsible. I know that because I'm constantly followed around by her reputation. This kind of thing is exactly in character for her and if my hunch is right she's screwing over not only Erica, but also Ashley.

I might have to take extra care to find out who is going to get this body instead.

-Lane.

Jonah/Krystle: Price of sins

I really wish that yesterday was the first time (outside of church) that I'd put on a dress, heels, make-up, and the like. It would have made the whole day (and after!) so much easier, believe it or not.

I didn't want to, but Moira can be a real pest. I was telling Ashlyn while we closed up on Monday that "Lamont" would be getting out of jail in a couple of days, in a sort of relieved tone - the Inn is just opening for the season, and though we were pretty confident that Joseph serving Lamont's term wouldn't interfere with him becoming himself again, all of the Inn people I know here are testimony to the fact that things happen. Ashlyn genuinely feels it's for the better in her case, but she's been genuinely happy as I've told her that everything is lining up for my church group to get back to normal.

Moira, of course, has never been to the Inn and if she's heard Ashlyn, Penny, me, and anyone else talk about it, she thinks it's a sort of running joke. So it's natural for her to hear us talking and assume that I'm excited that my boyfriend is going to be back, although she also makes a comment about how I'm obviously not going to dress the way I usually do.  Your man's been locked up for the better part of a year, she says, he needs to see what he's been waiting for.

I argue half-heartedly, especially once I see that Ashlyn isn't going to rescue me. Sometimes she does keep Moira from pulling me into some girl thing, but not that night. Moira is going to be allowed to help me shop for a sexy dress the next day.

I don't fight too hard. I like hanging out with Moira, and I have a reservation coming up. Sure, I could introduce myself to her afterward, but is she going to see a seventeen-year-old guy about to start his senior year of high school as a friend or boyfriend? Not likely.

So, the next afternoon, we go shopping. Nothing fancy, but I try on a lot of dresses before a yellow one that she says makes me look like sunshine appears. I don't really like how much the neckline shows, especially once she's pushed Krystle's breasts up to show what the right bra will do, but when I mention that I've got a pair of high heels the same color in a closet, that apparently seals the decision.

That's not the end of it, of course - there's a trip to the cosmetics counter, and she's actually really fascinated by what is being recommended for me. She's Irish and really pale, so says what she's usually looking for is something that will cover up her freckles (which I think are pretty cute) without making her look like a mime, while picking out the right shade for an African-American woman is pretty tricky, relatively speaking. I'm okay looking dark, but some women want to look lighter-skinned, apparently. Something to ask Mom about when I'm myself again.

Then, ugh, the hairdresser. Neither Krystle or I have what they call "good hair", and while I always just had it cut fairly short as a guy, I've sort of been doing a mini-Afro for the past few months. I'm not sure who exactly talked me into a perm to get it straightened, but it's a long, smelly process that I don't recommend. I've got to give Moira credit, though - she got her own permanent in solidarity, although that did lead to a lot of "black girl trying to set her hair straight while the white chick wants curls" talk among the ladies doing the weird stuff to our heads.

We both came out looking really good, which disturbed me on a couple levels. Not Moira looking good, but me thinking I look good. Not only am I making myself look nice for a guy when I'm thinking that I really should be resisting it (especially since he would find me looking girly weird), but that I think the straight hair's a sort of improvement. Dad would probably look at those lines about me finding a redhead pretty and shake his head - I think he really worried about me dating white girls at school because there weren't many options - and there'd be a whole white-standards-of-beauty talk if he could wrap his head around his son turning into a woman in the first place.

Thankfully, Karla wasn't around when I got home, although Momma Kamen was looking after the kids.  She gave me a raised eyebrow when I walked through the door with the straight hair and the shopping bags, but waited until the kids were asleep to turn off the TV and ask what my plans were for the next day. I told her not to worry because we weren't getting back together, and this was all a friend's idea. She seemed justifiably skeptical - I gather that the real Krystle has a history of going back to men who are not good for her, and she's not dumb; she could add up "Lamont'' not having a place to stay and my house-sitting for Missy while she visits Hong Kong.

Ashlyn let me borrow her car to pick Joseph up, since we'd also be getting some of Lamont's things out of storage and doing a little shopping for essentials.  That was a new and surprising bit of nervousness - even though she knows about me, it didn't really occur to her that I hadn't actually passed my driver's test yet - it was scheduled for the week after the youth group's trip to the Inn. I show Krystle's license often enough just getting into places or buying cough syrup that it feels like mine, but I hadn't been behind the wheel of a car in like eight months, and never by myself!  And while I've gotten used to shoes with with a bit of a slope to them (I hate feeling so short!), the pair that I thought might go with the dress had three-inch heels that I wobbled on. It felt super-weird to put my foot on the gas with them, so I wound up just driving barefoot. Or in my stockings, whatever you call that.

The drive took my mind off the outfit and how I looked in it, though.  Once I got to the facility and stopped the car, then looked in the rear-view mirror, I got really nervous again. It really seemed like a bad idea. Still, there was no going back, so I got out, stood by the car, and waited.

Joseph didn't recognize me when I saw him leave the building, or even when I called his name. Yelling "Lamont" got him to look. If I were really his girlfriend, I don't think I'd've liked the way he seemed to drag himself over and looked away.

"Why are you dressed like that?" he hissed. I told him Moira thought he deserved a treat, so shut up and let me take this selfie with you so that she and all Krystle's friends on Instagram I never talk to in real life can get excited.

We drove out to the storage unit where all of Lamont's clothes and staff wound up after the eviction without talking much. He'd occasionally glance over at me and then turn away while I looked the other direction. I guess that there's not a whole lot else to do in jail but work out, because Joseph was bigger and more muscular than when I put those things away. I felt ashamed to notice, even if it didn't quite feel like the Temptation it might have a month earlier.

We drove up to Missy's apartment next. She was there, although she didn't need to be; I had a key from the last time I house-sat. She actually invited me to stop by and stay a night when I needed a breather from Krystle's family, although the one time I tried was a lesson, as there were really loud sounds coming from her room and I just backed right back out, telling myself that wasn't the sort of place I wanted to be. But while Missy may be a gleeful sinner at times, like all people can be, she's been pretty generous to me and didn't even wait for me to mention Joseph had no place to stay before offering her spare room.

