Alia/Rob: Middle ground

My life - and by that I mean Rob's life as led by me - is exhausting.

I'll be the first to admit that I don't have much of a life outside of the job. Cathy was on my case about this as we supervised the cafeteria today. I keep telling her we're not kids, and that by the time I get home from my after-school commitments, I'm usually too tired to do anything.

I make fun of her for nagging me and ask, "What are you, my wife?" unconsciously forgetting the implications of that statement.

She replies, "Ouch," then pauses a moment to let the meaning settle. Awkward. Then she continues, "No, I'm your friend. I want you to get out there and meet people, have fun while there's time. Don't get old too soon." Too late, I think, but anyway. "Do you do anything but work, watch TV and sleep?"

"Sure," I say, trying to defend myself, wanting to seem like it was true. "I go to movies, I... grocery shop... laundromat."

She laughs, "Errands don't count, buddy! You told me you were busy on Valentine's day. Don't tell me you were folding shirts."

"No, that was a real... well, it was platonic." I had a note of shame in my voice, not because I wish it weren't, but because it's irritating that Cathy is so right and yet so wrong.

"Look," she says, "Once a month, some friends and I go out to see a movie. Usually something we can laugh at. Next week, we're gonna go see that Hot Tub Time Travel movie."

"Hot Tub Time Machine," I correct her.

"You should come along, okay?"

I roll my eyes. "What kind of friends? Women?"

"Mostly, but it's a mix. one of my girlfriends usually brings her boyfriend, too, even though we can't really stand him. Otherwise I think you'd like them."

"What do you mean I'd like them? Is this a fix-up or something?" I start to get really defensive for no good reason.

"What? No!" she says in a way that means kinda, adding "Look, I'm not gonna lie. I do think it would be cool if you ended up liking one of my friends, but that isn't what this is about. I just want to hang out with you in a non-school setting for once, let you loosen up."

I give her the benefit of the doubt. Listen, I think Cathy's a really cool woman. She reminds me of myself. Smart, with a bit of a playful streak, but less vulnerable. My problem is that once I started dating Todd, I became sort of a "guys' girl," because I realized I hadn't enjoyed the company of women that much in my teen life. Now that I'm a guy, it's sort of coming back estranged (this is my vague recollection of Freud) and I like it. So I do want to hang out with her, but I don't want to lead her, or any of her friends, on.

So I agree to it. I've kind of followed the opposite path from Cliff... she got really social pretty quickly and regretted it, and I've been anti-social this whole time and regret it. We both need to find middle ground.

-Alia

Todd: All in the Family

In the late hours of February 17th 2010, the world met Katherine Anne LaFleur Flaherty. Katie. My biological daughter.

I'd be lying if I said I was immune to the sentiment. Even if I had nothing to do with the act of conceiving her, and will not likely be part of raising her, she's... out there in the world. She carries my DNA. She's part of me. When I held her, I felt a connection, but I can't exactly describe what. It's a little like the connection you feel to someone whose body you are occupying. Asked if I had any thoughts on a middle name, I suggested Anne, for Anne Marie.

Erica was absolutely bursting when she first saw the little peanut. Hopped up on the emotions of a fairly difficult labour, exhaustion, euphoria, she watched this little pink somebody squirming in her arms and just broke down in tears of delight, beaming. She whispered "You're here, you're here."

Sean was still out west, amidst the craziness of the Olympics and his reason for being there, which is a potential job. What kind of a job takes you two weeks to get (or not get) I have no idea.

The night before it happened, I'd had one of my recurring nightmares. I don't think I've actually mentioned them on the blog, because every time I have one I am just too weirded out to get a handle on myself and write about it. In this one, I was in Toronto, but sometimes I'm back in Connecticut. But the nightmare's recurring theme is the Inn: I look down and suddenly I'm back in Anne Marie's body. I've got her breasts, her chubby thighs, her little knees, her arms, her feet, her wide hips, her round bum, her pussy. I feel everything I did the way when I was her. It's a little colder, my muscles ache a little more, I feel a little lethargic and my breasts feel tender with age. I feel myself get a little wet, but not with arousal, with nervousness or fear (it's a dream, it doesn't have to make sense.) But everyone knows it's me. Alia was in this one. She was in her own body, but she wasn't acting like herself, but in the dream it was her and not Crystal. And I felt like she was getting angry at me for being Anne Marie, but she wasn't really. She was totally indifferent, but her seeing me like that made me feel so ashamed. Sometimes it's not Alia, sometimes it's my mom, or Bryan, or Erica, or my third grade teacher. But this deep, sore feeling wells up until I jolt awake. I don't get back to sleep most nights when I have them.

So anyway, I was up, and understandably freaked out. I was thinking about making a drink or smoking a bowl (except Erica doesn't have any at her place, where I've been staying, which is probably just as well as it is one of many bad habits I have been trying to leave behind.) Anyway. I was up on the couch, just not falling asleep, when suddenly I hear this rustling from Erica's room, followed by cries of intense (agony?) She calls out my name and bursts through the door. "Todd, Todd, it's happening!" she pants.

After a brief period of confused panic, during which I tried to figure out how to discern she was actually going into labour, I got her to the hospital (driving her car, a Kia.) While she was wheeled off, I called Sean in Vancouver to let him know he was going to be a dad.

I wasn't sure whether I wanted to be in the delivery room, but she did ask, so I thought, "Who am I to reject a pregnant lady's demands?" So in I went, to act as birthing partner, even though I hadn't done any Lamaze classes or anything (during my time staying with her, she did give me a primer on what would be expected, should she give birth, but it's one thing to hear, another thing to experience.)

What she couldn't know, and what I feel a little bad for thinking so hard about, was how traumatic it was for me. I mean, as far as she knows, I've never been a woman, don't know what having a vagina feels like, can't imagine something bursting out of it. But while no, I didn't know anything about the actuality of birth, I definitely lived through enough menstruation and other vaginal events to be able to synthesize it in my head. It's like imagining getting a finger cut off: you have fingers, and the rest you can fill in with your imagination.

This lasted a few hours, all the while I was wincing in sympathy pain in my imaginary vagina. 14 hours later, just before 11 PM, the cord was cut, and the little girl was in the open. Free and clear.

Bryan and Crystal were waiting outside, although Bry had nodded off. Crystal cooed over the baby like, well, a woman who really wanted one (which Bry took with self-effacing humour: "You're too young to want a baby.") Bry patted me on the back, and I joked "Hey, my work is done here. She's Sean's problem now."

I had only a little moment with her alone. I told her, "Katie, someday, you're going to wonder about this day. I don't know what your mommy and daddy are going to tell you, but someday they'll have to explain how you got here, and why daddy wasn't in the room with mommy, and who was holding her hand when... when she brought you into the world. I don't know who I'm gonna be to you, kiddo. I don't know if I wanna be Uncle Todd or other-daddy, or what. I don't want to be a stranger, but I think it's sad... I think it's sad that even if your mom tells you the truth, that still... you'll never be able to know the truth about where your real daddy was the day you were born."

When I got home, the first thing I did was e-mail Deb down in Florida to let her know that her daughter had been born.

Then I went to sleep for the first time in about 24 hours, going to work in the morning and returning to the hospital as soon as I could.

-Todd

Alia/Rob: Valentine

There are some cliches about women I've never cared for. It isn't that they don't have a grain of truth, but I think the truth is more nuanced than some people (men) assume.

One is that we're obsessed with emotions (romance, commitment, etc.) I think this definitely varies from girl to girl. I never felt passionate desire about another person (romantically) until I met Todd. Seriously. My whole teenage life was spent being shy and not very in touch with my emotions. There was a boy who liked me a lot, and I didn't feel the same way, and I humoured him a little bit before realizing how our perceptions of each other didn't match up, and when I finally had to be honest with him, he didn't take it well. I've seen boys, and men, break down emotionally. Don't tell me men aren't ruled by their emotions.

My first Valentine's day with Todd, we had just gotten together, and our relationship was very new and very passionate. I was definitely expecting something other than what I got, because he spent the whole night drunk to the point of incapacitation in my dorm room bed, with me handy with a receptacle for his vomit, rambling the entire time about how important I was to him (this was about three and a half months into our relationship) and how grateful he was to be with a girl like me. I began to wonder what I had gotten myself into.

That shouldn't be a pleasant memory for me. It symbolizes seemingly all the problems I had with him later, having to take care of him, having to put up with his immaturity, but the heart is a complicated thing and when I think back to that memory, I think of young love, and I barely remember the smell of alcohol-soaked vomit in a trashbin.

Flash forward 5 years to 2009. Apparently, my Todd was in Connecticut having "relations" (his charming word for it, alternating with "boner time") with Hal Adkisson while the man I believed to be him - in actuality a woman named Deb - was leaving me to my own devices. I've never felt lower than I did during that time, and the painful part of this whole ordeal is that even though I know the truth, that doesn't make the memory hurt any less. I mean, he had acted unfairly to me before, but this was the first time since knowing him he had flat-out ignored my existence. Imagine how hurtful, how baffling, it must've been for me at the time. And that led to certain actions of which I am not proud. But they were my choices.

(That miserable Valentine's Day was roughly on par with the previous year, which I spent observing the crumbling of my relationship with the real Todd. Amazing how things can change... but as much as Todd refers to me as "his girlfriend," the reality, as you can guess, is more complicated.)

So, even alone, far from home, male, paunchy, and frustrated both professionally and sexually, this was not fixing to be my worst Valentine's Day ever. But over the weekend I was feeling the need for some human contact, so I asked Cliff if she had any plans for the night.

She said no. In her group of six, four of them are happily coupled, while Raine was intending to go to a singles event to scam on guys. There was really no place for her. The content of our last posts notwithstanding, I think she's a really cool person, we get along well, and I feel like if we've got to suffer through this together, we may as well make the best of it (not in that way, though.) I offered to take her out to dinner.

