Jonah/Krystle: Surprise! It's Your Birthday!

It's funny to see Jordan write about how the pandemic has made him feel a lot like he was back in his old life, because it's been the opposite for me:  The longer this goes on, the more I feel like my old life is a dream.

I don't mean that as any sort of metaphor or whatever, but because even after five years, I'm still usually a guy in my dreams,  I'm stuck at 16 in those dreams, still in high school, even though the person going by my real name is old enough to drink and I've just turned 28, as far as anybody but a few people is concerned.  I don't remember those dreams very often, just enough to occasionally have a reminder that even though I'll never give up being Moira's mommy and I can get through all the female stuff on autopilot these days, some part of my head won't let go of being a guy.

Meanwhile, in the real world, the fact that we're not really doing anything new means that Momma Kamen is often reaching into the past, especially when Moira does something new, relating it to how the original Krystle was as a toddler, or Karla's kids, and after seven months, the stories have been repeated enough that I recognize some of them, and it's not really awkward bluffing to get her to say more.  Her or Karla - we don't see her in person very often, because she's living with her boyfriend and there's baby-daddies that makes her circle pretty big, but she skypes with her mom a lot, and likes to see her niece, and since it's not a very big apartment and I don't want to cause trouble, it means I get pulled in, and there's more reminiscence.  And I'm not sure how to put the rest of it, because I didn't finish school and all, but if you look at Krystle's life and mine as one story, the way it must look for them, they've kind of filled in the gaps of how "Krystle" went from a rebellious girl who stripped for money to a church-going woman who slipped up one night and got pregnant but has mostly played by the rules otherwise.  Like, there's a path from one to the other that makes sense to them, and even if I'm nothing like the Krystle they knew before, and the more they do that, the more it makes sense to me.  I still know who I am, underneath, but it's also starting to feel like I've always been Krystle.

And then there's stuff like my birthday.  Or hers.  Momma K put it up on the big calendar in the kitchen, because everything in her datebook goes up on that, and when I was writing that I had a job interview coming up, Moira asks what I'm writing, then has me pick her up so that she can point at things and ask what they are.  When I get to the one that's just my name, I'm like "Krystle - oh!, my birthday", kid of half-surprised.  Her eyes get big, though, asking if there are going to be presents and cake.  I don't know if we can afford presents, I say, but I suppose we can arrange a cake.  That, obviously, becomes the biggest event of the month, as far as she's concerned.

It's fun.  I let her help with frosting and blow out the candles, she has a huge sugar rush all night, and Momma K laughs when she finally goes down, saying that she remembers "me" being kind of a brat about "my" birthday, demanding presents, and it's funny to her that I'd apparently forget it.  I've had a bit of wine, so I'm a little less guarded, saying "well, it's not as important as" and only stop myself because, at least for now, Krystle's birthday has bumped mine out of my head.  I recover with "as important as hers is" while remembering December 28th, but I've kind of got to pause and count on my fingers to figure out how old I actually am.

After that, Krystal calls to wish me a happy birthday, which is nice.  Still, it's got me feeling stressed, so I head out to the fire escape to get a little time alone, outside of that apartment.

I'm not the only one; there's a man on the same level but a couple units over who's also out there, and just looking at him, I feel kind of like we've got something in common.  "Hey," I say, "you look like you wish you smoked too."

He's confused.  "What?"

"You know, how in movies, people will take a break to do that but what they really want is to get away from their family for a moment, or other stuff that they're not supposed to want to get away from?"

"And meanwhile we look stupid doing that, especially since we apparently both forgot our phones?"

"Exactly!"  We both laugh, and I extend a hand despite it being way too far to shake.  "Hi; I'm Krystle."

"I know.  You've, um, grown up, but I recognize you."  He leans over the rail and extends his hand too, and between doing that and the way he says "grown up", he winds up paying some more attention to my chest, making me want to zip my hoodie up without being too obvious about it while also noting that he's actually been staring less than most guys do.

Still, I groan, though it probably sounds more embarrassed to him than me hating that I've walked into this when I was trying to escape people acting like we had history.  "I'm sorry!  I don't remember your name!"

"It's okay; my mom left my father when I was thirteen and we weren't exactly running with the same people at school back then.  I'm Gabe.  Uh, Gabriel."

I give him a good look, hoping he'll think I'm trying to remember him when I'm really just scoping him out for the first time.  He's a bit taller than me, wears glasses, has short natural hair and a beard.  He's wearing short sleeves and from what I can see of his arms, he doesn't spend a whole lot of time in the gym trying to get bulked up.  There's a company name on his t-shirt I don't recognize.  Seems pretty harmless.  "Okay.  Yeah, Gabriel."

He smiles a big toothy grin.  "You don't recognize me at all, do you?"

"No... I'm sorry!"  I hate the way I draw out the "no" and how my voice kind of tends to squeal when I apologize; it started out as me imitating how I thought girls sounded and it stuck.

"That's okay; Mom moved us back to Georgia and I never got closer to here than New York since, but that's as close as anyone else was when the Covid got him, so it wound up being on me to make arrangements and go through his things."

"Oh no!  I--"

"Don't apologize; you didn't have anything to do with it and if you're lucky the most you ever knew him was saying hi in the elevator.  He wasn't exactly a great guy."

"Uh, okay."

"Yeah.  Anyway, don't wanna go back in there, can't really go that many other places, so here I am."

"Here you are."

We stood in silence for a while before he asked about me, and I told him about Moira and how I've been furloughed for six months and was starting to look for other jobs in case The Changeling never came back all the way, but didn't really want to because even though it was just waitressing it was also my best friends.  "But I can't do it forever.  I turned 28 today, have a 3-year-old girl, and still live with, y'know, my mother."

Fortunately, he picked up on the "today" bit.  "It's your birthday?  Congratulations!  What's the best place to get some nice baked goods and sit six feet apart?"

"Whoa!  That's, uh--"

"Krystle, I buried my father two days ago, there's a pandemic, and this is the closest thing I've had to fun since I got here.  Let me buy you a cupcake."

I started trying to come up with some sort of polite reply, but was saved when he heard his phone ring inside.  "Gotta get that.  But it was nice to see you again."

"You too."

I went inside to see that Momma Kamen was still on the couch, watching some CBS crime show.  "I hear that Gabriel boy has a nice job in Manhattan."

"How would you--  It's not like that!  His father just died and he clearly just wanted someone to talk to."

"Uh-huh.  Still, happy birthday to you!"

Just what I need - Krystle's mom trying to fix me up with someone from so far back in Krystle's life that she's probably forgotten him herself.

-Jonah/Krystle

Jordan/Yuan-Wei: Different sorts of weird

Hey, it's been a minute, and I can't even really say that the last year of my life has been screwy in ways that don't involve the Inn, because I've still been in contact with Chen-Ai/Bingbing about stuff, and she still acts like she wants to be friends. Like, the sort of friend who charges you ten thousand American dollars to sign documents so that nobody goes looking for Chen-Ai because she didn't file her taxes on multiple continents, but still a friendly sort of mercenary.  We're helping each other out, so I should be happy to kick some cash her way!  Really, she says, I should just let her hire herself as her own business manager.  I'm actually not sure why she hasn't just gone and done that anyway, beyond maybe not wanting to have an ugly confrontation when the Inn spits out a new Chen-ai.  I half-suspect that she had someone lined up, but she's gotten cagier since the pandemic, because who knows when there will be enough people at the Inn to trigger the curse?  It didn't happen at all this year, from what I can tell, and I have moments when I think we won't be out of the woods by next May.

I never thought I'd be thankful for travel restrictions, but she absolutely would have come to visit "friends in California" this summer if that had been a thing.  Of course, on the other side, it's been a tricky thing with my visa.  VFX work is still going on, so I've got a job in California, even if CGI is not as easy to do from home as you might think - the 3D scanners and powerful render farms are at the office, so I'm a bit limited in what I can do at home and there's lag.  Plus, the amount of work has tapered off as studios push movies out and thus need less overtime to hit a date, and a lot of film and TV just hasn't been shooting, which means less work is coming in.  Ironically, a lot of what is coming in is from China, which raises the question of maybe me working from "home" in Hong Kong.  There's been talk, but the lag would really suck unless we opened an actual office there, which the guys up top aren't quite ready to do.  Plus, if I leave here for Hong Kong, who knows when or if I'll be able to come back.  My passport as Yuan-Wei may be Chinese, but in my head and heart I'm still Chinese-American, and not being able to see my family or anything would just suck.

Not that I don't occasionally think of picking up stakes and settling in Hong Kong for good.  It's not like I didn't notice racism for the first twenty-five years of my life, but when you're a big guy who has lived in Queens all his life, your voice says you belong there, you've got places you can go to escape it because everyone's Asian there, and I was kind of tough to beat up.  I didn't know much kung fu, but I was fucking difficult to knock over at my size.  Being fat isn't much fun, and makes you another sort of target, but I didn't get kicked in the face like the skinny guys did.  It's something I didn't have to deal with a whole lot after becoming Yuan-Wei - I spent my time in good environments and the creeps just thought I was exotic and might be excited to fuck any white guy - but ever since people started in with that "China virus" shit, there have been a whole fucking lot more people yelling at my ass, and some of the worst are in the nice neighborhood where I live.  Like, Wuhan is as far from Hong Kong as L.A. is from Texas or something, but they don't even need to see me pull out some sort of ID that shows me as legally an immigrant to figure that I personally brought the virus here and my having a house is stage one of some communist conspiracy to kill all the white people and take over their country, but I guess these guys have always been rich white assholes and they are not handling the first time they've ever felt unsafe or restricted very fucking well at all.