She was packing her bags to fly to her supposed hometown when we got there, but reached out a hand as soon as we walked in. She didn't seem much embarrassed to give Joseph a once-over before showing him to his room. It wasn't decorated or anything, but I imagine it was nicer than the cell had been. She didn't say that exactly, but something along those lines, and then added that it was unfair how randomly the Inn put people in different situations.

She meant the broken probation, but Joseph said it was just a few months out of circulation and nothing like what the curse did to me and her. She got a look on her face that usually means lots of swearing is coming, but then half smiled and said she'd let that slide because she felt that way for a long time. "But, pro tip? In the future, remember that telling a girl that being one is worse than being in jail will not get you much p---- at all."

Joseph didn't really have a response to that; he'd gotten used to being bombarded with worse language in jail, but it's still a little surprising from Missy - she looks younger than we do, and always dresses so nice. Joseph stared after her as she left, maybe giving her bottom a little extra wiggle, waiting until Missy was gone to say we were getting out just in time, before there was no going back.

He'd barely finished saying that when Missy called me, saying she'd reserved us a table at a nice restaurant, and it was on her.  I was dressed for it, she said, but Joseph had better have a suit in the boxes we got out of storage.

He did, although he held off changing into it until just before we left. We didn't exactly need more reminders of just how different our lives have been for the last months, but it was kind of amusing to see him confused as I navigated the MBTA for us; I found myself telling him that we were lucky because Boston is apparently pretty simple compared to New York or Hong Kong according to Missy and Benjamin. Seemed like only yesterday that they were saying that to me.

We got there without incident, were seated, and ordered. I thought things were pretty good for a while; we even shared a nervous laugh after accepting the waiter's recommendation for the wine pairing, seeing as we are both well under the drinking age in Massachusetts.

After a while, though, I noticed that he wasn't enjoying his really good steak nearly as much as I was, and asked him what was up with that - surely it wasn't a step down from what he had been eating! He said that he just didn't feel right being pleased with anything in this situation, especially since being imprisoned in these bodies and lives way clearly meant to teach us humility.

We were interrupted by a waiter refilling our water glasses, and I must have smiled at him for half a second, because I got hissed at about how I clearly hadn't learned that at all. I said I was just trying to be nice, because I've been waiting tables for the last few months and, trust me, there's a difference between showing you appreciate the work someone's doing and flirting. He asked how much of the latter I'd done. I said none, he said really, I said screw you, I've got to pee.

Thankfully, there was no line for the ladies' room, and I got into a stall and took a deep breath. I made a silent prayer for strength, because I knew Joseph had been through worse. Instead of going immediately back out, though, I saw what had floated to the top of my purse, figured I'd been putting it off long enough, and, besides, this would keep my from having to go back to the table for a few minutes,

It did, but I was some sort of reluctant when I got there. To make it worse, Joseph was apologetic, saying that despite being in jail, the last few months had been kind of easy for him; it was just a matter of keeping his faith and following the rules, so he should probably come out of it a stronger person in a month or so, as would I.  Yeah, I said, about that...  (huge breath)  It doesn't look like I'll be able to go back to the Inn at the end of June, because, well, the other guys who have become women told me to keep careful track of my cycle, like in a weekly planner because we haven't had a chance to get used to it, and since I was really late I bought a pregnancy test and that's what I was doing in the bathroom, and though I'll double-check, I can't exactly go back to the Inn because either a first-trimester fetus will separate from me like some monster in a horror movie but not have anything in its brain or I'd become some sort of pregnant man or it would disappear and doing that deliberately would be like having an abortion and I couldn't even consider that--

That's when Joseph stopped my babbling, asking how the Inn could do that almost a year later - was Krystle pregnant and it just took my body time to catch up?

I shook my head and looked away.  "No.  You remember when the new versions of us visited, and the new you was pretty cool, but the new me was kind of a jerk?  Well, he wrote me at the start of April, said he was a deal-maker in his real life, and he wasn't going to have a year of his life taken without getting something for it, that he may not like being a kid but he figured that being a young man just about to start his adult life might be valuable to someone, but it was only fair I get first crack.  I told him I was broke, that I'd barely put a few hundred dollars in Krystle's checking account and that was to put down a deposit on her own place.  He had me send him a picture of myself naked, and then said--"  I was crying by this point, so I swallowed hard.  "He said that he supposed that I was a nice enough piece of ass to make a good memory, especially since I'd be doing it with my own body."

Joseph was starting at me with wide-eyed horror, but I couldn't stop at that point; I'd kept it bottled up for about a month and I guess I needed to let it out.  "He said he'd be coming down the Thursday of April vacation so he could do it without Mom & Dad getting a call about me skipping school or anything that might get me grounded during summer vacation, and because he was only seventeen I'd have to pay for a hotel room, and that I should dress sexy - it was worse than this - and then..."  People at neighboring tables were starting to sort of look away.  "It was horrible, but he said it was good enough.  I prayed that this was it, but--"

"You whore!"

I felt like I'd been slapped.  "How can you say that?"

"Isn't the very definition of a whore somebody who sells her body and virtue?  Maybe you didn't take money when you f---ed him - another man! - but it's the same thing! 

"I had to!  He's obviously a psychopath and he's living with my parents who have no idea what kind of monster is wearing my face!"

"I was able to spend eight months in jail because I trusted God to see me through, but you chose to whore yourself out like that instead!  Faith would have found a way, but instead you just had to indulge your curiosity!"

I just sat there for a second, not really having a response, until I said that I thought he was my friend and that Krystle's mother said I shouldn't come, though she obviously didn't know why, and then I walked out.  I took the T back to Missy's apartment, drove Ashlyn's car back to her place, and then walked a ways to the nearest T stop before taking it back "home".

It was Karla there - Momma Kamen was working a night shift - but for whatever reason, she didn't give me any trouble, and when I cried that it was over and everything was over she his me like I always thought sisters did and said that it wasn't that bad and, take it from her, no man is worth those tears.

I guess she's right, but I had kind of hoped that I would be, someday.

-Jonah/Krystle

Simon Woodford: The Conference Day Three, The Curse, and Abe

Yesterday was an incredibly busy day where I discovered the Inn's "curse," namely that it transforms people who stay there into the appearance of the person who had visited before. If I weren't living proof, I would never believe it, but I guess looking at this blog I've got years and years of people backing me up. Frickin' crazy. And fantastic, like I didn't have enough to worry about this weekend???