She agreed, but pushed the chivalry, the "oh, why don't you let me pay" angle, and we ended up compromising and going Dutch. It wasn't a real date anyway.

I picked her up in a rental car. She was waiting at the door, saying she didn't want the hassle of introducing me to her "parents" inside, which I understand given the circumstances. We went out to the only place we could agree was sufficiently nice and yet still seemingly within our price range, a Sushi restaurant. Cliff was wary, she'd never had Sushi in her previous life, and apparently Tori did not enjoy it, but with a wry smile, she said to me, "I think if there's one thing we know about me nowadays, it's that I'm open to new things." That gave me a bit of a laugh.

We went inside - the place was packed but I had called the night before to squeeze in a reservation (but we still had to wait at the bar.) When she checked her overcoat, I saw a Cliff - make that a Tori - I had not yet met.

She had a very subtle make-up job, mascara and glossy lips. I couldn't tell whether someone had helped her with them or she just winged it (if so, doing a pretty good job.) She wore a silver necklace that didn't look like it matched the outfit and had been chosen at random from the jewelry box. The pendant, a heart, fell just at the top of her cleavage... she was wearing a rather low-cut black dress with a hemline that fell to the knee, and very obviously a push-up bra.

She caught me in my male gaze. She smirked, "See something you like, Rob?"

With a snort of flustered laughter, I replied "You can call me Al. It's a compromise." It's also a Paul Simon reference, a favourite dumb joke of Todd's, a way of keeping him in the conversation, and probably too obscure of a music reference for Cliff (not really shown herself to be a major music freak, but boy does she know computers.)

We took seats at the bar and I said, "You didn't have to do this."

"Well, let me have it," she said, "If I'm lucky, I won't have too many more opportunities to play dress-up."

"A lot of guys wouldn't be comfortable dressing that way."

"A few months in a body like this gives you time to get used to the idea," she replied.

"You pulled it off, except..."

"What?"

I said, "Your hair's a little wild." It has a tendency toward poofiness. Haircare takes a long time to master. She said she knows, and said she'd hoped she could get away with it. I said, normally, it would be fine, but with a more formal outfit like she had on, it looked odd. "I'd recommend a straightener, just to make mit more manageable."

At this point, smiling and saying "Thanks," she swept her hair behind her ear and I noticed something else.

"No earrings?"

"I wore them for a little bit, but they were hard to keep putting back in, so I let the holes close up. I keep meaning to get them re-done, but I'm a little nervous about it. I just wanna give tori her body back the same way it was when..."

She trailed off, so I completed her thought, "Yeah, I'm the same way. That's why I'm planning on putting those extra 8 pounds back on while I'm still Rob." She gave a little laugh. "Well anyway,, you look..." I paused and searched my mind for the right word before finally settling on "Nice." Yes, I have a Bachelor's Degree in English.

"You're just saying that."

"Well, think about it," I said "Tori's a very pretty girl. It must be hard walking the balance between her look, and your identity--"

"Yeah," she cut me off a little bit, "After a while, I got sick of thinking about how hard it is. It's all on the blog. I'm a guy, I'm a girl. I mean, have you ever really thought about how amazing this has all been?"

"Of course. Every day."

"I mean, knock on wood, Al, we're going home. I can stop holding my breath. I can really look around at the world around me safe in the knowledge that--"

"Don't jinx it."

She sighed. We ordered drinks - a beer for me and a rum and coke for her. She protested, thinking it would turn me into a drunk driver, but I insisted Rob's ability to handle alcohol was not slight.

We were eventually seated and she continued. "I read some of your posts about your relationship with Todd." I'd told her a bit about it as well, "You said you used to be real shy and introverted and not all that much into relationships."

"Yeah, that was pretty much it."

"That's me, Al. Except I never grew out of it." A waiter approached and I ordered for her, at her request.

She went on, "I've been thinking a lot about our conversation." (I thought, Jeez, this again?) "And you were right. It seems very complicated. I'm not built for that. I only asked you, because you know the truth about me, and I thought-- not that that would make it okay, but, I thought it would be wrong to be with someone who didn't know the truth about me."

I re-affirmed my belief that "It woukd be wrong for us to go after anyone."

She said, "Yeah, but that doesn't mean I can't want it. That's why it's so weird. that feeling I got when I met Willie... the way he seemed to see me, not Tori. That's what I want. And my main goal for when we get back is to find someone I can connect with."

Our food was served and she looked down at it noncommittally: both to the idea that she could find someone when she gets back to her normal self, and to the food.

"Hey," I said, taking the first bite, "You're surviving. That's all you've got to do."

She began to eat. After a few bites, she appraised the flavour and decided "It's not bad."

I raised my glass, "To new experiences!" She clinked a cheers. After we sipped, I added, "As my Mexican ancestors would say, Que Sera Sera."

She smirked, "That's not Spanish, I think it's Latin."

"Well, whatever. I know English, and high school French. That's it."

So then she said, with slight awe and envy, "You know, it's amazing. I'm here rambling about all my breakdowns and my sex-obsession, and you're just... you seem fine. You're like a rock. It's like it doesn't even bother you."

"Well, that's sorta true," I sighed, "It could be it just never hit me as hard as you. There are days when I feel absolutely shitty about this body -- sluggish, cut off from that feeling of... femininity, I guess you could say."

"Yeah, I'd say that," she winced.

"And there's days when I feel like I've got the whole world on my shoulders. The principal at this school is really on my ass, realizing I'm not, well, the most professional teacher ever. I'm trying, Cliff, I really am, but it does overwhelm me sometimes. I just have too much on my mind to stop and think Holy Crap I'm in a weird body. most of the time. When it does hit me, I feel like a total freak, but it's not often. And then there's the other difference... I have Todd to rely on. It helps to be so close with someone who's already been through it, and who's there for you. All you've got is me, and I haven't been so great at being your friend."

"That's not true," she protested, "You're a good friend. We're having dinner."

"Yeah, but sometimes, I mean, I feel guilty for not reaching out to you more."

"Well, you're here now," she said and we kept eating. She seemed to take to the sushi.

I still don't feel like I've excised my guilt over this whole situation. From the moment we sat down and realized how weird it was we had both changed our roles, we've both sort of stayed in our own spots, and she really seems to have had a tougher time of it. If we both make it out of this alive, it's possible I've made a good new friend. Hell, Cliff's family is only just across the border.

For now, though, the tough times seemed like they'd passed. We went upstairs to the Karaoke bar. Tori's voice is very nice, but not the way Cliff uses it to scream "I Want you To Want Me." I fared no better on "Satisfaction." I had no excuse though, because I was definitely sober enough to drive her home.

She wasn't so sober, though: she fell asleep on my shoulder on the drive back to her place. She looked so peaceful, it almost breaks your heart to know what she's been through.

-alia

Greg/Priya: Worst Valentines Day ever

So its been forever and a day since I updated you on my life, but to get to the really important hanging question: Yes, I did get my reservation at the inn. Its the last weekend in June, not only giving me enough time to get back from Maine for my wedding, but it gives Priya enough time to get back to herself in time to be the maid of honor. It really put me in a good mood for about two weeks. Didnt feel the need to blog, since I only do that when something big happens or I feel sad, depressed, or lonely, which brings me to this late night valentines entry.

I did not go out on a date tonight, in fact I lied to Amber and told her I DID have a date so that she wouldnt set me up with one of her friends. Shes always trying to do that, I think its because women in couples want their friends to be in couples so that they can do couples things together. I actually stayed in hung out with Simone tonight. But just because I didnt have a date this Valentines doesnt mean I didnt put in a ton of work for it.

It all started last saturday, when I was at the mall with Amber. We were at Victoria's Secret, which has become one of my favorite stores. Not because I like buying frilly girly underwear, but because I get to help Amber do so. And since I dont ever get to have intimate moments with her anymore, seeing her try on sexy lingerie is about as close as I get. Anyway, this particular day we were chatting as seh tried on some complicated thing that was all lace and fishnets and she remarked to me that "She hoped this would light a spark between her and Greg"

I asked her to go on and she said that she and Dee had been having sex pretty infrequently lately, like once every two weeks, and even then he doesnt seem interested in it. This surprised me, but when you think about it, Dee is a straight woman on the inside, and I imagine things for her right now are like it was for Todd the first few months. The idea of having sex with another woman is probably still weird to her, and even though I know that she HAD done it in, I guess she didnt really like it.

After I got home from the mall, I started thinking. While I wasnt really comfortable with the idea of Dee having sex with Amber at first, I had grown to accept it. After all, as far as Amber was concerned, it was me, so it wasnt cheating. Now I faced the prospect of getting back to my life in July and being in a major rut, which is very hard to pull out of. I love Amber with all my heart, but I dont want to be in a sexless marriage with her. I was gonna have to make sure Dee did it right on Valentines day, and that she would take care of Amber, both physically and emotionally, for the rest of her stay in my body.

I called up Dee and asked her what she had planned, and she told me she hadnt really thought about it. This boggled my mind, since she, as a former girl, should know just how important Valentines Day is to them. Of course, she probably never had to set up the date, and she WAS divorced so she couldntve had THAT may great Valentine's Days, but I digress.

For the last week I've been coaching her. I had her get a reservation at Ambers favorite restaurant, which wasnt hard because its this little hole in the wall Italian Place that barely anyone knows about, so It actually had Valentines reservations. I also took her to the store to help pick out a piece of jewelry she like, its a gold bracelet with roses engraved into it. I also gave him tips on her favorite wine, favorite music, favorite cologne, and anything else I could think of to ensure that he would get laid.

