Meghan - the girl I met the other day - knew of a nice little bar where we could sit and chat, although we found ourselves yelling over the band, so my voice is a little hoarse. It was a good evening, though. We played darts, and I mused about how odd it was that bars still encourage people to get liquored up and play with sharp objects.
"Tradition can be a powerful force," she reasoned. I agreed.
Eventually, her friends showed up and we made it a double date, although I felt a little shut out. Maybe I'm just a little self-conscious, being the non-academic type. I'm not an idiot, but I'm an uneducated SOB compared to these people. Really, I just think it was because I was the new guy, the fish out of water, and Meghan has known Jess and Erik for years.
Afterwards, Meghan and I went for another walk. It was very romantic, with the dim lighting and the sound of waves lapping in the distance. After a while we just sort of stopped talking and I got real nervous. So I did what I always do in these situations... I fucked it up.
I stopped in my tracks, put my hand on her shoulder and gave her a kiss.
She seemed startled. And a little embarrassed. She pecked back, but it wasn't exactly a big passionate moment. In fact, she slipped a little, with her bad knee, which made me feel bad.
"Sorry," she said, "I just wasn't expecting that. I'm not really sure what I'm doing here right now. Sorry if that's confusing."
"It's confusing," I admitted, "But you don't have to be sorry."
"It's just, this setting, us alone, the fantasy aspect of a tall, dark stranger... it's a lot to process. You can get lost in the moment pretty easily and I'm just not sure I should be looking for a vacation fling."
"I respect that," I sighed.
We started to walk back, "For the record," she said, "I'm not saying no. Just not sure it's a yes yet."
What can I say? Women.
After I got back to the Inn there was more weirdness, with basically everyone else shut up in their rooms. Like, guys, it's just after midnight. You're on vacation. Live a little.
I got a text from my little sister Carrie, who was wondering what I was up to. I'm not on bad terms with my family, but she's probably the only one I would want knowing my whereabouts. And truth be told, a vacation might do her good, so I suggested she find her way up here from Alabama if she can. It was more of a courtesy invite, though. I know money's tight for her, and I doubt she has a vacation fund.
Wednesday, May 21, 2014
Monday, May 19, 2014
Tyler: Breaking the ice
She was back today, so I went to talk to her. "Ugh," I said after taking a sip. "The coffee's really off today."
After a pause, she looked up at me. "I wouldn't know. This is tea."
"Oh, yeah? What kind?"
"I don't know, it has some big name... it has cinnamon in it though, I think."
"You don't know what's in it? Must be some kind of risk taker."
"Some kind, yeah," she nodded, then went back to her book.
I felt a little disappointed in myself as I kept sipping, having used up my one chance at a conversation.
"If you don't like it," she said suddenly, as if she had pondered the issue, "You should go complain."
"Nah," I said, "I don't wanna be a bother."
"So, you're not from around here," she said, picking up on my accent.
"No ma'am," I said with my flashiest southern smile.
"I'm guessing New York?" she said jokingly.
"I often get mistaken for Jerry Seinfeld on the phone," I said. She giggled.
Success!
"Alabama," I said. "Needed a nice change of scenery. How about you?"
"Not far, Vermont," she said. "I'm working on my Masters at UVM. Enjoying my summer break."
"Ah, Vermont, the land of maple syrup and... people from Vermont." I cleared my throat a bit, "What are you reading?"
"The new Michael Chabon. Well, new-ish. I swore I was going to get around to it someday."
"Any good?"
"Of course. Do you know him?"
"No. And I've never read his work, either." That was supposed to be a joke. I recovered, though, and once she realized I was a pretty safe guy, I mentioned I was thinking of taking a walk and does she know the area?
"Sure, let me just text my friends to let them know who took me if I get kidnapped," she snapped a picture of me on her iPhone. I gave a big, possibly creepy thumb's up.
We stood up and I was surprised to see her produce a cane from behind her seat. She noticed my eyes widening, which was embarrassing.