My plan for the day was to track down Abe Fowler at the last day of the conference and take another swing at getting his business. It was all I could think of overnight until I woke up and noticed... something's different. Namely, my 6'1 male frame has shrunk down into a 5'7 female one. A skinny chick with shoulder-length blonde hair and a pretty face. Really pretty - bright blue eyes, cute little button nose and full pouty lips... she looks like a little bunny rabbit, seriously. Except the problem is she's me. I'm her. Whatever. I'm in this body and I don't like it, but right then I just couldn't care.

Because of my little interaction the day before, I figured I had to at least check on Headscarf Girl next door, because she might know something about it. Not that I thought she was responsible or anything, but I'm feeling pretty aggro and I decided I'd go take it out on her if possible, or at least see if she's in the same boat. So I throw on my swim trunks - they feel like they belong to a basketball player compared to this body but it's the only thing I can tighten enough to fit over my slim little hips - and wrap my upper body in a towel, and knock insistently on her door. And the person who answers is... not who I was expecting.

It's another girl. A little shorter than me and a little curvier (in all the right places, I notice) with one of those cool-girl trendy sideswipe undercut hairdos with a pink (well, fuchsia I later learned) slice of hair brushed over the side of her face. And she gives me this look like she recognizes me, and maybe she's been expecting me but is also surprised to see me?

That stops me a moment but I go on. "Hi... My name's Simon Woodford, I've been staying in the room next door... Do you have any idea... what's going on?"

She sighed. "Yes... come in." I asked if she was the girl with the headscarf, and she said yes... her real name is Treena Savoy, not Nazim Khan, but she had to spend 9 months as an Arab girl after staying here last year. This weekend she had returned because her body was "in limbo" all winter while the Inn was closed.

And me? I now appeared to be her roommate, Joy Kershaw. She huffed about the fact that Joy hadn't made it back from her time as "Brian," as they had lost touch over the course of the year. That explained the side-eye I got when I arrived.

Soon we were joined by another young woman, a black girl. This was Cerise, who had been the "cougar" I described earlier, and was the only other "returning" visitor from last September (so I was right about them being vacation friends...) They start talking about what they're going to tell the poor folks who have also been transformed, and I'm politely following along, taking it all in and squirming in my seat (because I can feel my new, um, gear under me...) when my brain decides it's had enough and that I've got more important things to do. Curse be damned, I have my conference.

I know, that seems totally irrelevant at this point, but I figure there will be time to sort out all this transformation mumbo jumbo later, but if I don't produce some results for Aldine, it's my ass - or I guess whoever winds up with my ass. So forgetting what I look like, all my brain can think of is, "How do I land that Texas account??" I mean, why not? If anything, this is a blessing in disguise. Abe has already seen Simon and dismissed him. Maybe Joy would have better luck.

Of course, they look at me like I've just grown a second head (or, y'know, tits,) but they're willing to help. I don't have shit to wear since Joy was going to return and bring her own clothes, but I'm kind of close in size to Cerise's cougar body, so they hook me up. They go through her clothes for ages, thinking "What about this, does this go with that?" And I'm just thinking, "Give me something that fits and let's go!" How hard can it be??

Is it weird walking around in some strange woman's clothes? You bet your ass. Not to mention I looked all frumpy and middle-aged. Anyone looking at me would be able to tell Joy did not look like she was wearing her own clothes at all, in clunky ill-fitting shoes, beige slacks, a floral top and a blue blazer with shoulderpads... the handful of women I had seen at the conference were all dressed to impress. I was dressed like I was dropping the kids off at Sunday School. But it would have to do. I was going to run right out with my hair all messy, but Cerise stopped me and said that if I was going to do this, I would have to do it right, so she did a quick bun which... the oddness of having your hair pulled back behind your head aside (and long enough to do so) helped give me one less thing to worry about. (I asked, why not a ponytail, and she said those were for laundry day and the gym. Ok...) I grabbed my shoulderbag, which later caused me all sorts of neck pain, and ran to my car. Ugh. Having to adjust the seat and the mirrors was just another reminder that I was now small and dainty...

One thing I did not wear was a bra. They could not supply one small enough to fit over Joy's modest bust, so I went without. The last thing I needed was some tight straightjacket thing irritating me sensitive new skin, and besides, feeling them bounce around under there - ever so slightly - wasn't too bad.

After successfully negotiating my way in to the conference without photo ID, I searched the floor for Abe (not too many people are looking to crash trade shows.) Obviously he wouldn't recognize me, but that was hopefully to my advantage. Any intimidation factor I felt while walking the floor as this petite female disappeared once I started mentally preparing m pitch, which I was sure this time I could nail. Abe was hard to miss - at 6'5 he had already towered over me in my natural look. I shadowed him a while, losing myself in the crowd, really noticing how small I had become. I felt like I was disappearing, but I knew I didn't have the luxury of giving in. I was about to make my big move when... woosh. Some jerk spilled his coffee on my top.

I screeched at him, "Watch it asshole!" - Usually I'm more tactful than that but today I just wasn't up to it - And he responded, "You watch it, crazy bitch!" That made me hot under the collar.

I went to the restroom to settle down. That was my next strange feeling... crossing the threshold to the Ladies' and nobody batting an eye. If I can be honest, it was surreal... public restroom, no urinals, extra stalls... a little shelf for purses and whatnot. A lot of my experience that day was defined by "Close but not quite what I'm used to." I took the opportunity to sit on the toilet seat lid, catch my breath, and count to ten before splashing some water on my face in the sink.

I was a mess. My face was puffy, I had noticeable blemishes that make-up probably would have hidden. The top was not salvageable, so I made a command decision just to chuck it in my bag and button my blazer all the way up. Now I was basically topless. If the button on that jacket failed, it was hello world.

The other women passed me by and I could hear them audibly scoffing at the hot mess staring at herself in the mirror, and tried to ignore their opinions. But they had a point. I didn't look like, or feel like, I belonged. But Simon Woodford isn't a quitter, and I wasn't gonna skulk away in defeat. This was still manageable.