And if all went according to plan, thats just what hes doing now. Me, in the meantime, I just got done with a pretty fun night. Simone is the coworker that went on the snowboarding trip with us, the also single one. Turns out she and I have a lot in common, which surprised her since shes known Priya for a few years. Im gonna make sure Priya trys to stay friends with her after we go back to normal.

Anyway, Simone fills a need in my life. A best friend sorta need. Something that if I were the real Priya, Amber would fulfill. But I cant look at Amber as just a friend, so it kinda makes it difficult for me be around her in that capacity. Simone is just like me insomuch as that shes single and enjoys it. Shes in no hurry to settle down and would rather hang out with her friends than search for a soulmate.

So we went to a movie. She wanted to see "Valentine's Day" but I told her that It would be too crowded and cliched. Also because it looks like it sucks something awful. Theres no way you can have a cast that prolific without the story getting too cluttered. We saw "When in Rome" instead, because I like Kristen Bell from her Veronica Mars days. It turned out to be a chick flick, but at least a well acted out chick flick.

Afterwards we went back to my place and ate Ice Cream. Cliche I know, but all my yoga and dieting has gotten me to 3 pounds less than what Priya weighed when I became her, so i deserve a little treat now and then, especially on a night like tonight.

As we ate our ice cream we watched "The Wedding Planner" and as well as being a reminder of weddings and being engaged and happiness and all the things im missing about my old life, it is also a terrible movie. Jennifer Lopez is not fun to watch when I dont have a penis. This is becoming one of the more difficult things for me. I can handle being a girl, I can handle pretending to be a teacher, I can handle being Indian, but so help me I CANNOT take pretending to like these movies.

Anyway, Simone had wine with her ice cream, which while gross also knocked her out cold, so shes sleeping on my couch right now, leaving me alert and in a contemplative mood. Hence the marathon blog post on this lover's night, even though the only lover Ill have is in Priya's top drawer

Hope everyone elses went better than mine

-Greg

Cliff/Tori: At home

I'm aware of how sad it is that I'm here on a Saturday night writing this. Hell, if I'd wanted to spend my Saturday night (the night before Valentine's) sitting in front of a TV screen or a computer monitor, I could've kept my penis.

I mean, sure I could get out (Snowmageddon notwithstanding) but where would that get me? there's no such thing as an innocent night out when you look like this. I even went bowling a couple weeks ago with Sara, Raine and Cyndi -- girls night out -- and we still got male attention. And hell, part of me likes it. A lot of these guys are the guys I would feel like I was in competition with a year ago, guys who under normal circumstances would have an easy time with a girl like Tori but have no idea what to with me. And in a weird, perverse way, I get some satisfaction out of that. It's horrible, it's manipulative, I know, but if they could see it from my side, if they knew who they were talking to, I think they'd understand. But there's nothing I can say to them.

But it's about keeping a balance. I would be miserable in my past life (I wanted to say my "real" life, but let's face it, for now, this really is my real life) spending a night like this, but I'm comfortable here. The bra is off, the comfy hoodie is on, so are the fuzzy socks and the pj bottoms. I am in for the night. Which makes me the only Pearce to do so, as the parents are out on date night, and Mae is off with her boyfriend. Seems like an ideal moment to go on a date with myself, but I'm saving that for later.

The mind boggles. From a guy, you wouldn't wanna hear about that stuff. Alia knows what I mean. Nothing fancy about a guy jerking off, but a girl, it's very romantic. It feels romantic.

Sad but true: I'm only a few drinks and one bad decision away from being one of those girls who guys pay to see fondle themselves on webcams. Except I think those girls talk dirty to the guys too, and I wouldn't know what to say. If I could pretend like nobody was watching, I might be able to go through with it, but in reality I am way too self-conscious.

Tori writes about doing it. She started seeing this boy in 11th grade, and started doing it on a whim because something about him made her want to (to put it vaguely.) And about two months into their relationship she gave him her virginity, and then it took a long while for him to live up to the expectation she had created for herself.

The thing that really struck me about Tori's writing occurs sometime after that, when it was over between her and this boy. before the end of that school year, her friend Danny, the boy she'd carried a torch for pretty much the whole time, even when she was dating other people, came out to her as gay. And she pours her heart out to the diary about how brave he was for doing that and how proud she was, but also surprised, and she admits with a significant amount of shame that this doesn't change her feelings toward him.

And then he flat-out disappears from the diary.

She doesn't write anything new about him, not to the point I've read. He just drops out of her life. No references. Then she starts hanging out more with Sara and Raine (Sara, practically a stranger, Raine, a somewhat annoying acquaintance until then.) More talk about fashion and style than before, less introspection.

It's like she cut herself off from her feelings. Maybe she couldn't live with her feelings for Danny knowing they could never be together. Maybe she just toughened her shell, became more of a well, a cliche.

Well, I can only speculate. I am curious enough to want to ask but I know it must be a sensitive subject. We all are entitled to our secrets and if this is something she kept from her diary maybe it's not meant for me to know anyway. I feel like, at this point, I've gotten to know this girl whose body I've been living in all these months.

My God, how long it's been.

It will always be etched into my memory, the sudden realization one morning that everything about me had changed, as my t-shirt was loose against my suddenly flabby, swollen chest and my slim shoulders... the feeling of my long hair against my face... the curious lack of testicles hanging off my groin. I'm not that person anymore, none of that is shocking to me anymore, but for so long, I couldn't pull up a pair of panties or zip up a pair of tight jeans without feeling somewhere in the back of my head that I was going to snag something, that I was bundling myself up too tight down there, even though I knew perfectly well there was nothing to worry about bundling.

Oh, I remember it all, and I wish I'd had the presence of mind to write it all down on this blog (I did make a few notes privately by hand, but looking over them they are largely under-detailed.) I remember when I first looked at myself in the mirror naked I utterly wanted to cry. No, this can't be happening, the mirror is wrong. but look down, look through your own cleavage and you will get an unobstructed view of the floor between your feet. Now that's just then daily view for me. I'm totally bemused by the entire setup. "Oh, yeah, looking good today, boobs. Might give the pubes a trim later."

Comfort. At first I felt utterly oppressed by the bra. How could I not? Panties are one thing. You barely notice there's anything different between a standard-cut panty and a men's brief, since there's nothing to really gauge the difference by. But the bra, that was just so... I mean, I resented having these two bags of flesh hanging off my body to start with, the last thing I wanted was to make them look all perky and appealing, and strain my shoulders with straps. And then one day I got out of the shower, and I thought to myself, "God, these things are just hanging there." So life has a funny way of making you change your viewpoint, especially after your body's changed.

All these things I remember from the first few weeks like they were a whole other lifetime. It's been a growing process, but it's like I changed twice, once in my body, once in my mind.

I had to get really comfortable with my body before I could do what I did on January 1st. It goes beyond dressing nice and doing one's hair. I had actually tried to start it during one of those hectic "Oh God what is going on" days back in summer. It was a typically male "Might as well try this" moment, since it had been such a huge part of my life as a guy, but it was almost too good, it freaked me out after just a little touch because I really did not want to enjoy myself. So even as I grew more and more comfortable with my body, it wasn't until Thanksgiving that the idea even re-occurred to me as something I would actually want to try, and then over six weeks later before I actually tried it because, well, sometimes you just need to wait for the right time. You need to feel at home.

And now I do feel at home. Because as weird as all that body stuff was, that was private: the really tough part was feeling safe and secure in this house. For so long, I felt like the stranger in the house, the liar, the fake. Like they were looking at me, sizing me up, compiling mental evidence that I was their fake daughter. I wanted to get out and stay out as much as I could, hence my drinking nights with the girls (and their boys.) But now that time has passed and I know when I'm getting my body back (knock on wood) I feel comfortable just relaxing and being... myself. I like Mr. and Mrs. Pearce a lot, and Mae and I have really grown close. She's the little sister I never had.

What bothers me is the obvious fact that it's not me they care for, it's the person they think I am. At the end of the day, I don't see myself as that girl. I'm just a girl who looks like her. I'm both at home, and not at home. But I'm trying to make the best of it.

I don't know what the future holds. I don't know if life can keep going like this until July, but I have my routine, and I like it. I'm comfortable here, which is so weird to say, but I think you know what I'm getting at. It's not like an earthquake destroyed my house: I have food and clothes and something to do with my time. My life could be a lot worse right now.

One last thing I want to say before I leave is that I think maybe Alia gave the wrong impression of the conversation we had about hypothetically having sex. It's not like I went over there with the intention of seducing him. But I'm a girl and he's a guy, and whether I have sex with a guy while I'm in this body is my decision, because I definitely know that if I wanted it, I could. I've entertained the notion of having sex with a male partner; I've also entertained the notion of having sex with a female partner, but I don't have much in the way of options there. I think Alia and I agreed that it would mess things up for Rob and Tori if we were to do it with each other, but that wouldn't stop it from messing things up for ourselves, which I kind of get. I feel like I could handle it, if it was him and me. Five months is a long time to be left to my own devices. I feel like that would just take the pressure off (as well as get everyone off my back about finding someone.) But he trusts that I am a strong enough person that I don't need that... and hopefully he's right.

And if he thinks I think about sex a lot... he should meet Raine. Or Sara. Or 18-year-old Tori for that matter.

Todd: Peacemakers

Given the fact that my relationship with Sean Flaherty and Erica LaFleur you would be surprised to find out that I am writing this post from Erica's apartment.

I had barely seen her since Sean made it very clear, last summer, that he was going to raise this kid, and I was fine with it, but I felt like it was a loose end in my life, one of, perhaps, too many. There's no way I can rationalize it, but something didn't sit right with me about the idea of some poor bastard child being conceived during my time away from my body. The last time I had seen Erica and Sean, it was at a New Year's party we all happened to attend (hey, we run in the same circles.) Sean was shooting me death glares anytime I looked in their direction. Erica, sweet kid she is, had the look of a sympathetic, somewhat remorseful, and very, very pregnant captive.