They need a trip to the Inn, every fucking one of them.

I don't know if that would really change them, though.  Like, I always used to think that the last few years have really changed me, but seven months of mostly staying in has me wondering how much the stuff I thought was different really was.  Sure, I've got a clitoris which has a direct line of communication with my pleasure center, and I'm kind of at the point when whatever chemistry happens in your brain when you're around a guy with the right pheromones is starting to train me to find them attractive even from a photograph, but, shit, that's just chemistry.  I'm back to hanging around the house, working on a computer all day and then either shifting it to gaming mode or finding something on Netflix after that, pretty much like before I went to the Inn the first time.

It's starting to make me feel like I'm seeing a stranger in the mirror for the first time in a while, too.  Especially since I'm not really using that time to make the girl in the mirror into what I want from her, unless I know I'm going to have a video call with upper management or a client that day.  The rest of the time, there's no point in makeup, and I'll just slip into a t-shirt and either some loose shorts or some leggings, and flip-flops for shoes.  I haven't worn heels in long enough that I went to the closet and made sure I could still walk in them while writing this.  A lot of my female co-workers have said that they're not looking forward to having to wear bras again when this is all over, but I'm not quite with them on that; my tits are just big enough that it stops being fun after a few hours.

I haven't quite eating too much or stopped doing yoga, and I've even started swimming a bit in the little slice of ocean I've got behind my house on occasion because I do like seeing a narrow waist in the mirror, but it's an effort and between that and my period, I'm starting to wonder what the point of being Yuan-Wei is if I don't get to hang out and be with other people.  It seems to be a whole lot more fucking work just to be the person I used to be!

And it makes me wonder how much this Inn stuff really becomes normal.  Annette and I have talked about how we're not like "regular" trans people because we figure that the part of our brain that determines gender identity also gets changed by the spell, and we just have to catch up the same way we do with who we're attracted to, but I'm starting to wonder if I ever really accepted being a woman, or if it just seemed like an okay trade-off to having a chance to go back to college and be popular and have lots of sex this time, even if it was the other kind.  Now, though, I'm starting to wonder if I'm actually comfortable with being a girl, or if I just like being attractive and popular.

-Jordo

Val: Long stories short

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I added, it's more fun, too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then something crazy happened.

We talked it out.

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

I was falling in love.

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

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

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

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

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

Love and peace

Valerie

Steven-Shona: Hit hard

Georgia was one of the states hit hardest by the pandemic (51K cases in a state of 11 Mil, aka 5% of everyone who lives here) largely thanks to what I would characterize as insanely poor leadership, but I did not come here to get political. Only to talk about the toll it has taken on on me - as the floor manager of a Big Box store, I have spent the last two months in the trenches as people fought for the last scrap of toilet paper, water, and for some reason flour (you all people know you can buy bread, right?)

We're through the worst of it now, although unfortunately that has led the news cycle to focus on even more harrowing things, but in March and April things got way worse than I ever expected when I took this job. "Lower management at a superstore? I have an MSc from Georgia Tech." Little did I know more lives would seemingly depend on me while I'm wearing a gray polo than when I wore a lab coat.

I saw the worst in people. Frenzy, panic, frustration, abuse heaped on our underpaid and overworked employees, many of whom took this job as an after-school position because they're, you know, teens. Entitlement, ignorance, and outright flouting of the rules as time went on, as if this disease weren't taking more and more people into the hospital for two months, many of whom never came out - and a lot of whom never made it there in the first place.

I don't want to harp because we're past it now and things have moved on, but I saw awful things. I saw 15-year-old girls spat on for trying to enforce the posted limit of certain items per customer. I saw one of my brightest workers, an honors student, shoved down and nearly trampled. I've seen disadvantaged folks and seniors not being able to get things they need because - and there "ain't no rule" - the same wealthy people come back day after day to scoop up what they want. It hurt, and many days I would just go home and hold my head in my freshly-washed hands and hold back tears.

Amidst all of this, three things happened that have changed the trajectory of my life.

One was a chance encounter with an old classmate of mine from high school. Ricky West. Ricky was practically the king of the school, or at least the prince. He was an offensive first-stringer on the football team, was in homecoming and prom court, married a teen pageant queen from our school at 18. All the guys envied him. The worst part is you couldn't even really hate him because he was humble and kind, and not that dumb - no genius but not dumb.

So when I saw him in the liquor aisle of the store, still looking just like an older, more tired and potbellied version of the handsome guy from high school, I momentarily forgot myself and gave him a smile - "Heya Rick!" Oop. The moment it came out of my mouth I remembered - not Steven. And Shona didn't grow up around here.

So as expected, he looked at me sideways. "I know you?"

"Oh uh, not personally, but we have friends in common. I'm Shona. I... used to date Steven Blassie."

He scratched his chin. "Oh, uh... yeah, him." I could tell he only dimly remembered me, if at all. Saying we had "mutual friends" was a big stretch but not a total lie.

He looked rough, his hair unkempt, unshaved, and like maybe he wasn't sleeping good. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Well, I don't really drink, but uh... that whisky is looking real good."

"Tennessee's finest," I said.

"I uh... I just got laid off. Been with that company for eight years. It took them a week into the pandemic to decide I wasn't worth paying."

"I'm sorry to hear that," I said. "You're just gonna drown your sorrows?" He looked rough, like maybe he was on his way to rock bottom.

"Don't have much of a choice. Nobody's hiring."

"Well, we happen to need some help on the loading dock - these are really tough times you know. Why don't I get you an application?"

He backed off. "Hey, I don't want any charity..."

"It's not charity," I said, "We need help. And I can't give you anything except an interview. You have to get yourself the job."

He stepped forward and went to hug me, but I backed off - "Woah, pandemic remember?"

He turned red. "Oh yeah. Sorry about that."

Well, he did get the job. And he was good at it. Nice guy, friendly, hard worker, lively conversation. And I think he always had a lot of gratitude to me for reaching out because he always made sure to talk with me, check in on me if I maybe needed help or someone to vent to. He became somebody I actively looked forward to seeing during my day, probably because it felt so good to be on friendly terms with the prince of high school, even if those days were long past.

And I was the same for him. He was working long hours and it led to a lot of disagreements with his wife, and he felt like, he's out here trying to put food on the table and why can't she just accept that? And I said that being a woman doesn't mean I understand them, and he laughed.

And then one night, after yet another stressful day, it was just him and me finishing up some receiving and paperwork, and we're talking about what we're going to do when we got home - which was not much since it was nearly 11. Then he said we might as well sleep here and I said yeah, let's make a bed out of toilet paper.

And then he kissed me.

And I didn't stop it. I didn't know how to react in the moment. It felt right even though he's married and I'm not who I look like. In that moment it felt good to be wanted by somebody, and extra good for it to be him. As Shona - being as big as I am - a lot of men don't look at me as a sex object, and the ones that do think I should feel lucky that they do, not realizing I don't want their attention or care. But this guy... he has a beautiful wife at home and we struck up a bond that felt real and... well, my head was spinning.

I had a split second to decide what happened next and... I had sex with him, right there on the loading dock floor.

I'm not proud of it, and it has been weighing on my conscience ever since, but in the moment I needed the release badly, both because of how overworked and stressed I was, and because I thought the opportunity would never present itself again, and because of... the second of the other two things I have yet to explain.

In March - not long after the pandemic started and Ricky was hired - I received a letter from Shona. It read in part:

"Dear Steven,

It has come to my attention that for the past several months you have been inhabiting my former body and living as me. Please know that this was in no way my intended or hoped for outcome, even when I learned that the Trading Post Inn had transformed me into a new person. But I'll admit it is not the worst outcome in my eyes. I was so afraid that whoever got that body would hate it, disrespect it, resent it or harm it. and i know you would do none of those things. You had always claimed to love how I was, and I hope you are capable of bringing that same energy to the challenge of being me.

I had made my peace with the physical fact of my body since I was 14, with how it was to me and how the world treated me. But I never made peace with being me.

I felt guilty for accepting your love because I never felt the same way. I did not love you the way you loved me, but i did my best to convince myself to try. You are a good man and treated me well, and it's nobody's fault those feelings aren't there on my side. I stayed with you so long because I felt you were the best I could do, that I could never hoped to be loved more than you loved me, and never hope to find someone I loved that way too.

I am so sorry to tell you this, especially under these circumstances.

My friend Reby, who knew of the Inn's magic, and knew of my inner conflict, took it on herself to arrange the trip for me. I resent that, but I know that if she could have explained it beforehand - if I could imagine it were real - I would have agreed. This is what I want.

I will always remember you fondly.

-Sho"

This was accompanied by pages of directives on how best to live as her and other notes, some of which would have been very helpful months ago.

To learn, this far in, that the woman I devoted my life to, whose legacy I now proudly wore, was lying to me for years about her feelings, felt she was settling for me and never truly loved me, destroyed me. I carried that with me, privately, for weeks, trying to suppress the hurt and confusion as I navigated the high pressures of the pandemic world, until finally it exploded that night with Ricky and we both made a major mistake.

FWIW - It's completely immaterial whether the sex was any good because it was so WRONG to do, but I do have thoughts that I would like to share someday in a more appropriate venue, and maybe when I have more "data." Which may never happen, or it may.