I saw a woman at the next mirror over applying some lipstick. I took a chance and asked if I could borrow some, and she said sure. Then she took a look at me and asked if there was anything else I needed. I gave a smile, "Whatever you've got... a new wardrobe if possible, my... um, bags got lost and these are loaners. And now my top is soaked in coffee"

"Yeah honey, I can tell," she smirked back. "But I think you can work it. Here." She dug some stuff out of her purse... lipstick, foundation, mascara, and eyebrow pencil. I asked if she minded lending a hand, since I "don't normally" wear makeup. She was happy to oblige and I was honestly a little touched.

We chatted a bit, and she asked a few questions about myself... I gave short, mostly truthful answers and turned them around on her in case we had a chance to network. It was the first time I had said my new name out loud, which came out in a weird stammer, like I was guessing: "S'J...oy. Kershaw? Aldine Solutions." Her name was Mary, and she was selling office supplies... nothing much I could do with that but you never know. It was a friendly conversation while I was receiving this 5-minute makeover. I definitely never expected myself to be the recipient of the beauty treatment, but the whole time I'm thinking Eyes on the prize, worry about freaking out later.

Once that was settled I felt like a new man... woman... person. I strode out onto the conference floor with a bit of confidence and found Abe in a circle of men all laughing it up. I was about to barge right in, but I felt like I'd be overpowered. Better to wait for a moment, and finally like 20 minutes later I had my opening when Abe broke off to hit the Men's room.

I met him on the way out. "Abe Fowler right? TexWest Energy?"

He peered down me and furrowed his brow, like he couldn't quite decide what I was supposed to be. I guess I couldn't either, but at least he seemed intrigued enough by how much skin I was showing. His eyes seemed to land on the area just above my chest.

"That's right," he said in his southern drawl, "And who might you be?" The way he said it had this biting sense of condescension that prickled the back of my neck but I fought through it.

I said my new name with more confidence than when I had met Mary. "Joy... Kershaw, Aldis Solutions. I believe one of my colleagues spoke to you yesterday about your supply needs."

"I seem to recall a reedy feller who thought he was real slick."

Again I secretly bristled, but I had to free myself of my ego. "Yeah," I said self-deprecatingly, "He can be a real cocky son of a gun," I said with a smirk, trying to imitate his speech patterns to butter him up.

"Son of a bitch is more like it," he guffawed, "I checked around and the prices he offered were way above what some of the local vendors can promise."

He was bluffing. I'd researched the local vendors. I knew their rates. Lower, but not much lower than ours.

I had to think quick, but luckily my mouth seems to know better than my brain sometimes, because it had a plan, "What if I told you I could waive some service charges for you for your first year, and offer a bulk order discount of 25%, way lower than our usual rate?"

He smiled, "Now why didn't your friend say as much?" Because he hadn't thought of it, and wasn't sure he was able to pull it off. "I'm still a trifle nervous about getting into bed with you folks..." he said, looking me up and down, "But if you're on the up and up I could see us forming a relationship."

The way he looked at me made me feel like a meal on a plate to him. But the sale was everything: "We would love that," I said, only afterward realizing that that wording probably implied more than I meant.

"I'm not signing anything just yet," he said, "And it's real crowded in here. What do you say you and me meet up for dinner tonight at 8?"

For a second I was silent, my breath caught in my throat. I'd had dinner with clients and potential clients hundreds of times, but I knew the guy meant something... else. It had totally escaped my imagination that if I left the Inn that morning I might be propositioned, even though I know women in this line often get that treatment. And I had no idea how they deal with it.

"Thaaaat... would be nice..." I said, my reluctance clearly audible in my voice, "But I'm afraid I've got an early flight back to Cleveland right after we wrap up here." To salvage it, I blamed outside forces, "The stupid airline lost my luggage and I really can't stay any longer. I hope you understand?"

"Uh huh," he said, losing interest. I handed him our information packet and a contract to bring back to his people in Texas. He left me with a really vague "We'll see." He asked for a card and I said I didn't have one - again my "bags" were lost - but Simon did, and "he" could put Abe right in touch with me.

And then what? I guess we'll see.

I slunk out early, my only reason for leaving the Inn having been completed... successfully or not.

It was chaos there as everyone had awoke to find their changes. I'm sure some people got it worse than I did, I even spotted a few old-looking folks, so it sucks to be them I guess.

I just went right to my room, kicked off Cerise's cougar shoes - which had left my tender feet blistered and sore, for all my troubles - slipped off my jacket and laid face down on my bed to rest. I castigated myself for not trying harder - finding some way to convince myself to go to dinner with Abe and worrying about the repercussions of that later. But I was seriously pushing my comfort zone there and I frankly just wanted to be done for the day, as the reality of my situation set in.

I made a few good business contacts on the first few days, with some loose agreements for new business so overall I would say it was still a productive weekend. But landing TexWest would have pretty much ensured the success of Aldine on the East Coast, and I would be the responsible one. Okay, some other bozo is going to get my body and he'd get the credit and probably a promotion, but if he can keep things steady for me when I can get my body back (as Treena and Cerise assure me I can, only next fall...) I'd be set with that company for life, or at least have a nice little plus for me resume. I would hate to think I wasted that chance just because I couldn't play nice with Abe.

I mean, as Simon I've made deals like that hundreds of times and I never had to have them slobber over me at dinner. Why should Joy's life be so much harder?

The rest of the weekend was a blur. I caught up on sleep an soothed my aching feet, head, neck and back. Treena provided me some more info, which I'll share later. Right now I've got to plot my next move.

Regards,
Simon... aka "Joy" for now

Simon Woodford: Conference Day Two

Okay, no strip club for me tonight. Got in at 3 AM this morning and couldn't sleep. New Englanders can drink! It was a wild time, for sure... I managed to hook up with this college girl who was there with her friends (I love it when chicks go to strip clubs, they think it makes them so badass!) She was a bit on the chubby side so she wouldn't have been my first choice, but she was all over me so how could I resist?  (And besides, I was wingmanning for my potential clients, so they got dibs on the hottest ones... though I think they struck out.) She asked me to stay at her hotel in Portland, but I needed to get back to OOB. Still, I've got her number...

The downside is, I was feeling like hot garbage all day today and I could barely focus. The worst part is, I met our potential biggest fish and I barely had enough energy to bait my hook.