I didn't know how to reach out to Erica. I didn't want to overstep my boundaries or get in a conflict with Sean. Frankly, I sympathized with him. From his perspective, I took advantage of a difficult time in his relationship with Erica. In some perverse form of retaliation, he and Alia started hooking up. After Sean and Erica patched up their differences was when she learned she was pregnant. I became his enemy.

I should note that Sean and I were never the best of friends to begin with, but we had hardly been enemies.

Bad feelings, man. It's hard to get over something like that, and as much as I want to be big about it, the only thing I could do was separate myself from them and let them live their lives. But it was always felt like that thread of my life was hanging, and apparently, so did Sean.

A couple nights ago, he showed up at my door. It was a Wednesday night, and someone was buzzing at my intercom. Sleepily, barely cognizant of what was going on, I unlocked the door, unsure if I had heard him correctly when he mumbled "Sean" into the receiver. He must've been halfway up to my place when I awakened and was struck with a sudden sense of dread. Did I really just invite Sean Flaherty up to my house, at 2 AM on a Wednesday night? (Well, now Thursday.) My heart began to beat. It was the kind of stress I hadn't faced much since regaining my own body.

When he arrived, it was pretty clear he was drunk. He sat himself down on the couch and proceeded to drink from a half-empty mickey of vodka that looked like something a 17-year-old pinches from his dad (I'd know.) I offered him something to mix with, he chose orange juice.

I wasn't sure whether he'd come to make peace or to beat the shit out of me. I think he hadn't decided between the two, because his attitude was shifting wildly. I just sat and listened patiently while he rambled, finally telling me exactly how mad he was about the way things had gone this past year. I told hi he wasn't alone, and he told me to shut the fuck up, and asked "What the fuck do you know?"

He continued, "What are you, mad about not having Alia? You could have her. I know she loves you, and I don't know why she's with Bryan right now, so I figure it must be because for some reason you decided you don't want her. But if you wanted her that badly, you'd just have to walk in there and tell her so. I know that's how she feels about you." She must've been very honest about the matter when she was with him. I wanted to tell him it was more complicated than that, but I didn't feel like outlining the reasons why. So I let him go on.

"But me? It's like, there's no hope for me anymore. This baby is coming, and it's yours. And no matter how close I am to it, it's always, like, going to be something that's between me and Erica, something that's keeping us apart. It's not taht I'm afraid of being a dad... it's just... I'm afraid I won't be able to be one when the time comes."

I was about to console him on the matter when he said something startling. "I proposed, you know. She said no. I tried to make this right, I'm trying to make it work, we've been together almost as long as... I was gonna say almost as long as you and Alia but I guess you're not together now are you."

"No, I guess not."

"But that's how long anyway. I don't want to be with anyone else, and we've all fucked up and I want to move past it."

I asked "Do you know why she said no?"

"Fuck no. Do you?"

"Nope. This is the first I've heard of it."

"It's not like we broke up or anything, she just said now wasn't the time for it. I don't know. Do you get women?"

I sighed. "Now less than ever."

He finished his drink and continued to ramble circularly. I had poured my own drink by this point. As he turned to leave, he explained why he had come to me. "I've got a chance at a job, at a hospital out in Vancouver." Sean is a male nurse of some kind. "I have to fly out for an interview, but Erica, she's, like, due any day now. I hate the thought of leaving her alone like this, so I was wondering if you'd, you know, take care of her. Just in case. Until I get back."

It was a very humane gesture, a real olive branch moment. I told him of course I would, and we shook hands, and he disappeared into the night.

It's been good, coming over here after work, just to be out of the house with someone, away from the Bry/Crystal show, to be social again, in a way, like I was with Ginny. To be on good terms with the women of the world. To have something of importance going on in my life. Not that this is Earth-shattering work, making dinner and watching TV with a pregnant lady, but it's the most tangible thing I've done with my life since I got back to it.

I think, in theory, it could've been anyone looking after Erica. She has any number of female friends who would've been more sensitive to her needs, most of whom Sean wouldn't have to fear her cheating with. But it's the gesture more than the practicality of it: I suspect Erica has been on his case about the cold war between us.

We haven't talked about any of the serious issues. She hasn't seemed keen to talk about, you know, the circumstances under which I impregnated her. I haven't asked why she rejected Sean's marriage proposal. But Erica is a smart cookie and we've had some interesting conversations. I'm starting to wake up out of what feels like my post-return coma.

-Todd

Alia/Rob: Everything breaks

Elaine Benes was right, in that episode of Seinfeld, when she said that a man's body is utilitarian - it's built for getting around. Even the skinny indie boys I like to date (HI TODD!) represent that to some degree. Heh, there's nothing elegant or traditionally beautiful about Todd's physique. He's thin, a little gangly. That's how I like my men. Imperfect in their perfect way.

A man's body is uncomplicated. You let the body hair grow, you get a little bit of a gut, your shoulders slump, it doesn't seriously affect the attractiveness, as long as the man has the right attitude. At least, that's my take on it. The sad thing about the way our culture has developed is that a woman's personality is often tied to her perceived beauty. If she knows she's hot from an early age, she'll act like it, and that'll make her a bitch. If she grows up not perceiving that she's attractive, she definitely won't act like she is (this is how I grew up, and I'm still not certain how I feel about my real body.) And then you get the worst ones, the girls who think they're hot, but aren't, and still act like they are. Aside from your boyband-type Jersey Shore-esque pretty boys, most guys don't think about that stuff a hundredth the amount of time a girl does in her lifetime.

That's not to say the male body doesn't have its problems. Oh sure, I don't mind being free of my monthly visitation; as proud as I was to bear that burden, it's a relief knowing that there's nothing going to be leaking out of my body each month, from a practical standpoint. I will add, however, that men who have never menstruated (which is most, but I suppose not all, in a world with the Inn Curse) don't know what they're missing, for better or worse.

But I have a really nasty habit of crossing my legs in the feminine manner. You'd think I should have adapted by now, but there are things you're just not conscious of until you realize you've held your legs in a clamplike position too long and bruised your balls. Yes, that happened. I limped around the school for days.

If you're wondering where I've been for the last month, well... I've been right here in Philadelphia, enjoying this decidedly un-Canadian winter (which isn't fair, since the report from Todd is that their winter has been mild due to El Nino. Sorry I've missed it.) I haven't been up to much. The Winter Break was uneventful, I sent small trinkets to Rob's family in the southwest, on his consultation, although he wasn't helpful (not much of a gift-giver, that one.) I stayed at home and wondered if maybe I should blog, but it occurred to me I was simply not doing anything worth blogging about. "Dear Internet, avoided catching penis in front of jeans, craving burrito." Okay, that's mildly racist, but in my defense, I love burritos as Alia too, so... there.

Oh, there was also Secret Santa. I did end up getting Don those Phillies tickets. He was very glad to get them, too. The theme of the event was partially "How 'bout them Phillies," since this was, like, right after they signed Halladay, making all the guys around the school very, very excited about their team's chances. The mood was, erm, somewhat bittersweet for me, as I am not much of a baseball fan, but I understand how devastated my hometown is by this little maneuver. But I have to play along with Phillie Fever.

I myself received a gift card and a pair of boxer shorts. Apparently the look on my face when I discovered the underpants was memorable. Cathy, my other work-friend, admitted she was the one who had picked them out for me. Without thinking how it might sound, I casually remarked, "Well, thanks for thinking about my crotch." and we laughed a little bit, but she seemed somewhat embarrassed.

Sigh. I don't know how it is with her. She jokes around a lot, but I think her unsuccessful personal life is starting to get to her, and more to the point, I'm worried she may have a bit of a thing for ole Roberto. I've been spending a lot of time with her, and I do like her company, but not... you know, that way. We carpool, because I got tired to driving Rob's car to the mechanic to get it serviced - it's pretty shot. I don't know what's wrong with it, I'm just a stupid girl who doesn't know about cars.

I theorized on these topics a few weekends ago when Cliff had come over. I don't see her as often as I feel I should, but that's partly the fault of circumstance. I work all the day and she works in the evening and she hangs out with people who are more in line with her social scene. I don't even have a social scene. Rob's social scene consists primarily of dodging drunk calls from Ingrid, Rob's ex-wife, on New Year's eve.

Though we've been in contact over MSN, I hadn't seen Cliff in months, but I called her over because one day, my computer just stopped working, and of course, in a past life, she was in computer tech.

It was a few days after I asked her that she came by, because she had to go buy a toolkit and other materials that were right at hand in her original life. I thought, if I could save a few bucks off Rob's bank account by getting his computer fixed for free, then great. I offered to contribute to the tools and such, but she said it was no bother.

She came over to the house and wet to work, perky as could be. When I had last seen her, she was morose and very uncertain in her mannerisms and her way of dressing. She was still a man trapped in a woman's body. And now? Now I guess she's a man playing a woman, not fighting it, just being. I don't know what it is. Maybe it's because she finally took to playing with herself. Maybe it's because we made reservations at the Inn this month. Maybe it's because she felt so at home working on the PC.

Like Rob's car and PC, Cliff's frustration at her predicament has broken. It's not a defeat -- being happy with who you are is never defeat (unless you're happy being a skinhead neo-Nazi or something.) Acceptance of one's situation, I think, is a victory, because until July there's nothing she can do about the contents of her panties. It was the first time I ever saw her smile.

She told me, after working on the computer for a couple of hours, that there was nothing she could do, not with the resources available, and definitely not on the cheap. So I had to get a new computer, which is what I'm using to type this to you.

"So I read about Crystal. That's messed up, someone doing that with your body?" We were drinking tea and eating cookies. "I can relate."