I spent days afterward feeling completely ashamed, unable to look him in the eye, and he seemed ashamed too since it took days for us to work up the nerve to look at each other again. In his case, he let me know that he was feeling bad about it, and how he was going through so much and I said clearly, it was a mistake we both made - nothing excused it (although he desperately seemed to want to justify it by talking about issues in his marriage, which... get those sorted out yourself.) I said it would be best to just pretend it never happened and he said it would try.

"I just want my friend back," I said. He seemed to agree.

Then he muttered something about asking whether there were any "loose ends" that needed to be tied up. I did a double take at that but realized what he was saying. I had opted to take a morning-after pill the next day because being that it had happened so fast neither of us had any contraceptive handy and didn't exactly stop to ask questions in the moment (if we had, we probably would have come to our senses.)

That brings us to the last thing that happened, in April. I was notified that, due to COVID-19 causing all out-of-state travel to be cancelled, my reservation to the Inn would be refunded and I would have to re-book for a later date.

I was unsure exactly what this meant but I could feel safe in assuming that, since I was relying on going there at a certain time to recoup my body, that whenever I did end up getting there, my body would no longer be available.

Not knowing exactly how the Inn works, only having what I've read on this blog as "evidence" it seems like I have completely lost my chance to become Steven in body again. Perhaps ever. How long will it take for the Inn to find someone to transform into me? Has it already happened? Is there some kind of holding pattern for when there is less than enough people to trigger the change, or can it only stay dormant for so long before it just... randomly starts assigning bodies? I guess we'll have to watch the news out of Old Orchard Beach for that but I doubt the local Bangor CBS Affiliate covers body swapping.

Damn it. Damn it all. Honestly after Shona sent me her letter telling me she would never be herself again, it's not like I thought that was my cue to stay as her - it was still not a life I wanted to lead for myself, even if I wanted to ensure that her body was respected per her wishes. I was too hurt by what she had said about our relationship. Honestly, I hoped I could go back to being myself and abandon this body to fate, out of spite and hurt a little bit. But now... well, if I ever get back to Maine, why should I bother? Why leap into the great unknown when history has shown that I would probably just end up someplace worse, still female, probably not as free as this?

So... am I Shona forever?

I honestly don't know. I feel lost.

-Former Steven

Daryl/Magda: This Goddamn Week

If you're reading this sometime in the future, not really remembering what 2020 was like, here's a reminder:  There's been a pandemic that has shut down and disrupted every facet of our lives, not nearly enough was done to mitigate it, and just as America in general was starting to "open up" too early, video a couple of black men being killed by white people ostensibly enforcing the law was everywhere you went on the internet and the protests became riots, in large part because of police overreaction and, from what I can see, because of people going out of their way to stir shit up because they know that any trouble will come back on black protesters.  It's been fucking insane.

I'd like to tell you that I've been using the fact that I look like a pretty well-preserved white woman to make a difference, putting myself between cops and protesters when I know shit is about to go down, but I haven't, and I hope like hell that it means I haven't lost touch with who I really am.  It's doubly concerning because I've been calling "Junah" and Jenn (and her ersatz family) to make sure that they're staying safe and feeling kind of proud that the conversations with the former feel really authentic.  He's not an older lady playing at being a young black man, or incensed that he's now more of a potential target in a way that he doesn't "deserve" because of how he started out.  He's not totally familiar with the nuances, but he gets it.

And maybe it's a measure of how much I've become this white woman that I'm more scared of the virus right now.  Between people not traveling and the airlines and airport doing what they can to enforce six-foot spaces, it could be a lot worse, but I do get people every day who are mad that I'm wearing a mask and cough or breathe heavy at you when they want to make some sort of point.  I've had several co-workers and friends come down with it - including one person I don't know very well who has died - and have had that swab stuck up my nose a couple of times.  Going out into a crowd, all that stuff going on...  I get that for some people like J.T., who have mostly been staying in for the past couple of months, this seems like not just a welcome but a righteous opportunity to hit the streets, but I can't help but think of the virus as the most dangerous part.

And to twist the knife just a little more...  Pete had found someone I could become.  31, African-American, female, she'd fallen into a good thing over the winter and was willing to say goodbye to her old life.  I haven't talked about it - or anything - on here because I didn't want to jinx it, but it was a chance to become a little more myself, maybe even start a family, except that the Inn being closed messed all that up and a part of me looks at the news and is glad that I don't have that to worry about.

Sorry for dumping all this, but if this blog isn't for the times when we don't know who we are, then what is it for?

-Magdaryl

Valerie: There goes the bride

For the past few months I have been thinking about what I would write if I came back to the blog. The world I left off in seems so different and alien, and while changes of lifestyle are nothing new to me, this is the first time everyone else has been along for the ride.

The coffee shop has been kept open for grab-and-go and mobile orders, but business is way down, which means shifts are way down, which means sitting on my butt at home like everyone else. You would think this gave me time to write, but living in an apartment with two other girls doesn't give me a ton of private time to collect my thoughts. I've started this post five times in the last month.

Indulge me for a sec while I go back to the Pre-Pandemic world to explain what things are like now.

The last thing that happened was on February 29. That was the day of Meg's wedding. To say I had mixed feelings about the situation would be putting it lightly. I'm not still in love with her or anything but I can hardly look at her without feeling a really complicated sense of loss, disappointment, resentment and guilt over how things ended between us and never resumed. I've accepted the situation but the feelings stubbornly wouldn't clear. I've been open about them, and she understands, and she wants my friendship, and I wanted hers. So, she said, her wedding wouldn't be complete without me there.

Besides, I thought. Things had fizzled with Rafe, maybe I would meet a guy.

Because I had just had my breast-reduction surgery, I needed a new dress that fit my body better. Most of what I liked from before can be taken in, but I'm definitely enough of a woman now that I will take an opportunity to buy something new and frilly when it pleases me. I brought Ariel along for advice because of the girls, she's the one whose fashion sense I most admire - kind of edgy, kind of modern, but also tuned into classic beauty looks. And I know she would never just tell me what I wanted to hear.

Ariel and I have bonded in a way I didn't with Maddie, who is a sweetheart, or Charli, who was cool. It's definitely because her coming out as bi and having her first female relationship with Charli reminded me, ironically, of transforming into a woman and starting to have relationships with men. In the past, I have told her about my past with Meg, and so she understood how this could be complicated for me, admiring that I was really dedicated to supporting my friend - as long as I wasn't there to start shit. I laughed that I wasn't there to start it, but if need be, I was always ready to finish it.

Somewhere in all this, I asked if Ariel would maybe want to come, since being alone would probably be a good way to do something stupid. I didn't even know how to broach that topic with Meg, but as luck would have it there was a last minute cancellation at the singles table, so as long as she didn't mind being "Frank Leoni" for the night, she was welcome.

We drove up to Vermont and checked into the hotel. I texted Meg to say "I hope this is better than the last time I stayed at a hotel in New England..." and she responded, "Haha, well, it could have been a lot worse." Looking down at myself, I thought yeah, I guess so. (Still hate being short though.)

We changed into our dresses. I was wearing a form-fitting black dress that accentuates my curves in a way I never got to when I had the giant boobs. I was stunned to find I really looked like I had a body. Ariel wore a light blue one that set well against her brown skin, and reminded me that my body is nothing compared to some other peoples.

Ari did my hair. She reflected on how she used to do her cousins' hair, and would be jealous, because they were white and their hair was so easy, and it took her years to not want it to go straight down like Michelle Obama's.

The wedding was tasteful and modern, with lots of quirky touches that I would expect from Meg, which goes right along with having the wedding on Leap Day anyway.

At the Reception, I was seated next to this guy Henry, a friend of Justin's. He was tall, with piercing blue eyes and a strong jaw. Very striking. He was good conversation, since like me he has lived in a lot of different places in the country.

Early in the night, the DJ announced a "Kissing Game" called "Show Them How It's Done" where couples go up to the bride and groom and kiss for them to prompt them to kiss - it's one of those things they do instead of clinking glasses because venues don't want you to do that anymore. It was cute seeing young couples kiss each other sheepishly, while the old couples full-on made out. After a few drinks, I was wanting to get in on the action.

"Hey Henry... feel like going up there?"

He stammered, "Uh... sure!"

I must have really intimidated the poor guy because he only barely gave me a faint peck. When we got back to the table, Ariel rolled her eyes.

Naturally, because it was her wedding day, I didn't get to spend much one-on-one time with Meg, but it was great to see her - bittersweet, but she looked beautiful and joyous, and even Justin cleaned up really nice. I mostly saw her on the dance floor, because as she was fond of telling me, since her knee was healed up, she had years of living to make up for. Which is all well and good but it hasn't taught her a thing because she dances even worse than I do.

When the dancing started, Henry was hard to drag out on the floor and moved stiffly, but was fun. Really, we were having a nice time and I was glad to have someone to forget my troubles with, but he had an early flight and left, giving me his number. I wasn't sure if I saw it going anywhere though..

Once that was over with, I was determined to keep having a good time, and so was Ari. We kicked off our heels and danced up a storm, pausing only for more drinks, photos, and to stuff ourselves all over again at the late night table. As the night went on, we got a little less shy about touching each other, holding each other, twerking on each other (well, she did the twerking, I did... some other awkward white girl move.) I got swept up in the moment and I didn't care.