"Ah, now you're scared. You don't know what to do about this and you're in too deep to back out," she smirked.
"Oh, I just... I've never seen... uh, what's up?" I stammered idiotically.
"I was in a car accident a few years ago," she said, "I need a knee replacement, but it's hard to find the time or the money. Don't worry, I can totally walk, I'm not a pity case."
"Good, um, as long as you're comfortable."
"I'm comfortable," she said. "Let's just avoid any obstacle courses, okay?"
"Okay."
As we walked along the pier, we talked about a few things, then I asked about her tattoos.
On one arm was "Take these broken wings and learn to fly," and on the other "You were only waiting for this moment to arrive"
"I was going through a Beatles phase a a while ago," she explained.
"Ah yes," I said, "George, Ringo, and those two other guys." She did a cute snort-laugh. "I bet you thought I was more of a Keith Urban guy."
"I don't know what to think of you," she said, "But I'm starting to figure it out."
She was staying at the Days Inn. I mentioned I was staying at the Trading Post, and she asked "Is it nice? I've been here a few times and I've never known anyone who stayed there."
"It's cozy. Very old-fashioned. Weird that they take singles, it seems like a more natural couples place, and that makes it a little creepy, I guess."
"Yeah, my situation isn't much better. I'm staying with couple friends, and having one room makes me the ultimate third wheel."
"Well, I'm happy to provide distraction so you don't have to go face that," I said.
I ended up getting her phone number and a vague agreement to "do something" tomorrow. I'm worried that after spending a whole afternoon together, I'll be all out of material. But the good thing about living like a total vagrant for half your twenties is that you end up with a lot of good stories.
The Inn has started to fill up... with some pretty random people. They all seem to know each other, too. I saw them having what appeared to be a gathering in the common room when I got back. When I passed through, they immediately quieted up and watched me until I got to my room.
And here I thought Maine was full of good down-home folks.
After a pause, she looked up at me. "I wouldn't know. This is tea."
"Oh, yeah? What kind?"
"I don't know, it has some big name... it has cinnamon in it though, I think."
"You don't know what's in it? Must be some kind of risk taker."
"Some kind, yeah," she nodded, then went back to her book.
I felt a little disappointed in myself as I kept sipping, having used up my one chance at a conversation.
"If you don't like it," she said suddenly, as if she had pondered the issue, "You should go complain."
"Nah," I said, "I don't wanna be a bother."
"So, you're not from around here," she said, picking up on my accent.
"No ma'am," I said with my flashiest southern smile.
"I'm guessing New York?" she said jokingly.
"I often get mistaken for Jerry Seinfeld on the phone," I said. She giggled.
Success!
"Alabama," I said. "Needed a nice change of scenery. How about you?"
"Not far, Vermont," she said. "I'm working on my Masters at UVM. Enjoying my summer break."
"Ah, Vermont, the land of maple syrup and... people from Vermont." I cleared my throat a bit, "What are you reading?"
"The new Michael Chabon. Well, new-ish. I swore I was going to get around to it someday."
"Any good?"
"Of course. Do you know him?"
"No. And I've never read his work, either." That was supposed to be a joke. I recovered, though, and once she realized I was a pretty safe guy, I mentioned I was thinking of taking a walk and does she know the area?
"Sure, let me just text my friends to let them know who took me if I get kidnapped," she snapped a picture of me on her iPhone. I gave a big, possibly creepy thumb's up.
We stood up and I was surprised to see her produce a cane from behind her seat. She noticed my eyes widening, which was embarrassing.
"Ah, now you're scared. You don't know what to do about this and you're in too deep to back out," she smirked.
"Oh, I just... I've never seen... uh, what's up?" I stammered idiotically.
"I was in a car accident a few years ago," she said, "I need a knee replacement, but it's hard to find the time or the money. Don't worry, I can totally walk, I'm not a pity case."
"Good, um, as long as you're comfortable."
"I'm comfortable," she said. "Let's just avoid any obstacle courses, okay?"