I shrugged, "As revolted as I am by the idea that Bryan now knows what I look like naked... it's got its benefits. Like he said, it's better him than some stranger, better someone who knows Crystal, who won't tempt her into staying. Todd's taking it a little harder than I am, because I'm down here and there's nothing I can do about it. I think Todd's disappointed that he wasn't nominated for the role of 'Guy who has sex with Crystal.' I think everyone just thinks about sex too much."

"Too much?" she scoffed, "Is that possible?"

"Sure."

"Alia, when I met you, I was a 29-year-old male virgin. I think I've earned the right to some frustration."

"Sure, and now you're a 22-year-old female virgin."

"Tori's not a virgin."

"No, but you are. And if I were you, I'd be tempted to stay that way. I don't think sexual exploration is a good idea for people like us. Todd was one thing, he had a relationship. But going out and finding someone to have sex with? Forming that kind of relationship, even when you intend to leave the body? Hell, especially when you intend to leave the body, is unfair." I was preaching maybe, but I was really just trying to make sense of my own thoughts. I was telling her about Cathy, and how certain I was that both she and Ingrid wanted Rob at least a little bit, and how I was attracted to them, but unwilling to pursue due to the complication.

"What, you've never heard of meaningless sex?" she asks.

"Of course I have. Didn't I tell you about Sean Flaherty? Oftentimes, so-called meaningless sex is more complicated than relationship sex."

"So if Cathy came to you and said, Rob, I don't want anything except meaningless sex, you wouldn't go for it?"

"No, because I know, or at least I think, I'm getting my life back, but that leaves Rob to deal with the open thread of Cathy."

"He might like Cathy."

"He might also hate Cathy. I already hate the fact that I've made as much of an impact on her as I have. He really hates his ex-wife, and she's kind of a bitch so I get it, but she's hot, so I get that, too."

She says, "That brings me to my next question." She looks straight at me and asks, "Would you... do... me?"

My eyes bulged out a little bit. I'm not going to lie, the possibility had occurred to me. Why should it be so strange? we're both in a weird situation, we both know each other, and Rob and Tori had had that association previously (and undoubtedly at some point in their current lives.)

I had already made up my mind on the subject, too, but before answering, I asked, "Is that something you'd want?"

She just said, "I don't know."

"Well, I definitely wouldn't want to be with someone who didn't know if she wanted it."

She starts to get really talkative. "Look, don't judge me, okay? I don't know what I want. I want to be back in my own body, but I'm not, and I want to be with someone. I don't think I'm a lesbian, or bi, or anything. Something is just keeping me from feeling the way about my female friends as I did about Willy when I went to Buffalo. I liked that feeling, it reminded me of the last time I was in love with a girl, which was too long ago, it reminded me of the feeling of meeting a girl and wanting to get to know her, except it was a guy, and the guy looked like me. I've never felt that comfortable with anyone, and I want to keep it, and part of that is, I want sex." She takes a breath, "And I'm embarrassed, so fucking embarrassed to try putting myself out there, because I'm scared of who or what I might wind up with, I thought I'd ask."

She continued, "And I thought, because we're in the same situation, kind of, because we're both not used to all this, maybe it would be worth a shot. Just to get it out of our systems, just to have someone to do it with, someone who understands what we really are. And then when it's all over, I go back to being Cliff and you go back to being Alia."

"I don't think you need the extra baggage."

She mutters, half-snorts, "You don't know what I need."

Things got real quiet.

"I just don't think it's healthy," I sighed, "I wouldn't feel right putting you through that."

"Even if I want it?"

"Even if you think you want it, you don't know until afterward, if anything's changed."

She looked sadly at me. She sighed, "We're having one of those blog post moments, aren't we?"

"Yeah," I said. When she never got around to posting about it, I asked if I could. So I did.

I like the way Cliff acts nowadays. She seems to be taking it in stride, and really getting into it. That said, there are doors that, once opened, can never be closed. Todd may say otherwise, but I think he agrees that sex is never just sex, especially for our kind. Todd was left with a lot of bitterness over the way Hal overdid their sexual relationship, but rarely mentions it because he thinks there's something feminine about complaining about sex -- totally not true, since the dirty little secret is that girls want sex too. We just often want it to mean something, because the feelings it leaves us with are often more... intense.

That said, I told her, it's more practical than letting her try to find her way out there. I didn't say I'd go through with it, but I did say that anytime she wanted to talk, I was here.

That's all.

-Alia/Rob

Cliff/Tori: Needs and wants

Early January, as I guess readers of this blog know, means the Inn starts taking reservations.

There was something so pulse-pounding about calling in and confirming my dates. Following Todd's advice, Alia and I have been in contact with Crystal and Willy, respectively. Willy has been so good and reassuring. Alia, as you can guess from Todd's last post, has some issues with Crystal, but they are cordial to one another. As the one of the group who works evenings rather than days, I was elected to make the call and book the block -- three sessions in the same two rooms. Greg was right about the chain links being so hard to organize, but somehow, it looks like we are going to make it.

I asked Tori about the original Costases. Apparently they have not been as good about keeping contact though, and I guess the Costases will not be able to take advantage of this situation, which is unfortunate. About Willy and Crystal's original bodies, I also have no idea. It's all I can do to focus on the people on either side of me.

As much as my credit card was reamed by the booking fees -- some paid in advance, others owe me (or Tori) some considerable cash -- when I hung up after confirming the dates (late July for yours truly) I wanted to scream with delight. I haven't imagined myself in my own body in weeks, but suddenly it's all I could think about. And suddenly all the unbearable stuff about Tori's life, Tori's body, Tori's identity, it's just something I have to wait out. I'm getting out. It's really happening. I hope.

Which kind of makes me feel a bit insecure about how I behaved over the holidays.

On New Year's Eve I was deep in Tori mode. I go through these phases where I allow my body, my current identity, to completely overrule my male instincts and thought patterns. It's been that way practically since I started being this way, but it's really been driving me nuts since Thanksgiving. It's not like I'm pretending to be something I'm not. I'm a girl, and I'm being more and more aware of what that means, trying to understand and accept the needs that go along with that.

When she was 15, Tori described, in her diaries, this intense desire to be with her friend Danny. Hell, the passion, the detail she ascribes to it comes so close to the brink of pornographic as she imagines herself messing around with him. I've behaved myself so far. I'm a responsible person, I think.

It's not fair that I don't feel as attracted to women as I used to. How did that happen? Is it because they're not acting like I should be? They act so different around me; their boobs and faces and bodies are all like I remember, but there is zero sexual tension there. I remember being pushed down against my bed in Buffalo, Willy in my body running my hands up my legs, my hands coming so close to that piece of my body I've known so well. There's nothing wrong with being a girl who wants to have a piece of a guy, right? Todd, help me out here, if you're reading.

Since I had no date, and have been outspoken about my "celibacy," I was the designated driver for Raine, Sara and Thom. We met up with Cyndi and her boyfriend Leo at a pub, a big bash there. Raine immediately goes off to work her feminine wiles. Sara and Thom split a pitcher and are all over each other by the time they order a second. Cyndi and Leo are more civil.

I was left to my own devices, saved from wallflower status only by the fact that I am a pretty girl who appears unattached in a bar. If only there was something about me as Cliff that was attractive to women as Tori's breasts are to men. That was a complicated sentence, but I think you know what I mean.

That may be the problem with boobs (I mean, now that I am used to having them and the way my clothes stretch over them and wearing a bra.) They may not be the biggest, but they're so well shaped and my cleavage was looking so good. Guys love them; I do too. I've gotten used to the eerie feeling of not being looked in the eye when men talk to me. But they don't come with a sign that says "No Jerks Allowed."

Worse yet, I haven't learned, the way some girls do, how to judge the jerks from the non-jerks right off. Some guy comes up to me and offers me a drink and I'm just like "Hey, he can't be that bad," even though I'm not drinking. And I waste the better part of an hour while this guy tells me about his car. and I know that I'm really a guy, but I'm not a car guy, and do any girls want to hear about a guy's car? And he's really glommed onto me and I don't know how to get away. I don't have the skills for this, and he smells like body spray. After a while of this, he floats the idea of sharing a midnight kiss, (with obvious implications beyond that) and Ican feel my stomach turn.

By the time he starts trying to get handsy, I'm about ready to punch him out, except I can't, I'm just cowering. Luckily, Raine somehow spotted my predicament and pulled me away to the ladies room.

"Dude, what the hell is going on with that guy?" she asked me.

"I don't know, I couldn't get away from him."

"Since when have you had a problem ditching losers? God, it's like you've totally lost your shit."

"I did lose my shit, Raine."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

I facepalm. I wanted to admit all my fakeness at this point, "I'm just... horny, and it's messing with my head."

"Well, you should've warned me. It's not safe to go out there without a game plan."

It's sad. All this scheming and conniving to get away from guys is exactly the kind of thing I hated when I was on the other side. I was the loser, I was the guy women needed to get away from. I never felt like I was getting a fair shake. But this only occurred to me afterward. At the time I was really gung ho to kick the loser to the curb.

We started dancing together to put on a show for all the horny males in the room, to intimidate them. It wasn't that long ago that when I danced I looked like a total spastic, limbs flailing in all directions. I think I've gotten a little better, or at least I don't care so much now... I know a bit more about how to work it. If you know I'm still an awkward white guy, you could still see it, but it's an improvement, and when a girl's got a little jiggle, they'll forgive it.

Then after a while of sweaty grinding, the sound cut out and the countdown began. The loser was nowhere in sight, and then somehow, maybe because she was drunk and uninhibited, Raine pulled me in and gave me a kiss (grabbing my boob for good measure.)

Well what could I do? I was all hot from the dancing and the atmosphere of the room, and generally confused anyway, so I went with it. It lasted a bit longer than it probably should have. It was a real Katy Perry moment.

And then the music starts off and she resumes her flirting with guys, ignoring me for the rest of the night, like none of it ever happened.