More and more drinks were consumed and we got tired of indulging guys who wanted to cut in. We probably took it a little too far and made a spectacle of ourselves. It's not like we fell to the floor or anything, but our hands were all over each other, our eyes locked. Maybe it was just the liquor and the setting, but I was feeling things, things that I haven't felt in a very long time - not merely attraction, or interest in another person, but real hunger for them. Lust. Fire.

Eventually I just whispered in her ear "Hotel." And she nodded. We were already all over each other in the cab, tongues flecking in and out of each others' mouths, hands furiously finding breasts and hips and legs. I didn't have time to think how strange or different it all was, how unexpected - I was caught up in the moment, and I badly wanted to be.

We fumbled only a moment on the bed as we had to help each other out of our dresses, but as soon as we were it was the quickest acceleration I have felt in a very long time. We explored each other's naked bodies - which I was too excited to feel insecure about my still un-faded scars, and luckily the tenderness in my breasts was subsiding, because she really seemed to relish playing with them.

"I'm sorry they're not big anymore..." I muttered self-effacingly.

"Honey, they're perfect," Ari said to me. Then added, "And they're still bigger than mine."

It was... different, passionate, energetic. It was exciting to know we could go at a pace that women are comfortable with and not worry about the man's needs. After a bit, she said to me, "I brought something... just in case. I didn't think it would be you though."

"Show me," I said.

She went to her duffel and pulled it out. It was a... shall we say, wearable appendage. I welcomed it, let her use it on me for a while, before I decided it was my turn.

Guys.

Do you know how gratifying it is to have a woman say in the throes of passion "Wow, you really know how to use that thing!" And know she means it?

It was a little clumsy, and honestly, I'm not entirely sure I liked using it better than being on the other side, but it was an amazing, exciting night that left me abuzz. We fell into each other's arms.

Then in the morning we just kind of looked at each other in shock. The spell had somewhat worn off and I was really just embarrassed, although I couldn't explain to her why. She said she was starting to feel guilty about using me for a rebound after Charli left, and maybe taking advantage of my feelings at the wedding. I told her I had a part to play too, but my frustration was with myself. After all this time getting used to the idea of dating and making love to men - and actively enjoying it - why did sleeping with a woman feel like a failure, even thought it was an amazing night?

For over a year, I had been having these thoughts, that maybe I'm not 100% straight, ever since I met Maddie, but I pushed them aside as just surface thoughts, residual inklings of who I was and misplaced appreciation for other women. But what I felt that night sure as hell was real, at least for the moment.

We decided it looked like an awkward one-time-only thing, that we could forgive ourselves and move on. Given that we were roommates now, it might be for the best if we don't pursue. I was both relieved and disappointed - relieved because I was not sure I was up to dating women again, and disappointed because I really like Ariel, especially now, and was starting to feel like maybe we would actually be good together.

And then... in the midst of trying to put that behind us and get through all of it and live our lives... Covid hit New York City. Hard. And suddenly we were locked in together.

I'll tell you more about that later.

Love and kisses,

Val

Jonah/Krystle: Not Essential

I've been thinking I maybe should write something about the whole stay-at-home thing for the last month and a half, but it's been hard to get started.  It seems like I've got nothing but time now, but that's not the case.

As you might guess, I'm unemployed right now.  I'm technically "furloughed", which I guess means I've got a job waiting for me when the restaurant is back up to something closer to capacity, but that's not any kind of given itself.   To the extent that is still operating, it's because Ashlyn and Moira are working in the kitchen and making deliveries themselves without drawing a salary.   There ain't enough seats to have a bartender and two waitresses working I'd they open up at half capacity, so it'shard to put to much hope in that.

So I've been home, and on the one hand, Little Moira loves that.  We have a great time playing together, and reading.   She's only three, so she can't read yet, but she's got a lot of her favorites memorized, which is kind of amazing itself.  Momma Kamen and my folks say that neither of us were that into books at that age, but we were never locked down or anything like that.  It kind of males me worried that there's some of the man who knocked me up in her, but nobody who knows thinks it works that way.

She misses her cousins, though, and her friends from the park, and it's hard to explain to her that we can only talk to them on the laptop, especially since Momma Kamen still goes to work, if not for quote so many shifts.  It seems backward to me, because she's in her fifties and probably had more that makes her vulnerable than I do, but the MBTA obviously can't just let me take her job.  It means she does all the errands before and after work, so there's really not much reason for me to go out at all.

And I'm lucky in that way, I guess.  Karla is calling to check in on her mother fairly often, and her kids are sad about not being able to see their grandmother, plus all the drama that comes with their fathers in a time like this.  My own folks are keeping in touch a little more often, but the question of going to stay with them is something we kind of dance around.  There aren't any cases in their town, and someone coming from the big city to visit would be an issue.

And I guess I'm lucky, in a way, that I've accepted this as my life.  Hotels aren't opening in Maine until June at least, and there are some people who probably thought they were getting their lives back this weekend.

Anyway, just wanted anyone I haven't been keeping in touch with off the blog to know I'm okay.

-Jonah/Krystle

Val: Under the knife

Around the holidays things started to get weird between me and Rafe. It can be a very sentimental time, even though neither of us are sentimental people, and it's hard not to succumb to the urge a little and behave a certain way.  Something about holiday cheer and togetherness makes it hard to just enjoy casual sex for what it is.

Around New Years Eve we found ourselves having an obligatory "What are we?" Conversation. Are we exclusive? No, but neither of us is seeing anyone else. Do we go out on dates? I said it would be acceptable but he said it was outside his comfort zone (to put it mildly.) In my head I had echoes of someone or other saying "Why buy the cow..." even though I didn't even grow up as a woman. I had to field awkward dating questions from Valerie's mother over the holidays, and deflected by saying I was out there, and that's all. It deepened the already sour feeling in the pit of my stomach whenever I spend time with that family.

In January I decided, kinda unilaterally, to downplay my thing with Rafe. Call it a Resolution if you must. It had been a few months of great sex with someone who wasn't interested in more. Why not look again?

Instead, online I found the usual collection of way-too-self-absorbed boy-men in suits who think all women are impressed by a decent suit and a nice car (in this city? Please.)

It was a lot like last year's round of boredom-inducing matchups, only this time I actually had sex with a few of them. None of them had much potential for long term, but I wanted the experience. Whereas before I avoided sex because I didn't want to feel used, now I embrace it because I wanted to do the using.

I think I have screwed myself up because I can only bring myself to sleep with a guy if I dislike him now. I know I should respect my body enough not to just let anyone have it, but I also respect it enough to give it things that will feel good, at least for the night. But if I think I have feelings for a guy? I dare not complicate it with sex.

Besides, I was worried they wouldn't want me soon. At the end of January I did something I have been dreaming about for years... having my breast reduction surgery.

Having boobs of any kind is great about 10% of the time. Times when you want the attention they bring. Times when you are wearing something flattering but not uncomfortable. Times when you are literally naked, on top or below (or in front of) someone and feeling them bounce up and down and against your ribcage in response to something very pleasurable. The rest of the time they are a frightful inconvenience, and when they are 8% of your overall body weight (I did the math!) they are a literal pain.

I had made up my mind months ago and went through a battery of consultations and examinations. Recieving healthcare as a woman in this country is not overall simple of convenient but my doctor - a man - acknowledged that on my frame, these breasts are too much by a lot.

Before the surgery, I texted both Kevin and Rafe, the men in my life who I had kept at arms length of weeks or months. Kevin wished me well, Rafe didn't respond right away. I also texted my sister and Meg, and of course Maddie and Ariel knew - who has taken Charli's old room and made a really good late night talking partner since both of us are effectively single.

Before they put me under, the Doctor said something to the effect of "Just think, when you wake up, you'll have a whole new different body." I probably laughed way too hard, involuntarily, and confused him.

Then they wheeled me in, put me under, and that was that.

Afterward, as I woke up, in my groggy state, my first thought was to grab for them. I think I thought I was back to the Inn because Maddie recalled me babbling about "Am I me? Am I me?" Before long, I came to and had a chance to examine.

It was amazing. The scars are barely noticeable. They're still pretty big actually, but much, much smaller than before. I might actually be able to shop in regular places for tops and bras. Wear sundresses. Jog. See my feet. They're reshaped into perfectly symmetrical orbs. Almost too perfect. It bugs me how I've lost a certain natural appearance. I don't want people to think I have fake boobz (I did get a lot of "are those real?" questions from creepy guys online, but mostly people assume rightly that at this size, you wouldn't pay to put those on your chest.)

Part of me was excited - I looked great. I felt free. Part of me was sad, as I worried I might be - I had lost something that had come to be a part of me, as frustrating and inconvenient and painful as they could be. Never in all my years of wandering as Tyler or drifting from life to life via the Inn had I felt so attached to anything, let alone body parts I wasn't even born with. I worried about not being appreciative of the body I had inherited, but Cynthia has told me this was a dream of hers too.

It's like being a new me (something I'm real familiar with) with the losses and gains that implies, but I get to keep being me, which is exciting.

Once I got back into street clothes, Maddie and Ariel were gobsmacked. It was so different and yet it looked so rigbt. They were very supportive and very complimentary. They got me a card and pampered me while I recuperated.

Rafe eventually did text me back, saying that he was happy for me, in a weirdly brief manner. But that's him.

One other reason for the timing... Meg's wedding is coming up. And I wanted it all out of the way so I could wear a nice dress and feel good about myself because the only person I ever really loved is getting married and I need to be there to support her.