His name's Abe Fowler, tough good ole boy in his 50's from a Texas energy company. They're also looking to expand operations into the Northeast... which means they don't have any local contacts either, at least nothing set in ink. Problem is I was just so unfocused my pitch was a total miss. I feel like if I approach it fresh tomorrow I can win him over, but my boss is gonna be ticked if I spend the rest of my time on this one guy and walk away empty handed. I need a strategy. I need all the charm I've got. I may need hookers (that's a last resort.)

When I got back to the Inn, I ran into headscarf girl. I gave her a polite nod, and she gave me a similar look to the way the cougar looked at me on Thursday... suspicious, I guess. So I ask, "can I help you?" and she says, "Is that your room?"

I say of course it is. She asks, "Sorry, I thought it was booked by someone else."

Nope, just me. But if she's looking for someone in particular, I say, I've seen most of the people staying here this weekend.

So she says "Yeah, kind of an older gentleman, maybe 60. Goes by the name Brian."

Nope, haven't seen him. She said a quick "thanks" and turned to go into her room. Weird, I thought, but I just went on my way.

I was feeling so beat up, all I want to do is bring some dinner back to my room... I was hoping the rain would clear up enough that something would be happening at the beach, but that doesn't look to be the case.

Cheers,
Simon

Lane Kari: Unexpected Day

I had planned to make my next post about going out last Friday night, but it really wasn't all that eventful. Just going out with Rosita, drinking a little to a lot, dancing, and not driving home. I've gotten a lot less nervous about doing that lately, and I probably deep down enjoy the attention. I think it has something to do with no longer being afraid of my body, if that makes any sense. Friday and Saturday nights were mostly just people in outfits that might have been mildly offensive wishing me a happy Cinco de Mayo on "my" holiday. Either way I didn't pay for a shot of tequila once.

Sunday morning Ashley jiggled me awake gently, which was weird because usually if I'm hungover and she's annoyed and needs something she'll either yell to wake me up or violently shake me.

"What time is it?" I asked groggily

"12:30" She said opening the curtains "I'd let you sleep in more but our reservations are at 1:30"

I lifted my head up in curiosity "Reservations?"

"IHOP. I thought about making you pancakes but I forgot how, so brunch will have to do." With that she climbed onto the bed and gave me a big hug.

"Happy Mother's Day"

If you haven't noticed the pattern yet I'm bad with dates, especially ones that aren't etched in stone in my brain. I forgot day of the dead, cinco de mayo, and if it weren't for constant calendar reminders Ashley's birthday would have been forgotten.

I haven't lived with my Mom for years, so most Mother's days I'm reminded shortly after waking up what day it is. That leads to overpaying for same day flower delivery and a two hour phone conversation. Today my reminder came with a hug and some very bright sunlight before being told to hurry up and shower.

When I was clean and dressed Ashley drove us to the pancake house. Did I mention she can drive now? I think somewhere in my various gaps in posting she passed her driver's test with a perfect score and can now drive, which I make her do often. Now she's the one who goes to the grocery store when I forget something, or grabs some shampoo at Walmart when we run out, or buys her own emergency school supplies. The novelty of driving hasn't worn off yet so she hasn't complained. After a quick trip that involved a tricky but perfectly executed "Michigan Left" turn we were there.

Like all restaurants on Mother's Day, IHOP was packed for brunch. There was a line out the door of people who hadn't thought to call ahead like Ashley, and thanks to her foresight we were seated quickly, although the service was understandably slow.

While we waited, she was talkative and engaging, asking me questions about boring things like work, or movies, or TV...how she's glad I'm finally into Game of Thrones. It was kind of weird seeing her like that.

Many Teenage girls are, have always been, and will always be talkative. I went to high school just before the ubiquity of cell phones and I remember the constant chatter in our high school halls. Girls these days can be just as chatty, they're just doing it digitally. Ashley is constantly texting, several thousand a month, so she's only quiet in the audio sense. Today she had turned her phone off and we sat and had breakfast face to face and it was kind of refreshing.

When the check came I reached for my purse but she waved me off.

"I'll pay"

"Where did you get money?" I asked. She doesn't have a job or an allowance. I briefly though she might have been selling drugs at school but there were no signs of that in her behavior.

"You know how you send me places? I always tell you things cost a little more and keep the change"

I was actually a little proud of her cleverness. I couldn't really faulting her for skimming money when because even though I earned it was Kari's money for the purposes of taking care of her.

When we got to the car she surprised me with a big hug.

"Happy Mother's Day"

"Thank you. It was very thoughtful"

"I know I forget it some years, and others I kind of blow it off. But I wanted to make sure I did something nice this year. To say thank you. You know, for all you've done this last year."

"What do you mean?"

"You've been...I dunno....better somehow? You don't go out drinking on weeknights, you always go into work, you've stopped smoking pot, and I haven't woken up to a strange guy in the bathroom in ages. It's like you've become a whole nother person."

She was absolutely right. She had no idea, nor would she ever, that her mother's body was currently being occupied by someone else but I'm different enough that she had guessed it.

"These last few months have meant a lot to me" She continued "Helping with the driving, letting me hang out with dad, learning math so you could help me with ACT studying. I've noticed the effort"

I hugged her partially because it was a nice thing to say, partially for her to avoid the guilty confused look on my face. This was someone else's daughter, and her she was saying how great a mom I've suddenly become now that the original wasn't there. I was proud of myself and heartbroken for Kari. Ugh, these emotions.

That was obviously almost 3 weeks ago but I wanted to write it down, even though I've had almost no motivation to do so. But with all the other poster's keeping their stories alive, as well as poor Simon who can't know what's about to happen to him, I wanted to make sure I shared it. It was just a bit of a profound moment for me. That was a day I'd never thought I'd have, a Mother's day, and I got to experience the kind of gratitude few men ever will. My time in Detroit is winding down, I head to the Inn next month, and I have to say that of all the horrible things I've had to endure in this life, that day kind of justified my whole approach and the feelings I felt are going to stay with me forever.

-Lane

Simon Woodford: The Conference Day One

Woof, I am exhausted. I can barely even muster up the energy to go out and grab a post-convention beer. But okay, if you insist...

So that survey said I could continue to post my thoughts. Again, I doubt that 1) anyone is reading and 2) anyone cares but yes, as I said before, I'm a sales rep with an industrial goods company from Cleveland looking to expand our business northeast. The top sales rep, to be exact. Am I an expert in tool and die or HVAC or any of the things I'm selling? Maybe not, but I do consider myself an expert in people... in convincing them they need what I'm selling.