For the rest of the night, I was hanging out with Leo and Cyndi, who have the courtesy to refrain from pawing each other the way Sara and Thom do in public.

I didn't have the energy to go back to the dancefloor much after that, collecting up my friends around 1:30 for a relatively early ride home. Raine had found herself a guy, as per usual, so we left her. The whole way, drunk-Cyndi was verbally abusing me and Leo, which he apologized profusely for. "She gets like this." No wonder they weren't so hot and heavy at the party.

When I got home, I flopped down on the bed. I was on the brink of tears once again. I could feel my eyes watering. What a way to end 2009. There are times when I think how amazing this experience is, but as often as not it's a pain in the ass. What was I thinking? I'm not a hook-up kind of person, even in this body.

"Get ahold of yourself, Tori," I told myself... don't ask why but I find it far too awkward to refer to myself as "Cliff" even in my private moments. Cliff doesn't have long hair, doesn't have beautiful eyes, doesn't have nice tits.

I slowly peeled my shirts off. Let my jeans fall to the floor. Reaching back with one hand, I unclasped my bra, letting it fall away. I lay on my bed, letting my breasts flop upward. I rested my right hand on my left breast and began to massage and slid my left hand into my panties. I've been thinking about this for a while and it's only out of fear and awkwardness (I live in a house full of strangers who are relatives) and had to figure out on the spot where to touch, where to put my fingers, how deep to go. How fast I wanted to do it. A feeling of warmth, of excitement flushed through my body with my two hands working in rhythm... God, it was like nothing else. I wanted to scream out, but all that I could manage was a quiet, high-pitched squeal, and then... then I stopped.

I just sat up and started laughing. My sheets were damp; I needed to set them aside for laundry and get fresh ones set after cleaning off. But like I said, at that moment, I was just laughing at myself. So caught up, so carefree. Oh, God. What a moment.

Laughter gave way to embarrassment and a whole host of other mixed emotions because I couldn't help but feel like somewhere, somebody knew what I was up to. And now you all do.

It's good, though. Real good. I've got a whole seven months of it left, if I want.

Greg/Priya: Catching up on a snow day

So despite the fact that its been a week since snow covered most of the midwest, today is the first day that Adlai Stevenson Elementary has canceled school. It wanst really because of the snow, its because of a busted water main, but the same rules as a snow day apply so they sent the snow day email out to all the teachers.

This of course finally gives me some time to blog. You think having a two week vacation would give you more time to sit around and write about how you're feeling in your new body, but quite the opposite was true.

Vacation began, as I mentioned in my last post, with a snowboarding trip to Colorado with some other teachers. It was two guys and 4 girls. There was Rachel and Steve, who are married (Met at the school), Anne and Ron, who were dating, and Simone and myself, who were the 5th and 6th wheels and would be sharing a room.

Simone is a 6th grade teacher who I had barely spoken to this year, and was only a casual acquaintance of Priya's. She was actually pretty cool but not much of a snowboarder. Neither was Priya, so the plan was for the two of them to hang out on the Bunny Slopes while the more experienced snowboarders ran the more challenging slopes.

This turned out to be pretty boring for me because as Greg, I was a pretty good snowboarder, and thats hard to do growing up in Illinois where there are no hills. It took me a couple times down the mountain to figure out my balance in a new body and lower center of gravity, but after I got accustomed to that, technique took over and I was fine, much to Simone's surprise. I didnt abandon her though, and actually gave her some tips, saying I had been watching snowboarding videos on youtube for help.

At night we all met up and went to some of the local bars, and I once again discovered what happens to school teachers when you get them out of the classroom and into the world, especially 800 miles away,...they go wild. Like, college freshmen wild. I think it comes from having to spend 8 hours a day being a role model and responsibility in the life of children. Sorta like being a parent, except you get paid and your shift ends at 3.

Simone especially went wild.She didnt get very drunk, but she sure wanted to attract a lot of male attention. She wound up taking a guy back to our room, and I had to sleep in the lobby. Which wasnt very nice of her, but in my past life I prided myself on being a great wing man,and wasnt about to cockblock Simone. She thanked me the next morning, explaining that it had been a while for her and she owes me one. Women are so much more sexually assertive than I gave them credit for. At least some women. Might be a generational thing.

We got back from Colorado on the 23rd, so that everyone could spend Christmas eve with their families. However, when I called Priya's mom asking what time I should come over tomorrow she asked me what for, and then it dawned on me. Christmas, for all its commercialism, is a Christian holiday, and Priya's family isnt Christian. And they didnt celebrate Christmas.

This made me sad and philosophical at the same time. There is nothing like being cursed into the body of a totally different person to make you question your understanding of God and religion. Theology aside, I was missing out on one of my favorite holidays. I wound up buying a little fake tree and putting it in the apartment, just as kind of a reminder of who I was inside. I wound up spending much of the 25th texting Amber and hearing about her Holiday with Dee and my parents. Really made me miss her despite seeing her every day.

New Years was less depressing since its nondenominational and I was going to a party at a friends house. At least she was supposed to be a friend, id never met her before, but she knew Amber and vicariously knew Priya. It wasnt the first time id been to a party where people knew me but i didnt know them, so I managed pretty well, that was until I ran into someone I knew from just my Priya-life.

It was Will the pharmacist who Amber had set me up on an ambush date back in September. He had called me back but I never really responded with interest and he seemed to take the hint. (Amber took the hint to, since she hadnt set me up on anymore dates). He was there by himself, also a friend of the hostess. We actually talked for most of the night. We actually liked a lot of the same things so it was pretty enjoyable, until midnight.

At the stroke of 2010, Will kissed me. I was too shocked/buzzed to pull away and its not like he did anything that bad, but it still spooked me. He picked up on this and apologized and said maybe he'd call me sometime. I nodded nervously. I couldnt exactly say "sorry Will, but this girl you have so much in common with is gonna be an entirely different person in 6 months so that might put a strain on any relationship"

That also gives me a good segue in to the real reason Im writing today. Tomorrow is the opening of Inn reservations! Ive never been so excited for a day in January before, but Im all set. We found a break in our chain, but its much sadder than previous ones. About 4 "links" back, someone was transformed into the body of a 73 year old man, who died of a heart attack in his sleep. I dont know much about that person, only that its a true tragedy and probably caused a lot of anguish for the person who became him as well as the man he became. Its causing me to be extra careful and drive very slowly for the next few months.

Stay save everyone

-Greg

Todd: Mysteries part 3 -- Nothing's ever done

There are a few reasons I found it easy to be attracted to Ginessa. One, she's hot. I have a thing for exotic-looking women; if you'd ever met Alia, you'd understand. Two, we come from the same world, sort of. We understand a lot about each other on a sort-of intuitive level that is difficult to explain. Inn folk, even when they disagree, have a sort of mutual respect, at least the ones I've met. Lastly, she just seems comfortable being herself, whatever that's supposed to mean. She's very at ease in her skin, not a prim and proper lady, but one who knows how to command a situation if she wants to.

The first time we met, and often in our letters, it felt like Inn stuff was off the table for her, conversationally. In a kind of "methinks the lady protests too much" way, she wanted none of it. Once she got the sense that I was not a judgmental guy, though, I think she eased up on it. I think a lot of it is her defensiveness from being friends with Darren/Jamie, which apparently wasn't always an easy thing to handle ("I can't say too much about her, but she's getting better.")

"I just find it amazing," she told me over beers at my place, "I met you, and you were this woman, and here you are, looking completely different... I have a hard time believing it, but you're so much like I remember. It's more than a little weird."

"Having Bry around sometimes, and the blog, helped me keep track of myself."

"Can I be honest?" she says, "I'm so glad I didn't keep up on the blog. One, I'm not a writer. Two, it feels like I would've just spent the whole time beating myself up over it. Maybe I gave in early, but I'm happy, and I have been for a long time. Well, I'm not always happy, but it has nothing to do with my body."

Eventually, the way conversations go off in tangents, we began to reminisce about the moments we decided to first have sex in a female body. I told her I felt like the Universe was conspiring against me. Hal was getting his vasectomy, Anne-Marie was on my case about it, I was horny as hell. So many different signals seemed to be pointing me in the same direction. She laughed at that one, "Yeah, I know the feeling."

I asked her about her first time. She glossed over the details. I get the sense she doesn't really like talking about it. "It was a mistake. I should have waited. I mean, it was way, way too early. I was not nearly ready for it, and I barely knew the guy." It was not her husband, but it was the only other guy she had sex with. She paused a moment and smirked, "I remember when he whipped out his cock, my eyes popped out of my head, like You want me to do what? And now, heh." 'Nuff said.

We ended up going out for New Year's to a house party at a friend of Bry's and I. I watched from afar as Crystal/Alia was being chatted up by a couple of guys, trying to suppress my overprotective urges. We've had talks, and I should trust her, but I didn't. Something about her just seemed untrustworthy. And all night people kept pointing her out to me and asking if it was awkward to be around her now that "we were done." I told them nothing's ever done.

At the party, I made like Ginny was my date. She was more of a life preserver. There was a very, very attractive girl who seemed interested in me. I told her I was taken and she said it could just be our little secret. Cue Ginny, playing like she was my woman, a jealous type ready to choke a bitch getting too close to me. Bry sat morosely in the corner, and spent a lot more time talking to Crystal/Alia than I did.

At midnight, I kissed Ginny, a polite, lips-sealed grade-school type kiss. Then she got drunk and developed the amusing habit of slapping asses. Also at the party were Erica LaFleur and Sean Flaherty, but Sean has made it clear he doesn't want anything to do with me. Eric was polite enough to acknowledge me at the snack table, which is the least she could do since I impregnated her and all.

Ginny and I left early. The next morning, though, she was waiting for me in the kitchen while Bry was still conked out.