"Okay."
As we walked along the pier, we talked about a few things, then I asked about her tattoos.
On one arm was "Take these broken wings and learn to fly," and on the other "You were only waiting for this moment to arrive"
"I was going through a Beatles phase a a while ago," she explained.
"Ah yes," I said, "George, Ringo, and those two other guys." She did a cute snort-laugh. "I bet you thought I was more of a Keith Urban guy."
"I don't know what to think of you," she said, "But I'm starting to figure it out."
She was staying at the Days Inn. I mentioned I was staying at the Trading Post, and she asked "Is it nice? I've been here a few times and I've never known anyone who stayed there."
"It's cozy. Very old-fashioned. Weird that they take singles, it seems like a more natural couples place, and that makes it a little creepy, I guess."
"Yeah, my situation isn't much better. I'm staying with couple friends, and having one room makes me the ultimate third wheel."
"Well, I'm happy to provide distraction so you don't have to go face that," I said.
I ended up getting her phone number and a vague agreement to "do something" tomorrow. I'm worried that after spending a whole afternoon together, I'll be all out of material. But the good thing about living like a total vagrant for half your twenties is that you end up with a lot of good stories.
The Inn has started to fill up... with some pretty random people. They all seem to know each other, too. I saw them having what appeared to be a gathering in the common room when I got back. When I passed through, they immediately quieted up and watched me until I got to my room.
And here I thought Maine was full of good down-home folks.
Sunday, May 18, 2014
Tyler Blake: Titles Go Here
There was a girl back in Alabama who would have married me if I asked. In a heartbeat.
That's what you do down there. You get married out of high school, or if you're studious, while you're in College. You meet someone, you settle down, and then... well, you're settled. I know so many people who just didn't take the time to think about it. I know people who were divorced before 25. I don't mean everybody got married or even got married "too" early, just enough that as I approach 30 and have no plans to get married, most of the people I knew, especially in my family, see me as a black sheep.
I dated this girl for about four years, starting when I was 21. I think the question of marriage first came up after one. Well, she started dancing around it even earlier but I either didn't notice or played it off. And I liked her just fine, but I think I equated marriage with settling down and basically becoming dead, and I didn't feel like I had lived yet. From there, it was a matter of waffling, waiting to see if my feelings changed, stringing her along while I collected reasons not to marry her. Look, I didn't say I was a world class human being. I had shit to figure out. I still do.
I tend to think she never got over me, but she hopefully has. I do know she's been seeing someone, and maybe they're married by now. I haven't checked. I'm not the sort of person who stays Facebook friends after a breakup, you know?
Since then, I've dated here and there, hooked up, pined, and done just about everything except had an actual loving relationship. Now and then, I feel regret for not marrying her, but the smallest part of me pipes up and reminds me I wasn't in a place to do that. It was the smart play. Not the nice one, but the smart one. Sometimes you've got to be ruthless in life.
Ouch, I am not making myself look good here. So let's talk about the reason for this flashback. The girl I saw - pardon me, the woman.
I saw her outside a cafe, when I was stopping by for a bit of hangover cure.
She seemed like a classic East Coast intellectual, which, let's face it, really does something for me or else I probably wouldn't have come here. Short, unevenly cut dark hair, glasses, the faintest sight of tattoo under her forearm - not a white trash biker chick tattoo, but a "I'm really finding myself in college" phase tattoo. Something written in script, but I couldn't read it. She was reading a really thick novel.
There was only two tables outside. I was planning on taking a walk while I sipped my coffee, but after she caught my eye I decided to take the other one. I sat and sipped and stared off in deep thought in every direction except hers, trying to appear interested in my surroundings instead of her. I was wearing sunglasses, though, so hopefully she didn't notice me shifting my glance over to her every so often. Although I thought I saw her glance back at least once.
Hopefully tomorrow she'll be back. And hopefully I'll get the balls to actually talk to her. I have no idea what about. Maybe she likes guys with McConnaughey accents. He's from Texas, but I'm betting folks up here don't see much of a difference.