It can be exhausting, pressing the flesh, delivering spiel after spiel about what a great thing it will be to have Aldine in this neck of the woods, and please consider us for all your construction and manufacturing needs. I think I come across as a real honest, upstanding guy... exactly what I want them to think!

Okay, seriously. I just want to do right by my company, and I'm willing to do a lot to make clients... and potential clients... happy. Which is why I'm just about to hit a 3.6-star topless joint down in Portland, to show some of these pigeons a good time. Well, an okay time, since I'm not really sanctioned to go much further than that.

More people have arrived at the Inn, so that noise concern I had is starting to come true. The girl in the room next door arrived today, seemed to be acquainted with the cougar down the hall. They hugged when they saw each other. Guess they were vacation-friends from last year. Facebook and Twitter and whatnot makes it pretty easy to keep in touch with such people, I suppose. She appears to be Middle Eastern, in her 20's (wearing a pink head scarf. She's actually kinda cute besides that) and alone so I'm hoping she doesn't make a lot of noise... but I'm also hoping that if I happen to bring someone back to my room, she won't complain about any noise I make.

I should be so lucky. I'll probably have one drink, followed by water disguised as vodka, then crawl into bed as early as possible so I can get up and start the whole process over tomorrow.

Peace and love,
Simon

Simon Woodford: I found this survey on the floor of my hotel room

"We invite you to post your responses to this survey at any time during your stay, to our online guestbook at the e-mail address provided. The more detail the better, but please note that your responses will be publicly viewable." Ok... seems legit...

Name? Simon Woodford


Age? 31

Place of Origin? Cleveland, OH

Occupation: Sales and marketing, Aldine Solutions... we sell industrial goods (machine parts, construction, etc etc.) Not exactly exciting, and it's not a huge company but we're looking to expand and right now I'm the top representative. Not that I'd say I have a passion for the product, I just like selling whatever gets put in front of me, you know?

Relationship status? I have a few girls I can text back in The Cleve, but nothing serious or long term...

How would you describe your physical appearance? Weird question for a customer service survey. Um... I'm 6'1, short brown hair, brown eyes, stubble... I wear glasses when I drive... if I'm being hard on myself, I have days where I seriously feel the need to measure my hairline, and maybe my abs could be firmer and I could shed a pound or ten, but I do OK with the ladies so I don't really feel the need to worry about it.

Have You Visited The Trading Post Inn Before? Nope


How Did You Hear About Us? Was booked by my company, basically wasn't given a choice... like, "Here's the cheapest room we could find in Maine on short notice, have fun!"


Reason For Visit? Sales convention, networking, and a good old fashioned vacay if I can fit one in. Basically, my company is looking to expand its presence nationally, and guess who got tapped on the shoulder to make that happen. But hey, it's a free week of sun and fun by the beach... if it stays warm.

Are you traveling alone? Yes, the company put all this trust in me... what a big shot I am!

How would you describe your experience with the Inn so far? A little rustic, I don't usually go in for the whole "spooky ancient hunting lodge" vibe... but I guess I could see it as romantic, in a certain light... if I had anyone to bring back here. A lot of rooms jammed into a pretty small space, so I'm worried about noise but so far it appears I'm the third or fourth one here and we're all keeping to ourselves.

Have you interacted with any of the other visitors? See above... except the middle-aged lady two doors down gave me the side-eye as I was heading into my room. She looked like there was something she wanted to say to me, but couldn't bring herself to. Methinks I've spotted a cougar in the wild...



Upon arriving at the Inn, did you discover any luggage left behind by previous visitors? I take it back, that is a weird question. This happens often enough that they need to ask about it? How about a cloak room, guys. No, I've now searched my room from top to bottom and there's nothing there. It's just as well. I'm the kind of guy who will totally skim money from a wallet if I find it. (Should I be admitting that? Pfft, who cares. Nobody's reading this I bet.)

Tyler/Alan: Milwaukee and a fresh(ish) start

Shacking Up

There was some hostility between me and Kitty when I arrived in Milwaukee, mostly stemming from the fact that neither of us expected to see the other. As far as I knew, when Kitty became Greta (and her husband became a 10-year-old boy) they had packed up and gone to Providence, and stayed there. So when I opened the door to "our" apartment and saw her there, I just stood in the doorway, surprised. And she was surprised too, because she was in the middle of a make-out session with some guy - I think his name was Zane or Zack or something.

At first, all she could do was blurt out a panicked "You!" While Zane peeled himself off her and turned to face me. I'm a tall guy as Alan, but I'm lanky and haven't exactly bulked up. This guy looked like he hit the gym often enough, and while I can fight, I have never thrown a punch or attempted a takedown in this body so I don't really know my own (lack of ) strength in that area.

I stammered, trying to cover, "Greta! I'm back!"

"Greta?" said her beau, "I thought you said your name was Kitty."

"That's... what I like to be called," she said, covering embarrassedly, "And this is..."

"Alan," I said, "I'm the... ex, I guess. Roommate."

"You live with your ex?" said the guy.

"No... I live alone," she said rather curtly. "He lives... somewhere else."

"My name's still on the lease, isn't it?" I asked - part rhetorically, part genuinely. I had been paying the full rent while I was in Vermont. "Anyway. Key still works. I'm surprised to see you here."

"I could say the same thing," Kitty sneered. "You won't be staying long, will you?"

I had planned on dropping right into bed, but the last thing I wanted was to deal with this after a long day on the road. "No, just... stopping by..." I sighed, "I see you're busy, I'll come back tomorrow."

"Call first," she said sharply.

It was late, and I didn't know any of Alan's friends or relatives so I stayed in a motel. The next morning I called. She must have seen Alan's name on the call display because instead of Hello, she said "What do you want? I thought you were in Virginia."

"Vermont," I corrected, "And things... went bad for me there. I needed to refresh."

"Well good luck," she said, and then she hung up.

I could see she was being difficult, but I had been paying rent on that apartment for months, and as far as I knew it was unoccupied. I had a right to it, and if I couldn't use it I wasn't going to let her squat for free.

I went over and went right in, dropping my stuff by the door. Zane or Zack's shoes were gone. I called out, "Honey, I'm home."

"Get out of here, you idiot!" she said, storming out from the bedroom in a huff.