"What's up?" I asked.

With the uncertainty of a woman with a minor hangover and some bad news to tell, she said, "Listen, Todd, I wouldn't be a very good friend if I didn't tell you this, but you know how you were saying Bry had a girlfriend he wasn't introducing you to?"

"Yeah." Two posts ago, but really I'd written it sometime earlier, I wrote 'He's seeing someone, although our hours don't sync up to the point where I've met her yet.'

"Well, I saw her last night. Todd, it's Alia. I mean, Crystal."

What.

"I was trying to get to sleep. They came in at about 4, all over each other. I didn't look, but I heard their voices very clearly."

I sunk into the couch. For a while I didn't know what to say. So I asked, "Is she still here?"

"No, she left early this morning."

Hot with rage, I pounded on Bry's door, something that is strictly an emergency measure. Through the door he cursed me out before relenting and opening. When I saw his face, I didn't have any time to be subtle. I growled, "You're fucking Crystal."

He stopped in his tracks and sputtered, "Buh, wha? What makes you say that?" which is exactly what he says when he's called on his bullshit.

"Ginny saw you two last night." I looked over at her for confirmation, and she glanced away, trying to remove herself from the conflict.

Bry tried to wriggle out of it for a while, stammering things like "Is that all the proof you've got? You don't know the whole story, that's not what it is at all," before finally admitting "Well, okay, so we're... whatever. So what?"

"So what? So what?!" I'm flipping out, "You're fucking her! Do I need to spell it out for you?" I ranted and raved about boundaries and respect and all this other self-righteous stuff.

I couldn't believe Bry didn't see what was wrong with this. But he let me keep going, and when I was out of breath, he put his hands on his head like Dr. Cox, and asked if I was through. I'd thought I'd made my point pretty sufficiently, so I wanted to head what he had to say for himself.

So he says, "She's not Alia, you know."

Pause. I tell him, yeah, I know that.

"So what's the problem? You don't own her. She's not your girlfriend. She's a stranger to you. You've barely spoken to her. She thinks you hate her."

"I don't hate her," I objected.

"Well, I know, but that's what she thinks. We've gotten to know each other. She likes me. I like her. Things happen."

"You crossed a line here," I tell him.

"This is beyond your control, Todd. This is just like with Erica and Sean. That has nothing to do with you, and neither does this. She can be with anyone she wants. And you're lucky -- for fuck's sake, you are damn lucky she chose me and not, like, some stranger who doesn't know the truth. She trusts me."

"And what happens if she gets attached to you, when we have to send her away to Maine, and she doesn't want to go?"

"That's not gonna happen."

"How can you be sure?"

"Because she cares about me, Todd. Because she knows I want to help you get Alia back, and she wouldn't betray me that way. We're all on the same side here. Don't act like I'm betraying you here. It's the opposite."

I was suddenly feeling very overwhelmed. I can't remember the last time I'd felt so "put in my place."

I never thought of myself as someone who needed to control things, but my frustration at the Erica-Sean thing seems like part of this. The universe seems so big and unyielding, I want things I can command, but there's so much beyond me. It doesn't do wonders for my ego.

So I ask him, "Does Alia know about this?" He says no, he wanted to tell me first, because he know she'd end up telling me. We ended up telling her later that day. Her feelings were... mixed, to say the least. She has plenty going on in Rob's life, and she's not terribly comfortable with the idea of Bryan coupling with her body, but... well, you have to admit there's something in Bryan's logic. Whether this was something he came up with before or after his pants were off, I don't know.

It was on the 3rd of January that Ginessa headed home. The weather took a sudden turn for the colder in the New Year and Ginny took that as a sign that it was time to head home.

There's something very appealing about Ginny's life. It's not the one she was born with, but it's hers. She told me that when she was preparing to marry Gavin, she was still an ex-man doing what she had to do to survive, living in temporary solutions. It was afterward that comfort and security came, and something she calls love, when she really stopped being Mark and became Ginessa. For better or worse, she has her life, she makes decisions for herself, she is pretty much in control and doesn't rely on anything supernatural to provide for her. I hope to get back to that place as soon as I can.

But it's a long way away yet, and like I said... sometimes it feels like nothing's ever done. Maybe Ginessa proves that wrong. But I know nothing's done for me, yet.

-Todd

Todd: Mysteries part 2

How chaotic my life is that an entry I started trying to write on the 2nd didn't get posted until the 5th, and now here I am on the 7th trying to remember what happened in between.

Ginny had checked into a motel. What kind of fight she must've had with her husband that led to her wanting to make an impromptu trip north she didn't really explain, except that it was about whether or not to have kids, and that obviously it was a big deal. I helped her bring her stuff over to my place and let her crash on my couch. I forgot what it was like to have a female under your roof. I've missed it.

Nobody ever asked me if I wanted to have kids. I woke up one morning in a body that already had them. I hated it for a long time, resented the lack of control I had over my life, or what I thought should be my life. This was made easier to deal with by the fact that I did have a lot of time to myself, but I didn't have anything to do during that time except watch TV, eat and masturbate read. The rest of the time my life was controlled by the demands of the kids and husband I'd acquired, and all the little needs that went along with them. I can't believe how much I left out of this blog. A commenter noted that I seemed a lot happier when I was Anne-Marie. I think I didn't complain too much (and therefore barely spoke about it, because if I had believe me it'd be to complain) because part of me believed I deserved whatever misery I'd gotten. And part of me still believes that, because I've been a shitty boyfriend and a lazy human being. The truth is, I'm probably not those things, but far be it from me to realize that.

I probably seemed happier because I was complacent, glad to go along with whatever I had to deal with because I believed (rightly) that sooner or later it'd be over. If I woke up one day and learned that my chance to go back to the Inn was gone, I probably would've flipped my shit like nobody's business. I'm only unhappy now because of who is not in my life, in case I haven't made that clear. I think I have. I remember one time trying to corral Hayley and Connor into the car for a family gathering but Connor was playing Little Big Planet incessantly and I really lost my cool, yelling at him like some bitchy mom. Once I calmed down I freaked out privately about how out of control the whole situation had gotten, how it was affecting my behaviour. All it was was trying to get "my" kids into the car to go see family members that I don't even care about for reasons I didn't want. And somehow I was still capable of getting that irritated that easily. That's the kind of shit I didn't write about. Maybe I should have. This blog would feel a lot more complete.

I didn't, and don't, believe that the Inn affects the way one feels about things, behaves, thinks, acts, at least not in any magical way. Having lived through it, I certainly believed I was still in control of my every thought and desire, I was still the one making decisions. I only behaved differently because I was in a situation that necessitated a different type of behaviour. We know that the curse make a man into a woman physically; I believe that it's the situation that makes a man into a woman mentally. Bryan didn't want to be a girl acting girly and dating boys, so he became a tomboy who dated a girl. I wasn't going to go around finding lesbians who would want to bang a middle-aged mom, so I took what was there and convinced myself to put up with it.

Ginessa doesn't seem to have been anything other than a woman. I don't mean because she acts like a woman, I mean because she acts like she knows what she is. The morning after she first stayed over, she was sitting at my kitchen table drinking coffee and reading the newspaper, like any regular person. I remember getting to that place as Anne-Marie (Ginny must've gotten there long, long, long ago) where every day stopped being about the horror of a new life and instead about the normalcy of your own life.

I don't know how she fell in love with Gavin, I don't know how any woman falls in love with a man, especially having been one (having been a man who has had a woman in love with him, and having been a woman living with a man. Either way.) I think this baby-thing has really shaken her up, made her question her decisions, or second-guess the place those right-seeming decisions brought her. Who gets married without thinking of kids? She has to have seen this coming. It spooked her good, though.

I told her nobody asked me if I wanted to have kids, but I ended up with them, now almost for a second time. If someone had asked, I'd have said no thanks. But the truth is, being a parent is no worse than accidentally turning into someone else, and if you can handle that, you can handle anything. If you'd asked me if I'd want to spend a year as a woman, a mother, a wife, I would've laughed in your face without a moment's hesitation. And while I wasn't happy during that time, I don't regret it either. There you go, Bry. How could I? For starters, I made it back in one piece. I got an experience that extends beyond the imaginable, beyond what I can truly explain or even understand. Wouldn't have chosen to be Anne-Marie. Even if you lined up a hundred women and said I had to be one, I wouldn't have chosen to be Anne-Marie. I could've done worse, though. And I don't regret it. And I don't see Ginessa regretting a lot of her life either. But this kid thing, man! It's really got her tripped up.

Well, I think this is a problem without an easy answer. And I don't particularly do well when there ARE easy answers. Ginessa will either go back to New York and have a kid, or she'll go back to New York, fight with Gavin about it, and maybe they'll split up and she'll have to forge some new destiny for herself. Sadly, life is not a simple, straightforward story.

While she was here, she played girlfriend. Not romantic girlfriend, but "girl-friend." I indulged her in her shopping and we went to see Avatar, and I showed her the sights and introduced her to people who know about the Inn.

I hate to say this, especially considering the situation, but Ginny's the first woman I've found attractive in a long while. I mean, I see hot girls around a lot of the time but I don't approach them the way I used to, with confidence and, like, a plan. I just watch passively because I don't want to allow myself any dangerous thoughts while Alia is in Philly. Aside from Crystal/Alia and certain other people, Ginessa is the first female I have spent a significant amount of time with since getting back, and it gave me a warm feeling that was tainted by guilt. Guilt of me betraying Alia with those feelings (fleeting though they may be) and guilty of her already being on the rocks with her husband. I hate myself for the fact that, had I done anything, she wouldn't be the first married woman I'd fucked. That year. Ugh.