Oh, and who do I speak to about the stranger's luggage that was left in my room? Is there just no lost and found? Am I supposed to babysit it? How... trusting.
That's what you do down there. You get married out of high school, or if you're studious, while you're in College. You meet someone, you settle down, and then... well, you're settled. I know so many people who just didn't take the time to think about it. I know people who were divorced before 25. I don't mean everybody got married or even got married "too" early, just enough that as I approach 30 and have no plans to get married, most of the people I knew, especially in my family, see me as a black sheep.
I dated this girl for about four years, starting when I was 21. I think the question of marriage first came up after one. Well, she started dancing around it even earlier but I either didn't notice or played it off. And I liked her just fine, but I think I equated marriage with settling down and basically becoming dead, and I didn't feel like I had lived yet. From there, it was a matter of waffling, waiting to see if my feelings changed, stringing her along while I collected reasons not to marry her. Look, I didn't say I was a world class human being. I had shit to figure out. I still do.
I tend to think she never got over me, but she hopefully has. I do know she's been seeing someone, and maybe they're married by now. I haven't checked. I'm not the sort of person who stays Facebook friends after a breakup, you know?
Since then, I've dated here and there, hooked up, pined, and done just about everything except had an actual loving relationship. Now and then, I feel regret for not marrying her, but the smallest part of me pipes up and reminds me I wasn't in a place to do that. It was the smart play. Not the nice one, but the smart one. Sometimes you've got to be ruthless in life.
Ouch, I am not making myself look good here. So let's talk about the reason for this flashback. The girl I saw - pardon me, the woman.
I saw her outside a cafe, when I was stopping by for a bit of hangover cure.
She seemed like a classic East Coast intellectual, which, let's face it, really does something for me or else I probably wouldn't have come here. Short, unevenly cut dark hair, glasses, the faintest sight of tattoo under her forearm - not a white trash biker chick tattoo, but a "I'm really finding myself in college" phase tattoo. Something written in script, but I couldn't read it. She was reading a really thick novel.
There was only two tables outside. I was planning on taking a walk while I sipped my coffee, but after she caught my eye I decided to take the other one. I sat and sipped and stared off in deep thought in every direction except hers, trying to appear interested in my surroundings instead of her. I was wearing sunglasses, though, so hopefully she didn't notice me shifting my glance over to her every so often. Although I thought I saw her glance back at least once.
Hopefully tomorrow she'll be back. And hopefully I'll get the balls to actually talk to her. I have no idea what about. Maybe she likes guys with McConnaughey accents. He's from Texas, but I'm betting folks up here don't see much of a difference.
Oh, and who do I speak to about the stranger's luggage that was left in my room? Is there just no lost and found? Am I supposed to babysit it? How... trusting.
Friday, May 16, 2014
Tyler Blake:
It was either gonna be Portland, Oregon or Portland, Maine. Either way I had to get out of the south, by as far as I could go.
That's a pretty good opening line, if I do say so. Sorry, I just spent a really long time thinking about it. It's true, too. I have some complicated feelings about the South. The land that raised me. A land that, right now, I wouldn't mind never going back to. I never felt like I belonged in Mobile, Alabama. Beautiful city, underrated Mardi Gras, great people... well, goodhearted people. They mean well. I didn't always feel like I fit in there, even though it was my hometown. I ignored it as long as I could, but I couldn't help fighting with my father, my brothers, my neighbors, my superiors in the National Guard.
About that: I was getting out of high school 10 years ago and I wanted to serve but I didn't believe in anything we were doing overseas, so I joined the NG. At 6' tall and relatively athletic, I was physically suited for it. I liked the routine, the regiment, the sense of purpose, and I probably needed the discipline... until I didn't like it. Counted the days until I could walk away. And now here I am.
I don't mean to make this a rant against the south or the military for that matter. It's basically all I've ever known, and that starts to wear on you after a while, you know? The differences between me and my surroundings started to become too difficult to ignore.