"Easy, easy," I said, "Let's just talk. I've been paying your rent apparently, so you owe me that much. Money, too, but we'll get to that."

She sunk down to the couch. "Fine, cut me off, I don't care. It doesn't matter."

"Okay, let's not... look, what happened, how did you end up here?"

The story went basically how I expected. She and Chet stayed in Providence for a short while before the police arrived - apparently they had gotten a tip that someone may have been squatting at their house, and lo and behold it's a grown woman with a minor from out of state. Chet agreed to go back to the "Jenkinses," against Kitty's wishes, because he felt Wisconsin was too far from the Inn, and the brush with the cops left him skittish.

"Things were bad before we went to the Inn, and the transformation didn't exactly help," she said bitterly. "I guess we're still technically married - we even e-mail sometimes... but it's starting to feel like it's all in the past. Like it's for the best if we go our separate ways. I'm realizing that we both knew the marriage was in trouble, but we didn't know the other person knew."

"And does he know about this? About Zane, or Zack or whatever?"

"He knows a bit," she said. "He doesn't care about me, He's having the time of his life out there. He's got a ton of little girlfriends, I see them on Facebook and Insta-whatever..."

"Instagram," I said, embarrassed that I both knew and felt the need to correct that. "He doesn't... actually date them, does he?"

"Maybe, I don't know," she scoffed. "It's perverse." (More perverse than whatever they were doing together in Providence? Who knows.) "He's scum and most of the time I want nothing to do with him."

"What about the rest of the time?"

"The rest of the time I cry myself to sleep wondering how I let him get away."

This conversation took almost all day, I'm just paraphrasing and cutting it down. I shared my story, too and we bonded over our break-ups, how badly the Inn had screwed up our (already borderline, in both cases) lives.

She had been living there since October, rent-free thanks to me. She made some money here and there by taking temp jobs that she was not well-suited for but never staying long enough to get really established. "It was just the easiest way, the apartment was just sitting here..." she said, "Don't make me leave."

Begrudgingly, I admitted it would be cruel of me to cast her out, but it wasn't fair to me to have to pay for an apartment I couldn't use. I told her I would take the couch, and that she would have to work hard to find work she could do. Of course, I didn't take into account exactly how long Alan's freakish legs are, so the couch wasn't exactly... ideal.

Weeks pass. True to form, I'm working already, but the only restaurant job I could find was bussing (I had just missed the hiring period for most restaurants heading into summer, and I think I got a bad reference out of one of my Vermont jobs.) To fill things out, I took up Alan's old driving job for Threo, an Uber-knockoff, and Kitty, well... like she said, she doesn't really have many skills, except access to a bit of rainy day savings she and Chet divvied up and kept from the new-them.

What Friends Are For


As to how we went from reluctant roommates to something more, well... it didn't all happen at once. Kitty is a very social animal, so she had already ingrained herself with Greta's friends. Naturally, they all had questions about where I was. Her answer was that I "just vanished with some woman." That definitely didn't make me/Alan sound good and leaves a lot of questions. Still, apparently they weren't so scandalized that I was Public Enemy #1 when Kitty let it slip that Alan was back in town. They wanted to see how I was and get some more details.

I protested at first - these people aren't my friends, and in the long run I wasn't going to be here very long, so why get attached? But she was insistent and brought them around the apartment to run into me.

The first meeting - there was six or seven people there, a few couples and some single friends - was rough, because I was supposed to know these people well and had no prep time. They grilled me about my missing months, but I deflected - a skill I learned well from my time as Lauren. Basically, I alluded to the idea that something (and yes, someone) had gotten between me and Greta, but we were moving past it... and we weren't sure where we stood. When you talk in cryptic terms like that, people don't tend to pry for further details, (if they're polite.)

Of course in reality, I was pretty sure where we stood. Roommates. Fellow Inn Victims. Maybe even uneasy friends, given the fact that I didn't particularly care for her when we first met, but my sympathy for her situation had grown. I wasn't looking for more and although I knew she was right man-hungry, I didn't really see myself as filling that position. But a few things happened over the course of time.

I think having to talk to her friends as though we were "Alan & Greta" (instead of "Alan" and "Greta") made her hungry to establish something concrete between us. I started noticing signals. First I thought they were in my head: a lingering gaze at me, a text to see how my day (or night, if I was out driving) was going. Little signs. I didn't know how to feel about that. First I thought it was in my mind, and then I felt like I didn't want the attention, and then... I kinda did, because hey. I can't deny that looking the way Kitty does... a tall, svelte, cute-faced young woman... getting positive attention from her felt good on a primal level. But still I played it off.

Then we started talking. Really talking. About our lives before the Inn, about my experiences since. I think the conversation that did it for me was when she asked me about the year I spent as Lauren. I wanted to help her understand what her husband might be going through, being a teenager with the mind and experience of an adult. "It's not exactly like being a teen... you know so much more, everything isn't so life-and-death. I kind of had to laugh and roll my eyes at my friends who were constantly coming to pieces over boys and the like. But there's this rush and excitement when things are going well. You're still in a body that's a little out of control, and that's intoxicating."

"What was that like for you? Did you make any... mistakes?"

"No, no... I was good. I had lots of opportunities, and at times... like, when you want to blow off steam because things are just so crummy, and there's no... goodness. You're still human. You want sex, and you want love and attention and it's like... where are you going to get it? Not grown-ups. But the people who look like you, what they have to offer, you don't want exactly that either. I... don't envy your husband right now."

Being Lauren brought with it a ton of contradictions for me. It sucked feeling so trapped between places, second-guessing every thought I had and wondering if it was coming from my mind or my body. If I had landed in a grown woman's body I might have behaved very differently, relaxed more... but the way things were, I had to be definitely on guard. I wanted attention but I didn't want to want it. Because all my available options were unappealing to me, I focused on the one least realistic but most sought: Meg. Maybe I did idealize her, but the thought that we were meant to be together after all that crap, that I had to keep my slate clean for when I could finally declare my feelings for her, kept me from doing a lot of stupid things.

As I revealed these things, and she didn't judge me for any of them, I felt closer and closer to her. And there was even a moment when I thought "I could kiss this person right now." But I didn't want my actions to be confused by the intimacy of the moment.