Once I'd acknowledged it to myself, at the end of the first very long day with her, I felt shitty. So I spilled my guts. "Ginny," I says, "I want you to know that I'm in a very vulnerable place right now, so if you're getting a weird vibe from me, just know that it's because you're just a really hot girl who is also very cool and I like spending time with you. That's all." Yeah, I've really lost my way with words.

She looks at me for a minute like she's trying to wrap her head around whatever it is I'd just said. "Todd, hun, are you saying you want to fuck me?"

"No, no, I mean, yeah who wouldn't, but I don't intend to do anything about that. I just meant it as a compliment."

She laughed a bit and sighed, "That's so wrong. Not quite as wrong as the fact that I've thought about it too, but pretty damn wrong."

"You've thought about it?"

"Sure. I mean, not seriously. I'm a married woman, for God's sake. But the idea had occurred to me that if I was going to cheat -- which I'm not -- I could do worse."

"Well... thanks." Then, since I could think of no appropriate gesture at that point, extended my hand for a shake.

She went in for a hug instead, and said quietly in my ear, "Do yourself a favour and keep it in your pants until Alia comes back." That's my New Year's Resolution.

I told Alia about this later on MSN. She replied with "Lol. You're an idiot, you know. But if you wanna come down here I wouldn't mind." I politely declined, but I'm counting the days until she makes it back to Maine.

The story of New Year's, and other stuff, is a relatively simple one, but I've spent so much time trying to make this little story into big thoughts that I should give it a rest. More later.

-Todd

Todd: Other People are Mysteries

That's what I've learned about the world since my trip to womanhood and back. I got only a fraction of the wife-mother experience, only a sliver of one woman's life and it opened up all these questions, about all women, about men, about myself. I used to want to understand women, now I don't believe such a thing is really possible. It's hard enough just trying to understand yourself. There are so many things I did when I was Anne-Marie that I don't even know why. But this isn't really about that.

Working over the holidays really got me down. My entire life became the retail world. And I like my job, inasmuch as I can enjoy a wageslave retail gig, talking about movies and music to customers who think I'm out to cheat them because I wear the uniform of a big company. It got fairly ridiculous over the holidays and there wasn't much time for me to think about anything else. I sleepwalked through Christmas with my family and made some very obligatory outings on New Year's. More on that later.

There are these kids that come into the store. I don't mean any specific kids, but it's a type of customer we have, teenagers, usually in the first couple years of high school, 15, maybe 16-year-olds. Usually in small groups of mixed boys and girls, usually it looks like at least one couple in the mix, possible their first relationship. That bums me out for whatever reason, seeing these kids with their lives ahead of them, getting the fun of a new romance for the first time in their lives. I miss that. I've thought I was in love a lot of times, but I only really was once, and she's still in Philadelphia teaching high school English.

Todd the former-woman isn't Todd the CD seller. My life has gone on. Bryan's life has. He's seeing someone, although our hours don't sync up to the point where I've met her yet. Maybe it's not serious but I do hear them fucking ever so subtly in the next room. Good for him. I know he's been in love, or at least he once told me he was, but he wasn't loved back, so he doesn't carry a torch. That is a man who knows how to get on with his life. Or maybe he still thinks of himself as a 15-year-old girl pretending as a man. Like I said, other people are a mystery -- Bryan in particular. He never got back to me about his investigation of Crystal the new Alia, beyond the name tracing to a different, more low-rent suburb of Cleveland. I think it was Cleveland Heights.

I was all super-absorbed with my own depression, and then on December 29th, a woman walks into the store. I was busy with a customer so I only caught her from the corner of my eye, but I sensed a familiar appearance. As soon as I had helped that customer, I turned my attention to this woman. She was about 5'6, dressed elegantly but warmly with a sweater, long coat and scarf, the curve of her beautiful round breasts apparent through the layers. Low rise jeans leaving just a hint of skin bare beneath the waist of her sweater -- it was a warm December in Toronto. Leather boots with low heels. Tan, light-brown skin with long brown hair pulled back demurely, small gold earrings, undecorated lips. Big purse slung over her shoulder. She looks at me uncertainly with her big brown eyes and I look back at her to signal that even though she doesn't recognize me I recognize her and I have to interpret she must have come looking for me.

She guesses, "Todd?" as if it'd be embarrassing to be wrong.

"Ginessa," I smirk, overplaying my confidence in our now-mutual recognition, "Long time no, uh, see." I had absolutely no idea how to react because apart from my sparse conversations with Bryan and my usually off-topic conversations with Alia (either Alia) the Inn has not impinged upon my day-to-day life lately.

She melts in the warmness of the situation and hugs me. "Oh my God I am so glad to see you. I'm so glad I was able to find you. When do you get off work?" It was a couple hours yet. She asked if there was a coffee place nearby where we could meet. Of course there was. This is Toronto.

While I continued to work, she browsed the store. I've never mentioned it by name, but I work in a very large CD/Music/Video Game chain store that does not exist in the States. We also sell books, but only if you like books about music or teenage vampires.

Once I clocked out, I took her down Bay Street to a favourite hole-in-the-wall non-chain coffee place I used to go often with Alia. I asked what she was doing in Toronto, she told me, obviously, she'd come to see me.

I say I haven't had the Inn impinge on my day-to-day life that much. That's true. But of course I haven't left it behind. I have had correspondence with Anne-Marie and Alia and through them I get updates on people like Cliff and the new Kalli and Julia. I have also kept a pen pal relationship with Ginessa, whom you'll no doubt remember was once a man named Mark, although that was a lifetime ago for her. I met her once in person, when I was Anne-Marie, back in March. I liked her, I admired how fully she'd seemed to move past her old life. She'd gotten married, although it was technically a green card marriage, she professed she did love her husband Gavin. Our mutual friend was Darren/Jaime, whom I haven't kept in contact with, not through dislike, but I suspect she probably didn't care for me goofing on her.

Ginessa and I were able to bond despite our differences, though, because we had both given in to certain parts of the change. Hers was permanent, mine wasn't -- I hadn't thought it was when we met, and wasn't distressed. Jaime was still stuck in a place where she couldn't seem to admit it if it was. Ginessa, once an aspiring football star, was now a clubbing, would-be actress wife. And it didn't seem to bother her.

Didn't seem to.

She didn't express a lot of discontent in our infrequent letters. She'd vent about Gavin's particular habits, apparently he's a fussy guy (to be a stage director, I guess you'd have to be) and bemoan what she considered to be a sometimes one-sided sex-life. I wondered whether she missed sex from the male perspective the way I did. The female orgasm is nice, but elusive, and there's something really cool about being "in control." Not that women are never in control. Anything can be both ways, and everything is a mystery, like I've said.

But she didn't run away from her husband because of sex. Not directly. She did it because, after three years of marriage, the fact that they had barely discussed children seemed to be eating away at him. It was clear this wasn't just a marriage of convenience, it was a relationship, and he wanted it all.

"And you?" I asked?

She sighed. "I don't know what I want anymore. I don't know if I ever did. I used to think every woman, deep down, wanted to settle down and have babies, and it was their job to convince the man to go along with it. Now I'm a woman, I'd be the one getting pregnant, giving birth, and the idea is too much for me to handle."

"You've been a woman for years, did you really never think about it?"

"Of course I thought about it. But when Gavin suggested I go off the pill, it got real."

"Do you think this has something to do with... the inn? Your old life?"

She hissed, "I'm not Mark anymore. I don't want to go back to the Inn. I'm done with it. I used to have to repeat that to Jaime-- I used to have to repeat it to myself, even before that."

"I know."

"You never gave up on the idea that you were Todd, though. I like being Ginessa. God, if 20-year-old me heard me saying that, he'd kick my ass... if he wasn't against hitting girls. I just don't want this to change."

"Tell him now isn't the right time."

"I can't do that. Financially, we're amazing. Gavin's union has good benefits. We're in love, the sex is great... well, it's good. I'm hot."

"Yeah, you're hot all right."

"I don't want to be a pregnant lady. I don't want this to ruin my relationship with Gavin. I don't want to raise a kid!"

The more she talked, the more I sensed it actually was about the Inn, but that's just my interpretation. Not that she didn't want to be female, but maybe she felt like if things got too real, she could go back and roll the dice again. A lot of (horribly unprincipled) people seem to use it as an exit strategy to their crappy lives. Ginny's life doesn't seem so crappy. But maybe being an Inn-survivor makes you a bit of a commitment-phobe.

I told her, "Did you know I almost cheated on Hal?"

"What?"

It's true. A few months before Bryan and I went back to the Inn, I met a guy named Jack. Not long after that, Hal's father got sick and for whatever reason he decided to express his stress with excessive fucking. And I went along with it because by that point I had this whole philosophy about putting his needs before my own hang-ups because hey, it's not really my life. But things were getting out of control and I needed something of my own.

I liked Jack, the way a dude admires another dude. The poor guy was heartbroken and he seemed nice, smart, kinda charming. So I sent him Anne-Marie's way -- at the time she was "Julia," struggling to keep the reins on "Kalli." She indulged him in a few dates but as far as I know was not overly into the idea of seeing someone. Since I had a friendly connection to him, he complained to me of his sexual inadequacy. I almost fucked him, just to cheer him up.

I told Ginny that a part of me regretted not doing it, because it would've been at least as honest, if not moreso, than fucking Hal. Hell, it would've been far more honest than fucking Donna. But I didn't, obviously, because I didn't want to fuck up someone else's life.

"But you've got your own life, now," I told her. "This is your life to fuck up. But you can't keep things going. Maybe one of you will relent on the kid thing, or maybe you'll end up divorced. I'm definitely not the one to give you advice."

"I know you're not," she smiled, "That's why I like ya, Todd. You get it."

The issue, of course, was far from resolved, and Ginny is still at my place, crashing on my couch... I have a lot more catching up to do with this blog, so stay tuned. But I've got to go to work right now.

-Todd