Call me a romantic, or a wannabe poet, but I had this elevated view of the Northeast. The center of culture. Camelot, Harvard, Robert Frost... Stephen King, maybe? Some vague interest in this place. I was working as a short order cook in Mississippi when a last-minute opportunity presented itself to fill a vacant room here (what, you don't search CraigsList for cheap travel deals?) and I quit basically on the spot to go. It's not that I really wanted to be here, but... where the hell else was I gonna go?
So now I'm here and I only kind of regret it. On the way up, I saw a lot of pasture, cows, some maple trees... I think I may have missed the boat not going for New York, or Chicago or something, somewhere with a lot of culture and constant activity.
Instead, I traded one sleepy coastal town for another one on the other corner of the country. The Inn I'm staying at is rustic, very turn-of-the-century and I'm not talking 2000. Stiff beds, drafty, creaky rooms in the cool, rainy Maine air... and only the faintest whiff of WiFi coming in from a nearby establishment. Which is odd. Think about it. The first thing I found in my room was a card inviting me to blog my "entire experience" on this "online guestbook" (really just a blog from the look of things) for some kind of ongoing art project or whatever but there isn't even any on-site web access besides an old dialup modem. Still, it's something to pass the time, even if I end up just blogging about blogging. They recommended starting with a bit about who I am and what brought me here, so here you are.
At least here I'm far enough from family that they can't stop by to check on me if I haven't answered my phone.
Speaking of which... a few messages from dad already. Love the guy, but, ah, I'll have to get back to him.
Once I've decided whether to tell my family where I am.
But first... drinks.
That's a pretty good opening line, if I do say so. Sorry, I just spent a really long time thinking about it. It's true, too. I have some complicated feelings about the South. The land that raised me. A land that, right now, I wouldn't mind never going back to. I never felt like I belonged in Mobile, Alabama. Beautiful city, underrated Mardi Gras, great people... well, goodhearted people. They mean well. I didn't always feel like I fit in there, even though it was my hometown. I ignored it as long as I could, but I couldn't help fighting with my father, my brothers, my neighbors, my superiors in the National Guard.
About that: I was getting out of high school 10 years ago and I wanted to serve but I didn't believe in anything we were doing overseas, so I joined the NG. At 6' tall and relatively athletic, I was physically suited for it. I liked the routine, the regiment, the sense of purpose, and I probably needed the discipline... until I didn't like it. Counted the days until I could walk away. And now here I am.
I don't mean to make this a rant against the south or the military for that matter. It's basically all I've ever known, and that starts to wear on you after a while, you know? The differences between me and my surroundings started to become too difficult to ignore.
Call me a romantic, or a wannabe poet, but I had this elevated view of the Northeast. The center of culture. Camelot, Harvard, Robert Frost... Stephen King, maybe? Some vague interest in this place. I was working as a short order cook in Mississippi when a last-minute opportunity presented itself to fill a vacant room here (what, you don't search CraigsList for cheap travel deals?) and I quit basically on the spot to go. It's not that I really wanted to be here, but... where the hell else was I gonna go?
So now I'm here and I only kind of regret it. On the way up, I saw a lot of pasture, cows, some maple trees... I think I may have missed the boat not going for New York, or Chicago or something, somewhere with a lot of culture and constant activity.
Instead, I traded one sleepy coastal town for another one on the other corner of the country. The Inn I'm staying at is rustic, very turn-of-the-century and I'm not talking 2000. Stiff beds, drafty, creaky rooms in the cool, rainy Maine air... and only the faintest whiff of WiFi coming in from a nearby establishment. Which is odd. Think about it. The first thing I found in my room was a card inviting me to blog my "entire experience" on this "online guestbook" (really just a blog from the look of things) for some kind of ongoing art project or whatever but there isn't even any on-site web access besides an old dialup modem. Still, it's something to pass the time, even if I end up just blogging about blogging. They recommended starting with a bit about who I am and what brought me here, so here you are.