If it ain't too obvious to say, I really do feel a weight off my shoulders. I had been hemming and hawing so long, and now it's done and I don't regret it.

I'm a happy gal.

-Valerie

Steven as Shona: Call me crazy

Stir crazy that is. All I do is go to work at a big box store, eat and sleep. I'm not enriching my life in any particular way, or the world. At least when I was the Ice Cream Man, I was something.

I am not a social butterfly by nature and being Shona has not changed that. She has friends but they never really got along with me, so as long as I am wearing her life they are somewhat persona non grata. Thst leaves my work acquaintances. Most of the girls... maybe they don't see me as one of their own because, well, it could be a lot of things. I never learned how to break the ice with females and just being one hasn't made it easier. Most of the women who work with me are older, younger, or moms. We don't share the same worldview or interests... the ones whose lives most closely resemble mine are the ex pep squadders in cosmetics and I don't have much common ground with them besides our biological gender. Similarly, none of the guys know what to make of me because they see me as a woman, but not as a potential sex partner, so I'm just nothing. I can't even be "one of the guys" because I was never that to begin with - I had to google who was in the Superbowl when I found myself invited to the work Superbowl party.

I went just because what else was I going to do on a random Sunday night? I did find it fun, and wound up talking to Kenny more than anyone. Kenny didn't know Shona well, but he did know me. So it's been interesting getting to know him all over again from this angle.

He confided to me, later, he had a crush on one of the makeup girls, Allie. I counseled maybe he should look elsewhere - Allie is model thin and kind of dumb and if I'm being honest, self absorbed. I guess I'm forgetting what kind of effect a nice pair of breasts and a thin waist can have on a certain type of man. He's hoping I can do something to get that set up, but that would require me to strike up a relationship of my own with her, which seems intimidating and pointless.

Still, he's a friend and he deserves happiness. I'd like to help. I just wish he would look somewhere else for it.

Valerie: Holidazed

The Holidays saw me running ragged. Not only did I have to do as much as I could to spend time with "my family" - that is, Val's family, which is, you know, my family now, seemingly everyone from my past wanted to crop back up all of a sudden.

It started when Dylan's parents said they were considering visiting New York, and wanted to know if I was still living there and wanted to see my former "kid." I was struck - It feels like multiple lifetimes ago that I was Judith, and being reminded of it brought up unexpected emotions. Echoes of the guilt I felt about whether I was a good parent, nostalgia for having that kiddo in my life, the fraught nature of my relationship with Kitty. I have enough baggage as Valerie now, it's hard to even think of stuff from when I was that person.

But since it came up, I became very excited about the possibility of seeing him. I told his parents to bring him to the subway near my apartment - it would be best if my roomies didn't see any of this - and I could show him around Manhattan for a day.

Dylan arrived with his mom. She put on a friendly, but neutral, face, as we shook hands. I asked how she had been.

"Not bad, all things considered," she sighed, "It's been a long few years. Lots of adjusting. I can't say I'm happy with the way things worked out, but going back to my old body is just... not happening. So this is it for me, and we make the best of it."

"Right," I nodded. I had forgotten that Dylan's parents wound up getting switched, and I supposed their aversion to the Inn made them decide never to try to go back. It would be a lot to expect everyone to thrive this way, I guess, but I hope s/he doesn't bring too much bitterness home. She gave me a few ground rules then went off back to the hotel.

Dylan smiled when he saw me, and stooped down to give me a big hug. "Woah!" he said, "I mean, I've seen pictures, but I totally forgot you look like this now. I still think of you as... well... when you were Judith I could sometimes tell you were a guy in there. But now...?"

"Yeah, yeah," I said. "Well, let's get over our shock. This is me, and yes, I do think of myself as a woman, but I'm still me."

"That's great," he said, "So cool. You know, the kids at my school are just now starting to learn about LGBTQ and gender identity and stuff. It sucks that I can't tell them what I've lived through."

"Yeah, sometimes you really do wish you could explain it to people," I sighed. "By the way, holy crap you got tall. I mean, I got short, but you got tall."

Dylan is 15 now, and stands 6' tall. He told me about his love for basketball, and his other hobbies - he writes now, and does a little bit of music. He played me some stuff off his Soundcloud - not really my thing, but not bad.

We went to some markets, saw the Museum of Natural History, and hit up one of my favorite lunch spots. There was the inevitable moment where I had to take my coat off and he glanced at my chest, but he tried to play it cool and generally kept his eyes north. I get it, they're impressive. For what it's worth, I was wesring a loose sweater, not something that invites attention, but thry do a good enough job of that o their own.

He told me he reads the blog, which makes me a little embarrassed considering most of what I post here is about my sex life.

After lunch, we walked around some more and he told me about his girlfriend.

"It was weird you know. For a long time after I went back, it was like... what am I? I wasn't that into girls before I became one, and by the time I was done being Livie, I kind of did like boys. It took me a long time to sort out... until I met Theresa. Then it was instant."

"I'm happy for you," I said warmly.

He went on, "My parents are worried that hanging out with you is going to make me want to go back to the Inn, because of what you said."

I raised an eyebrow. "Oh really?" I remembered what I said - that someday when he was 18 if he still wanted to, that would be his choice.

"It's tempting," he said. "There was a time I went to bed every night thinking I was gonna be a girl for the rest of my life. I look at Theresa and I see what that would've been like
 Sometimes I get jealous because she's so beautiful. But I'm lucky because I get to be with her."

"So, no going back then," I said, hopefully.

"I don't know. I'm still young. Who knows what I'll want. I'm happy now. But I also know that going back and becoming something else isn't a death sentence."

"Tell that to your dad-- er, mom. Neil."

Dylan snickered. "He's just playing. He thinks if someone like you finds out he doesn't hate being a woman, it's like he lost or something. But he's a lot more like you than he wants to admit. Honestly, I think my mom's almost got him convinced to try for another kid."

"Woahhh," I said, "Now that's a subject I don't need to hear about."

In the end, I told him, that's what the real world is, what every person walking the Earth has to face in one way or another - how much is sucks to feel stuck, but how good it feels to put down roots in the end.

He took this advice in, and reflected on it, then said one more thing. "I'm glad I never got a period."

I wrapped my arm around him. "Be grateful."

For the rest of the holidays, I sleepwalked through some time with "My" Family, and then our little group faced a shakeup as Charli left New York for Brooklyn. Maddie's on-again-off-again boyfriend moved in, which left me feeling crowded and wondering if it's time for me to make a change. I had a pretty interesting year but I was ready for it to end.

More soon

-Val

Val: On Trial

A little after it came out that I was back to seeing Rafe casually, I was called into the common area for a serious talk.

My roommates - Maddie, Charli, and Ariel, were putting me "on trial." It's a thing we do when one of us does something the others don't like. Sometimes it's for stupid things like getting a bad haircut, and sometimes it's... a little more dramatic than that.

I wasn't surprised, but I was a little irritated. Yes, we all know that Rafe is not the best possible person for me to be with. He's crass and annoying, immature and directionless. Sometimes that irritates me, and sometimes I'm sympathetic because I kind of see some of myself in him.

The charge: That I'm selling myself short by dating someone there's no future with. That I'm hurting myself and others by letting him have me whenever he wants without expecting much in return.

My defense: I'm a grown woman and I went into this with open eyes, and it's honestly prudish to say a woman can't enjoy casual sex without feeling like she's being taken advantage of.

Plus, he's not a bad guy. He's smart, he makes me laugh, and, let's not be modest here, he's a great lay.

Do I see myself settling down with him? No, of course not. But fate put me back into my mid-20's, biologically speaking - do I need to be with my soulmate right now? If so, where is he?

He and I know the deal. No commitment, no strings attached. We're honest about what we're doing. Last time, I got antsy because I was craving an emotional relationship he couldn't offer, plus I thought I was going back to the Inn. I had a year of solitude to see if I could make that emotional relationship, and... nothing.

Well, not nothing.

See, that was a big part of Maddie's case against, as she led the prosecution. She felt like I was short-changing Kevin, and that I had cut off any progress we were making toward true coupledom by dividing my attention between him and Rafe. Maddie "ships" me with Kevin.

I told her it wasn't going to happen - Kevin was a rock I couldn't budge. I put all my best moves on him and he never seemed to see me as more than a companion. Nothing I was doing with Rafe violated that arrangement or gave me any reason to feel bad.

"Okay then," she said. "Then why don't you talk to  Kevin about it?"

That made me nervous.

Kevin knows that sometimes I'm not available, or that sometimes I have to hurry home for something, but I have never specified that it's so that I can sleep with another guy. I don't really think it's any of his business and he's never indicated to me that it would bother him. And yet, the idea of bringing it up to him did seem very... heavy.

I told him the next time I was over there. I was making risotto and he was watching, giving me those gooey eyes that, in another person would normally mean "I want to jump your bones right now." The guilt was gnawing at me.

"So..." I said as I stirred, "I think you should know I'm kind of seeing someone."

His gaze didn't break. A long pregnant pause held in the air.

"Go on..." he said, his voice hard to read the way men sometimes are.

"Well, it's not serious," I stammered nervously, "But, it's been a while. And I just didn't think to tell you because, well.. it's kind of private and I... wasn't sure what to say."

"Well," he twisted his lips, "You could say, 'So I'm kind of seeing someone.'"

"I mean, you and I are just... friends, right? You don't see me that way, do you?"

The answer took longer to give than I was comfortable with.