It was two days later, after rolling it around in my head for a while, that I phrased it this way, over take-out: "I'm going to come right out and say what I think we're both thinking. You and I should sleep together."

She came off as stunned, but I think she was just playing. "Wow that was very forward of you, Tyler... I don't know what to say."

"Think it over," I said, playing along with her coyness, "I think it would be good for both'a us to have the outlet. If either of us is going to have somebody, it should be... each other."

"You mean like... no strings attached?"

I smirked, "Well... we already got the strings, don't we? Out there, we're Alan and Greta, a couple, but in here, we can just be Tyler and Kitty, two folks having a good time. We didn't ask for this. But I think... well look, I just think it could be good. It will help us both get over what we've been through."

She leaned in and pressed her lips to mine for a moment. Pulling back, she smirked, "You're not a very good kisser."

"I'll be more ready next time."

And so it began.

I'm not going to pretend I don't still feel guilty about things. Meghan might be reading this, and the story of me admitting to her that Kitty and I were having a fling (ahead of revealing it on this blog) was not one of the best feelings I've ever experienced, sure as shit, but it was a necessary awkward conversation so that we could all get on with our lives and maybe I could feel free to talk about things on this blog again.

Sometimes I feel regret, when I'm lying in bed with Greta, because I know it should be someone else. I shouldn't have even gotten here, but things happened how they did and I... I responded the way I did. You can't un-ring that bell.

I'm just someone trying to find the most comfort he can in a shitty life. That may be all I have left, for as long as my days.

Lane/Kari: Facing Myself

Hi.
It's been a long time sinceI posted last. I tried to write a couple of posts a few times but the words just wouldn't come out right and I couldn't get into the correct headspace. But Tyler's last couple of posts have given me a bit of courage to share the traumatizing event that happened to me last week.

I got dumped.

That must be a big shock to you all, considering I never made any mention of me being in a relationship. Let me back up a little.

My last entry recounted the first time that Darius and I had sex, and it still makes me blush thinking about writing it despite the dozens of subsequent times it happened. My outlook and plan at the time was to keep things casual and exploratory with Darius, but not to get too attached since I was leaving in June. That plan lasted about 3 days.

It was a Friday night and we had just finished seeing a movie and we went back to his place. We we had finished with the sex I was still sorta seeing stars with my head curled up under his arm while he kissed the top of my hair and stroked my side.

"Babe, I know you said you wanted to take things slow" he said soft of voice and firm of tone "But this thing that we got...I want it to be more. I think we should be exclusive"

I was about to recite my practiced and planned response of how I needed to take things slowly and yadda yadda yadda when the words "I'd love that" escaped my lips.

There's this thing I do when trying to pass myself off as someone else where I just sit back sometimes and let my subconscious do the talking or reacting. On some level my brain is swimming in Kari's hormones so I feel like Kari does, so sometimes I just go with my gut instinct. This came in really handy when I first started having sex with Latherman but I've used it in other situations. I'm 99% certain women's/mother's intuition is real.

So just like that I had a boyfriend. A kind, courteous, charming boyfriend who texted me everyday and called me beautiful and gave a self conscious guy in a woman's body a major ego boost and pick me up. This was major news and definitely blog worthy.

But I couldn't write.

I'd sit down, ready to break the news and I would suddenly be rather embarrassed. Writing in this blog is when I'm Lane. Whenever I speak to someone else or am out in the world, I have to be Kari. When I spill my guts here, I'm Lane again. And Lane would never even think about doing some of the things that I did to and with Darius. I'm blushing a little just thinking about them. I know I shouldn't be worried about what you guys think, this blog is filled with the chronicles of former men in women's bodies having sex with men, but even after all these months there's the tiniest bit of ick factor that this blog activates. I had no trouble writing about the affair with Latherman because that was something that I feel I have to do. Darius was something that I wanted to do. That I chose to do. That I kept doing.

So why did I get dumped?

One fine morning a couple of weeks ago me and Darius were tangled up under his covers when we heard a phone vibrating from underneath our pile of clothes. Darius has a busy job and often gets important texts and we weren't sure whose phone was buzzing so he checked. It was mine and he accidentally saw the text.

"Who's Nick L.?" He asked, sounding slightly pissed off

I froze. I stammered a bit but I don't think I said any actual words

"And why is he buying you panties?"

The text he had read said. "Bought you some sexy panties to replace the ones I ripped."

I should explain. I never stopped having sex Kari's boss, even after me and Darius were official. That meant I cheated on him about a dozen times over the course of our short relationship, which was a shitty thing for me to do. I justified it with some serious mental gymnastics and compartmentalizing. I told myself that Latherman was a Kari thing, and not me. It wasn't cheating if my emotions weren't in it. It was purely physical.

But no amount of explanation would make Darius believe that Latherman was having sex with Kari's body, but he was dating the man's mind inside of it at the time.

"Isn't that your boss?!" He asked after he put it together "Are you fucking your boss?"

"Yes." I said softly. Unable to lie. "But it means nothing. It's just..."

"Is he fucking you at work?" Darius said with a look of disgust that still haunts me "Like, is that what your job is there? Is he pressuring you?"

"It's just that with Ashley--"

"That's illegal Kari"

"I'm not forced to..."

"You need to get going" He said sternly. He didn't yell at me. He could have and he should have but he didn't yell at me. This man was in control at all times and that's one of my favorite things about him. "I need to think about this."

While he thought I sat in the bedroom back at Kari's apartment, wringing my hands waiting for the phone to wring. It took about 12 hours before he called.

"We need to take a break" He said coldly and firmly "I'm not trying to fault you or shame you, but I can't trust you right now. So you need to get your shit in order, and you need to do it by yourself."

I sniffled a goodbye but the second he hung up I cried. For hours. And then I stopped. And then cried some more. Did anyone else on this blog ever mention that estrogen makes crying easier? Because I've been dumped before by women who I'd liked more and dated longer than I've been with Darius but I was reduced to a blubbering mess for awhile.

I'm not over it per se, but writing this has helped. I've immersed myself into other aspects of this life and I'll probably write about them now that I've cracked my writer's block. It's just before midnight on Cinco de Mayo, which apparently Kari's family doesn't celebrate because they aren't from the Pueblo State in Mexico and it's really more of a commercialized holiday here in the States. But is a Thursday and me and Rosita will be going out so maybe I'll update on that.

Until then

-Lane