At least here I'm far enough from family that they can't stop by to check on me if I haven't answered my phone.
Speaking of which... a few messages from dad already. Love the guy, but, ah, I'll have to get back to him.
Once I've decided whether to tell my family where I am.
But first... drinks.
Monday, May 12, 2014
Cal/Angie: "Plans"
I can't tell right now whether I'm bad at being a girl, bad at relationships in general, or if it's totally not my fault. I guess it's past time for caring.
The clock is ticking, with less than a month before I get on a plane, fly back to my home country and hopefully back to my body or at least out of this one. Why should it matter what happens to me as Angie? I knew this thing with Dave wasn't going to last.
Problems between me and David started cropping up when I piped up about a few of my complains about his, um, sex-making style. "Hey man, would you mind taking it slow for a change? Take care of some things for me?"
Instead of agreeing this might be a nice idea, he just grunted, rolled his eyes and started to unload a bunch of his complaints about me. I could dress sexier, be flirtier at work, go down on him more enthusiastically (which is a major case of glass houses for him) let him put it in my butt (um NO.) This led to a huge fight, and in the middle of the fight I basically stopped us to say "Wait, why the fuck are we fighting? We're not even really dating."
He said I started it. Then I said I was gonna finish it and told him to get out. This was Friday night.
I was bitter all day Saturday, which only made things worse on Sunday... see, with all my personal drama lately I haven't given much thought to actually living Angie's life, which meant showing up for the Mother's Day celebration with her four siblings. Apparently the others were annoyed I had removed myself from the planning, and the entire day was as pleasurable as going to the dentist. It was the absolute last place I wanted to be, an all-day event with a woman I barely know, pretending to gush over what a great mom she is. It was hard, reminded me that I'm not at home in my own body, and I wanted to bail very badly.
My shit mood followed me home, and I considered contacting David to make nice. But when my finger was hovering over his profile image in my contacts, I was shaking with rage so badly I just kept scrolling until I hit "Robbie."
I don't know what I was thinking, exactly, I just didn't want to be alone. So very tactfully, I asked if he wanted to hang out, with "No funny business, promise." He texted back sure, and within twenty minutes was at my door.
We ended up walking around the city and I unloaded to him about how glad I would be to stop being Angie and how angry I was that I let myself get so worked up over a guy. Over a guy! Shit! Sometimes, the thought of what I let him do to me, and what I let myself do to him, makes my skin crawl. And sometimes I just want more of it.
The talk was helpful and quickly became drinks. And it was just nice to be with a guy who wasn't waiting to pounce on me, laughing and hanging out.
"I just think I'm not a guy's guy..." I muttered as we headed up to my apartment, "I like that I could be in a girl's body and suddenly dudes that didn't wanna be friends with Cal wanted to talk to Angie, and I like it. Is that sick?"
"Not at all," he said back, also pretty intoxicated. "It's like a power trip sometimes, these bodies... these disguises. They empower us. I feel like I could do anything."
"But you don't!" I said, "That's what I like about you. And you know why you don't? Because with great power..."
"Comes great responsibility," he finished. "I know, I saw that movie. It's not easy, though. Being around you girls... it's been crazy not to try anything."
"So why don't you?" I asked.
"Because it's an illusion," he said. "Soon it's just going to... go back."
"But it's not an illusion," I said... running my hand up and down his arm. I saw his waist flinch as his little buddy stood straight up. "This is real. I'm real. And we don't have a lot of time left."
"You're drunk."
"Not that drunk," I said. And I leaned up on my tiptoes and kissed him. And he kissed back.
We stood there in the hallway kissing a while. I felt his hands running over my body, hungrily. He wanted it. I could tell for a long time that he did and now I was finally getting him to admit it. I was already starting to get wet. Being with someone who knows you that way, someone who's been where I've been... that's so much more exciting than what I had been doing with David.
Once we came up for air, I said "We could go inside."
He took a big sigh. "I'll talk to you tomorrow. We'll figure this out."