I started to say, "I man, you told me--"

"Yeah, yeah," he interrupted, "No, I know. It's fine," he said, in a tone that suggested maybe it's not fine.

"You and I have a really special friendship," I said, cringing inside at what I was babbling, "It was just obvious it wasn't anything... more than that."

"Yeah," he said, and got real quiet, and for a while I wondered if he was mad at me. I wanted to keep talking but I couldn't think of anything to say that didn't sound stupid.

Eventually, the food was done cooking. "Um hey," I said awkwardly, "Can you get some plates down for us?"

He snapped out of his trance. "Oh, yeah, of course. Sorry, I know my kitchen is built for people over 5 feet tall."

"Yeah, I'm used to it," I shrugged.

He set our places, and before the silence crept back in, he said, "I'm happy for you."

"Huh?"

"That's what friends say, isn't it?"

"Only if they mean it."

He smiled, "I'm happy for you. I'm mad for myself, because you deserve... well, anything you want. Things haven't changed for me, Val. I mean,in some ways they have, because I could picture... you know. Maybe. Someday. I didn't want you to wait for me, though. I wish it could be me, but... it's not."

I didn't know how to respond to that.

Another long silence was brewing, when he asked, "So when you say it's not serious..."

"You really want to know?"

"I'm your friend, aren't I?"

"Well," I said, "It's really just sex. Sometimes breakfast. One or two dinners. I don't do this sort of thing with him."

"That's good to hear. You ever go ice skating with him?"

"I told you, I can't skate. I'll fall over," I laughed, referring to a previous conversation we had about going to Rockefeller Center together.

"I'll believe it when I see it," he snickered. "So, this guy..."

"We have a good vibe, but he's not boyfriend material. Plus, we work together, so I don't really feel the need to see that much more of him."

"You should quit," he said, apropos nothing.

"And do what?"

"Whatever you're going to do," he said. "You're gonna pour coffee the rest of your life?"

"Well, I was planning on marrying a rich single dad but that didn't work out," I snorted.

Unamused, he pressed on. "I'm serious. Quit your job. Take a business course. Open your own shop. Do more catering. Whatever you want. Please, you'll feel so much more rewarded."

"I... don't think I can," I sighed. "I have no money."

"And you never will at this rate," he scolded. "Weren't you saying you're about to spend thousands of dollars on plastic surgery?"

"Breast reduction surgery. I need it."

"Why not put that off and put that money towards some college courses?"

"Because I'd rather be physically comfortable and broke," I scoffed.

"I'll pay," he said. "Let me help you."

"The last thing I need is a white knight," I said. "Just let me live my life, okay?"

"Fine, no problem," he said.

I grew frustrated inside. He wasn't saying anything I didn't already think, but only I get to think those things. Ill quit the coffee shop when I'm good and ready. When I know what I want. It used to be, I would go from place to place and never think about the future. It was freeing, but I don't want to be that way anymore, so I don't want to quit on a whim only to decide I don't want to run my own business or go to school. And I definitely don't want to be told what to do by a guy I'm not even dating.

Part of me thinks I was just being sensitive - which bugs me because that makes me think this is a product of my gender and not how I am really supposed to be feeling. But God knows there was plenty of folks who thought they knew what was best for me when I was a man, and I didn't listen then either, it just bugged me less. So if my feelings about it have changed, well, that's all part of how I've changed overall. And I've accepted that, so watch out world.

That was back before Christmas. A lot has happened so I'm just getting around to describing it now. But it really affected our relationship. We don't see each other as much, barely text. Oir friendsgip really took a hit and I don't know if we can come back from it. I miss him, but it seems like things just ran their course. That makes me sad, but like he said, I shouldn't have been waiting for him.

-Val

Steven as Shona: Okay, perhaps I'm a little cursed

The trick with this "curse" is that you can't just sit around and do nothing, even under the guise that you are "making observations" about your "new life." It doesn't do much good to try that if you're not actually living any kind of life. A person still has to eat.

Shone is a wonderful person but she wanted different things out of life from me. I was career focused, getting my Masters and working in a lab. She wanted other things, leaving her not really qualified for anything I wanted to do with myself.

Being female, I can handle. Weighing over 300 Lbs is only a marginal drawback. Having to work in Global-Mart Superstore? That's where I truly feel cursed.

Okay, I don't have to work at Global-Mart, I'm not an indentured slave, but I was running out of options. I have a friend, Kenny, who manages one. I e-mailed him to let him know that my "friend" was looking for work, and he agreed to interview me.

I made sure to pay special attention to my appearance that day. I know it's only a low-paying retail job, but I needed it, and honestly, going into an interview looking the way I normally do, might put me at a disadvantage. I hadn't had much reason, opportunity or desire to learn how to be "feminine" these past few months. My hair was a little stringy and greasy, my skin pale. These are things that I'm okay with, but I know that success is largely image based, especially for women. I went to the hair dresser  got my make-up done at the cosmetics counter, which was an excruciating experience. I also wore a very supportive bra and a top that highlighted my cleavage, because I felt it couldn't hurt.

Before I knew it, Kenny and I were chatting like we were just old friends - because, I suppose, that was what we are, even if he didn't know it. I told him that "Steven" had really talked him up as a good friend, relating some of our old stories (in a way that flattered him.) We were so busy laughing it barely felt like an interview. I got the job.

The job itself is menial and far below me, but such is my "curse." It's not glamorous and sometimes I worry that there is far too much pressure for such a go-nowhere position but it pays the bills, as they say, and gets me out of the house.

The women are the store have been good. I'll admit, I've never been very good with women so it was hard to bring myself to talk to them at first, but when they all started flocking toward me like they already knew me I felt very welcome. It dawned on me later that I didn't have to worry about impressing them, since sex and romance were out of the question, I could just be myself and they would accept it. Even if I don't seem like a "normal" woman, there's no reason "a" woman couldn't say or do the things that I do, like express a preference for Deep Space Nine over The Next Generation, or try to explain the nuances in recent academic studies of generational biological mutation as they relate to allergies.

The guys don't seem to have much interest in me. Every time I try to talk to them they brush me off. Even Kenny seems to keep his distance, although he's the manager, so it's not like we run into each other a lot, which sucks because I thought he and "Shona" had something of a bond based on our interview.

So that's my curse, and I'm sorry it's not as dramatic as some others. Yes, I menstruate, and yet I have broken one or two chairs, but not being able to use my mind to work has been the worst part.

Well, that any not knowing where the real Shona is. I lie up at night worrying.Having to see her face every day as a reminder... well, it's enough to make one stop using mirrors.

Except, haha, I can't, because I started wearing lipstick and now I feel like I will be shunned if I stop.

Jonah/Krystle: I Didn't Even Do Anything!

I was so excited about Thanksgiving.  It had been a long time, I think, but I was finally going to meet Calvin's parents.  I'm not sure how long that usually takes - my only real previous experience dating was in high school and everyone kind of knows everyone in that town - but given that he met Momma Kamen and Karla pretty quickly, it sure seemed like we were lagging behind on that count.  I know we're more local, and I never had the feeling that he had to tiptoe around me being black or having a kid, so maybe it wasn't anything important.

I did make sure I packed the sort of dress I could wear to church, though, and spent more time on what shoes to bring than I ever thought I would as a kid.  Even shoes with just a couple inches of heel take up space in a suitcase!  I almost considered a perm or pulling out the wig I inherited, but, nah.  They're going to have to get to know the real me soon enough.  I get Moira bundled up and we head to Calvin's apartment.

He doesn't say anything when we ring the bell, just buzzes us up, which isn't the usual but not weird enough to notice.  I do notice that the TV's on and he's not already in his coat, and ask if we're early.

"No, Kiki, you're right on time."

I do that thing where you pull your head back in confusion.  "What's with the new nickname?  Is that how you've been referring to me when talking to your folks or something?"

"You know what it is."  I must still look confused, because he hits a button on his remote, and then a video starts playing.  I recognize his friend Big Stu and a couple of other folks from that guy's Halloween party, but I can't really see where they are until someone says to put your hands together for Kinky Kiki, the phone swims around to capture a stage with a pole, and just as I realize what's about to happen, the original Krystle struts out in a sexy schoolgirl outfit while that old "Hot For Teacher" song plays.

I quickly move my attention to my daughter.  "Moira, go in the kitchen and play!"

Her eyes are glued to the screen.  "Mommy..."

"That's right, Moira, that's your Mommy."

I've barely got time to shoot Calvin a dirty look before squatting down and turning my daughter away from the TV, then unlocking my phone and giving it to her with one of her favorite games opened.  "Moira, go play.  This is grown-up stuff."  She looks upset, but does it, dragging her feet.

I'm furious as I turn to Calvin, nothing on my mind but why he would want to embarrass me like that in front of my daughter.  I'm about to ask that very question when he says that this is his favorite part.

Apparently this was Stu's friend Ned's bachelor party, and Krystle is leaning over, pushing her breasts right into the groom-to-be's face, her blouse already on the floor.  Someone is sticking a five-dollar bill into her bra, and she's licking her lips.

In that moment, I can't imagine how Calvin thinks that's me.  I don't think I've ever had that expression on my face, her arms are skinny, she's got no abs, her breasts haven't been through nursing, her hair is straight and she's wearing a ton of makeup, and even when I've got heels on, my butt doesn't do what hers is doing as she walks.  I actually say "that's not me", not loud, but to myself, the way I used to when looking in the mirror.

Calvin doesn't get that, of course.  "Of course it's you!  Stu thought he recognized you right away but wasn't sure until he remembered the video, which he sent to me with a giant thumbs-up."  He crosses his arms and glares at me, although his eyes are also dating to the screen where Krystle is twerking in her pleated skirt.

I take a deep breath and try to center myself.  It's been a while since I really had to worry about Krystle's history, but I used to, and I'm not a scared kid anymore.  "Okay," I say, "I used to do that.  It's not like I wasn't ever going to tell you, it's just, you know, not the sort of thing that comes up in everyday conversation.  It's not me, you know, any more."  I smile nervously, hoping this is where he sees how embarrassed I am and forgives me this little white lie.

It is not.  If anything, he looks angrier.

"I think it is.  I think you've just been leading me on because you accidentally wound up with a kid and you think I'm stepdad material."

"What?  No!  I mean, you are stepdad material, and we probably wouldn't still be going out if you weren't, but that's just something you think about when you've got a daughter, you know?"

"Drop the act!"

"What act?  This is me!  That on the video is the act!"  Well, maybe it wasn't at the time, but it sure would be now.

"Riiiiiiight.  You just somehow got bad at walking in heels and doing your makeup and everything by the time you met me.  And suddenly your father was part of your life until recently, and you'd always gone to church, and only had sex that one time you got knocked up!"

"I--"  All of that was true, which was why it was how I always talked about my life with him, but it was not true for the original Krystle.  "I wasn't pretending.  I can't explain it to you, but I wasn't pretending.  I woke up different one day, and I literally couldn't live like I had been.  You won't believe me, but I didn't know how to be that kind of girl."

"Just stop lying!  I wouldn't have cared that you used to strip, but this whole alternate reality you made to seduce me is sick!"

"I didn't try to seduce you!  We just met and liked each other!  Are you going to say I picked your pocket so that I could look all innocent returning your book to you?"

"That would explain a lot!"

"Are you kidding me with this?  Do you really think I saw you at the RMV and made an immediate plan to land the intern by pretending that I'm no good in bed?"  Sure, this made a lot more sense than what really happened, but it sounded stupid too!

And I was just angry, too angry to be smart.  Everyone else I know who has been someone else for over four years seems like they've figured out how to make some explanation up for this on the fly, but I haven't.  Plus, I was being called some sort of scheming, deceptive woman for actually being as honest as I could with him, and it just made me angry.

Plus, the whole thing got kind of, I don't know, gross at one point, like now that the idea of slutty Krystle was in his head, he kind of wanted that, asking why I've been holding out on him.

Suffice it to say, we didn't wind up going to his folks for Thanksgiving, and it felt really lonely - Momma Kamen had decided to pick up some overtime since Karla and I would both be with our guys, and of course everybody else had plans.  I was halfway through dialing my father's number, but then I found myself debating what would be worse - nobody else being there, so I could be lectured about how they had told me that staying Krystle would end in tears, or friends who wouldn't believe I was Jonah even if we told them, meaning I have to pretend to be some black-sheep cousin, and agent I trying to avoid lying?

Fortunately, it's not a big deal to Little Moira, especially since we could watch the dog show and the rerun of the parade.  I even talked myself into it actually being pretty cool to have pizza delivered for Thanksgiving dinner, especially since, as a woman, I was probably going to get put to work in the kitchen otherwise.

That lasted right up until Moira asked how the trip went.  I tried to play it cool, like some minor incident had kept it from happening, since I was hoping that maybe Calvin would call and say he'd overreacted, but then more came out.  I honestly couldn't remember whether I'd ever told Moira about the stripper stuff, but she was awesome about not acting like it was a big deal either way.  Thankfully, she knows better than to try and cheer me up with spa days or the like, but she is great about asking how I doing when she sees me, and getting me out of the house to do stuff with her namesake.

And then, last night, I finished up work, sat down at the bar for a second, and just started crying like I haven't since realizing I was pregnant.

Fortunately, Ashlyn was working the bar, so I could tell her absolutely everything.  She patted my back a few times, and finally said she sometimes forgets I'm so young and skipped a bunch of steps.  "This is your first hard breakup, isn't it?"

"I... I guess?"

"Well, I'm not going to say it necessarily gets easier with practice, but look at it this way. You're getting a lot of your learning done at once.  First breakup period, first as a woman, first because you're not quite the woman you appear to be..."

"There will be more?"

She choked back a laugh.  "Oh, honey, you didn't think you were going to marry the first guy who was nice to you, did you?"

"Kind of!"

"Oh, no, trust me, just having been men doesn't mean we're going to be good at this - God, look at me!  I should be where Penny is by now, but...  It's hard, kid.

"But I didn't--"

"Yeah, I know. I hate to say better luck next time, because it sounds flip, but I'm guessing you're not going to quit."

She's right, of course, although I don't know that I need to get back out there right this minute.  Let me get through the holidays and then worry about being back on track by Valentine's Day.

-Jonah/Krystle

Valerie: The Changes Never Stop

I found out recently that I'm lactose intolerant.

I had been feeling very gross off and on recently and I couldn't put my finger on why. Well, I guess I had some kind of an inkling but I probably dismissed it because I knew I never had a problem with it before. But the other week we were decorating out Apartment Christmas Tree and that meant lots of boozy Egg Nog, and that ended with me in the bathroom until 3 AM and turning down Rafe for the night (he was disappointed, and very immature about it when I told him why.)

I know this barely sounds like news, but it is to me. I had really hoped I was done being surprised by my body. We've reached a good place, me and it. I know when I'm about to start my period, I found a good sleeping position, and I think I've figured out where all my erogenous zones are (some would surprise you.) Then it goes and throws me a curveball - it's changed.

Changed. Huh. Funny that. It was like I took for granted that the body I inherited from the original Val would always be what it was. But the truth is, we are all changing all the time, in ways we barely notice. Sometimes it's health, sometimes it's taste. And it don't take a magical Inn to spark these changes sometimes. Things are going to change and keep changing.

So on that note...

I made a consultation for next week to get my breasts reduced. It's crazy that it has taken me this long to woman up and do it... it's been a year now since Cynthia gifted me with the money to do so if I so desired, because that was a goal of hers, but she was living hand-to-mouth (and dared not ask her high-earning-but-indebted fiance for the cash.)

It wasn't a goal of mine. Sure, my boobs and I haven't always gotten along. I know what it's like to be a woman with much smaller breasts, as Lauren and Judith. But both of those lives seem just as alien to me as Tyler's. I identify myself as Valerie, and Valerie's body is this. Short and busty.

Well, there's no making me taller.

In a way I had made my peace with them. I always have complaints - they're damned inconvenient, it's hard to find nice clothes that fit, they make me sore, they draw a ton of attention and the minute I forget I have them, I knock something over on the counter with them or dip them in ketchup.

But they're mine. I'm attached to them because I woke up with them as part of me when I began being Valerie, and I identify them as a defining characteristic of myself-as-her. Not to mention sometimes the attention they attract is not unwanted, and deep down there's still a kernel of a man inside of me who thinks it's stupendous to wake up every morning and scrub up the hugest pair of breasts I've ever seen.

But they're biologically wrong. They are literally too big for my body and I'm pretty sure a lot of damage has already been done. In my head, my reluctance comes from the idea of getting rid of my breasts entirely and suddenly becoming flat. It would change my life but also I worry it would leave me feeling less like a woman (Meg has reminded me over and over that this is the wrong way to think.) They're roughly an H cup (once you get this big, sizes are really just approximate) and I could probably go down to a full C and still feel sexy and busty and proportionate and healthy all at once, but it's scary because that is like making this body into something other than the one I woke up in and after all this time I value that stability. Even if it leaves me unable to sleep on my stomach.

Truth is, it's stupid not to do. I guess I just wanted more time to be sure. Knowing my body is changing on me in strange ways kind of spurred me to think about this again.

(Feels self up)

Get them while you can...

-Val

Simon/Joy: That Thing Is Heavier Than It Looks!

My man has good timing.  Or maybe just phenomenal retention of details over time.  It will have to remain a mystery, because I'm not going to dredge up the thing that would answer the question one way or another with him.

It's been roughly a year since one of his visits to California lined up with me being at a low point, as the man living my life dropped a "Save The Date" on me to say he was going to stay as Simon for, presumably, life.  That date was last weekend, but instead of moping around some dismal wedding venue in Cleveland, feeling conflicted about what message bringing my rich boyfriend sends to the man who stole my life, I was lying on the beach in Jamaica, letting a charming Scottish man fetch me vodka martinis, pondering getting a Honey Ryder bikini for selfie purposes, even if I don't quite have the same sort of curves Ursula Andress did.

Indeed, by Sunday night I was relaxed and content by the campfire, showing Iain how to make s'mores, which are apparently not a big thing in Scotland.  I was thinking of it as just a vacation, not connected with that other thing, so I was genuinely surprised when, as we were about to dose the fire, he got down on one knee, pulled a jewelry box from somewhere, and asked me to marry him.

I stopped beating for a moment.  I don't know what goes through a real girl's mind then but I had so many thoughts all at once.  I had never imagined seeing this scene from this perspective, looking down at at a man on one knee with the ring extended toward me like the really cheesy bit in a 3D movie, and there's an amazing feeling when it hits you that someone likes you enough to make this offer.

And also, I did it!  I've played the part of a woman so successfully that there was nothing in the back of his mind that made proposing feel wrong.  I'd made him like the parts of me that were different from the original Joy, maybe even more, because he hadn't asked her.  And, yes, I'd landed myself a rich husband, one who would give me peace and security no matter what else being Joy threw at me.  It was the biggest sales job I've ever done, with the biggest commission.

You may say that sounds mercenary and awful, but I didn't feel any guilt as I said "yes" with genuine delighted surprise and let him slide the ring onto my finger.  I'm not the first pretty girl to use my good looks to lock in a comfortable life, and I won't be the last - and most of the others grew up learning how to navigate the world as a woman.

And I do love him.  It's probably not the same way a regular woman lives a man, but I feel good when I'm around him and warmer as he held me and kissed me.  I feel a bit of envy where most girls probably just feel desire, and I probably measure him against what I'd do in a similar situation more than his other girlfriends have, but he scores well, so what of it?

All of that did make it feel different when we had sex as soon as getting back to the hotel room.  We'd liked each other before; now we belonged to each other, and we were both a bit more aggressive and careful with what we were holding.  I think I may have enjoyed it bit more, too - it was almost like back when I first discovered my clit and was learning new ways to stimulate it with each new guy.  No pressure, just fun.

Still, when I got into the shower afterward, taking off my earrings and necklace and other jewelry, I looked at the ring and had a brief moment where I didn't know whether to take it off or not, thinking that girls who had planned to get married since they were kids knew but I didn't because I'm a fake.  I decided not to take it off, but it took a second, and Iain noticed the hesitation.  He thought it was funny when I said that I'd just realized I'd never be totally naked again.

I had a quick moment of panic when we got to the airport because of it.  I think that most of us guys the Inn turned into girls tend to go light on jewelry, and I always take it off before going through airport security, but obviously this wasn't coming off.  It was a silly thing to worry about - did I think every engaged woman or married couple took these things off and risked losing them in the x-ray machine? - but I didn't think about it until that moment.

Then we got home and it was time to show off the ring, and that was kind of weird.  Not at first - Sir Robert was the first person we told and showed, and he was just as sweet as can be.  Weathers and some of the other help may not have been completely pleased - I get the feeling some of them see Iain marrying an American who isn't rich as beneath him and somehow them by extension - but to hell with them.  I may be able to fire them if they give me crap by this time next year.

I haven't made a while lot of female friends of my own here yet - we travel, split time between the manor and London, and lots of Iain's friends are couples anyway - so that's kind of weird.  I see them with him, and my first instinct is to kind of be causal, but he wants to tell them, and I get it.  It's a big deal, and a really nice ring, after all, and I've certainly liked it when a girl showed off a gift I gave her in my old life, but it kind of starts to feel one-sided at a certain point.  He's not wearing a ring showing that he's claimed and off the market, and I've got to relate the whole story of him getting down on one knee like I was surprised and flattered and not like this is something I've been working toward, even though I'm pretty sure some of these women were just as mercenary as me.

Joy's parents are thrilled, but I'm already wondering what the next year's going to be like.  The bride's family isn't people who can be minimized when wedding planning, but I've been living my own life.  They probably know a lot more about Joy's dream wedding than I do, and I'm guessing it might be useful.  I don't have a dream wedding, after all, and living her dream is probably better than just going through the motions.

After which I'll be Joy McKinnon.  I suppose I should be a little sad about that, but it's not like "Kershaw" means that much to me.

Still, there's a lot coming up, because I've got this ring on my finger, even if most of my life is staying the same.

-Simon/Joy

Valerie: Two and a Half Men

I don't really count myself as half a man anymore, but the reference is too apt not to use. For my purposes it's better if I think of myself as all-woman, and yet maybe that's not true either.

One night after Rafe and I had sex, we got to talking - it's rare, but it happens and honestly when he feels chatty we do have a good chemistry. I was talking about some of my negative experiences in dating, and he said it wasn't surprising that I couldn't find a match.

Slightly offended, I asked why.

"Well, don't take this the wrong way, but... you're kind of like, basically a dude."

I stared a hole right through him. Of course I knew what he was talking about, but I didn't want to.

"Is that so," I asked.

"Yeah, I don't know what it is about you, but you're the opposite of every girl."

"Why, because I like sports and don't love shopping?"

"No - you actually do like shopping. And you cook and clean."

"And these things are usually considered girly..." I said.

"It's your attitude. I've been taking sociology classes. Gender studies. It's like you weren't socialized like a normal chick. You seem like you could hardly give a fuck about relationships and intimacy and communicating, you're more about straight-up facts and details. You're a little more masculine, a little colder and harder than other chicks."

"First of all," I said with annoyance, "It can't be right to stereotype a whole gender like that." I was trying desperately - maybe ironically but here's where we're at - to downplay the idea that I am a guy inside.

"Maybe," Rafe admitted, "But there's something unusual about you, and I bet after one date most guys can sense it, and they decide you're too much trouble. Or like, dating you would be too much like dating a guy."

"Isn't that what most guys want?"

"They think they do," he said, "but then they have it and it's like... oh, shit, this is weird."

"And it's not weird for you?"

"I'm not dating you," he noted pointedly. "Or maybe I'm a little gay, I don't know."

"Me neither," I said, and quickly got us off the topic.

It was a few weeks into my new casual non-relationship with Rafe. Things were going about as well as could be expected. I was still hanging out with Kevin, although there was a definite change in our relationship. I didn't feel the need to tell him I was sleeping with somebody else - being that he had passed up every opportunity he had, I figured I didn't owe him an explanation, and at the time I still wasn't sure if Rafe and I were a thing worth mentioning.

I've been doing my best to keep things separate. On Halloween, for example, I let it slip to Rafe that I didn't have any other plans that night. I haven't met Kevin's kids yet because, well, I'm not "that person" and it doesn't seem fair, to any of us, for the kids to get to know me if this isn't really a relationship. It's something we've spoken about over coffee, during our many soul-searching chats.

Rafe seemed a little "off" when I proposed we do something for the night. It struck me that he may have thought I was trying to back him into a, god forbid, boyfriend-girlfriend type situation. So I scrambled to explain, which I probably shouldn't have had to do, that I really just mean I would be up for doing anything and it would be best (ie, I would feel more comfortable, as a single woman) if there was someone there I knew.

He stifled his irritation and we made some plans, but I was regretting it. I was flashing back to the previous year when I was starting to pin some boyfriend-type expectations on him and he made it clear he wasn't interested in the role. I wondered if I was putting myself through too much of a wringer again.

The night was fixing to be a shitshow of epic proportions. He insisted we arrive separately. He didn't wear a costume, which made me feel silly for wearing a cowgirl getup, with Daisy Dukes and my boobs basically all the way out under a gingham shirt, in my one industrial-strength pushup bra. But whatever - I looked cute and hot at the same time, and he looked like a dope because everyone else was in costume.

He made it clear he wasn't there to keep me company, chatting up every girl he could meet - and striking out with pretty much all of them. I'll admit I felt a twinge of jealousy. It's hard to say why. We're not exclusive. I give lots of my time and attention to a whole other guy. It's unfair to expect Rafe to only be with me. And yet the idea of him going home with anyone but me really bugged me.

I hated feeling that way. So I downed some tequila and hit the dance floor.

I can't stress this enough - I cannot dance. Whatever rhythm women naturally possess was not handed down to me when I became one. But I have hips and other parts that are fun to shake awkwardly, and men are usually just impressed enough by the sight of a woman in motion that talent doesn't really play into it.

Men started to chat me up. Because of the walls I keep around myself, I guess, it doesn't happen often - it's not like I hit the clubs in my spare time, it's not like I seek attention usually, but when I want it, I get it.

Only problem is, when I got it, I found I really didn't want it. Men can be such a nuisance. Few of them have anything interesting to say, mostly they're just looking for ways to compliment your body and impress you with their job or their money. Then it's so hard to get away it feels like you're stuck. I like them better when they're shutting up and getting physical. So I danced with a few guys, which made me feel less claustrophobic. With enough liquor and the right atmosphere you kinda don't notice they're starting to get bolder, take liberties, put their hands in places where they wouldn't with the lights on. You don't mind, it's all in fun... but your mind starts to wander.

One guy was dressed as Dustin from Stranger Things - no, not interested in making out with someone dressed as a child. Another guy was he grim reaper, but the face paint was off-putting. Every guy, there was some reason not to cut loose.

I checked on Rafe. He was having fun but it was clear he was giving up on the game. So when I came back to him, he was more open to it. I asked him if he wanted to get out of there, and he said of course, and that was how we ended up back at my place for the night.

That was when we had that conversation. It's been ringing in my ears ever since. It bugged me enough to be told I seemed like a guy - I know I'll never be someone who was born to be a woman, but I like to think I've grown into it and pass nicely as one. It actually hurt to hear that wasn't necessarily the case.

I definitely thought things didn't work out with any of my dates because I had rejected them - because I'm at a point in my life where the directionless boys I was attracting didn't meet the standards of what I wanted to be with. But none of them seemed too driven to be with me either.

I think that's why I like being with Kevin. He's the only guy I've met in this life who is older and more experienced than me, and I guess feeling young brings out the girlish youthfulness that makes me feel feminine. I feel like I'm the person I really want to  e when I'm around him. I feel like I'm taking care of his emotional needs in a way I never thought I could, and he does the same for me, in away - but at a distance. It hurts and yet it makes me feel good.

This shit is complicated. No wonder why I need sweaty, unemotional sex with Rafe to ease my mind.

Between the two it really feels like I have it all, and yet... it never seems to come together.

-Val