I don't regret anything about that. In my first/normal/male life I never went after anything I wanted. Right now I have a chance and if I don't succeed, well... at this point I've seen some stuff and that will definitely tide me over.
Now, of course, I just keep checking my phone.
The clock is ticking, with less than a month before I get on a plane, fly back to my home country and hopefully back to my body or at least out of this one. Why should it matter what happens to me as Angie? I knew this thing with Dave wasn't going to last.
Problems between me and David started cropping up when I piped up about a few of my complains about his, um, sex-making style. "Hey man, would you mind taking it slow for a change? Take care of some things for me?"
Instead of agreeing this might be a nice idea, he just grunted, rolled his eyes and started to unload a bunch of his complaints about me. I could dress sexier, be flirtier at work, go down on him more enthusiastically (which is a major case of glass houses for him) let him put it in my butt (um NO.) This led to a huge fight, and in the middle of the fight I basically stopped us to say "Wait, why the fuck are we fighting? We're not even really dating."
He said I started it. Then I said I was gonna finish it and told him to get out. This was Friday night.
I was bitter all day Saturday, which only made things worse on Sunday... see, with all my personal drama lately I haven't given much thought to actually living Angie's life, which meant showing up for the Mother's Day celebration with her four siblings. Apparently the others were annoyed I had removed myself from the planning, and the entire day was as pleasurable as going to the dentist. It was the absolute last place I wanted to be, an all-day event with a woman I barely know, pretending to gush over what a great mom she is. It was hard, reminded me that I'm not at home in my own body, and I wanted to bail very badly.
My shit mood followed me home, and I considered contacting David to make nice. But when my finger was hovering over his profile image in my contacts, I was shaking with rage so badly I just kept scrolling until I hit "Robbie."
I don't know what I was thinking, exactly, I just didn't want to be alone. So very tactfully, I asked if he wanted to hang out, with "No funny business, promise." He texted back sure, and within twenty minutes was at my door.
We ended up walking around the city and I unloaded to him about how glad I would be to stop being Angie and how angry I was that I let myself get so worked up over a guy. Over a guy! Shit! Sometimes, the thought of what I let him do to me, and what I let myself do to him, makes my skin crawl. And sometimes I just want more of it.
The talk was helpful and quickly became drinks. And it was just nice to be with a guy who wasn't waiting to pounce on me, laughing and hanging out.
"I just think I'm not a guy's guy..." I muttered as we headed up to my apartment, "I like that I could be in a girl's body and suddenly dudes that didn't wanna be friends with Cal wanted to talk to Angie, and I like it. Is that sick?"
"Not at all," he said back, also pretty intoxicated. "It's like a power trip sometimes, these bodies... these disguises. They empower us. I feel like I could do anything."
"But you don't!" I said, "That's what I like about you. And you know why you don't? Because with great power..."
"Comes great responsibility," he finished. "I know, I saw that movie. It's not easy, though. Being around you girls... it's been crazy not to try anything."
"So why don't you?" I asked.
"Because it's an illusion," he said. "Soon it's just going to... go back."
"But it's not an illusion," I said... running my hand up and down his arm. I saw his waist flinch as his little buddy stood straight up. "This is real. I'm real. And we don't have a lot of time left."
"You're drunk."
"Not that drunk," I said. And I leaned up on my tiptoes and kissed him. And he kissed back.
We stood there in the hallway kissing a while. I felt his hands running over my body, hungrily. He wanted it. I could tell for a long time that he did and now I was finally getting him to admit it. I was already starting to get wet. Being with someone who knows you that way, someone who's been where I've been... that's so much more exciting than what I had been doing with David.
Once we came up for air, I said "We could go inside."
He took a big sigh. "I'll talk to you tomorrow. We'll figure this out."
I don't regret anything about that. In my first/normal/male life I never went after anything I wanted. Right now I have a chance and if I don't succeed, well... at this point I've seen some stuff and that will definitely tide me over.
Now, of course, I just keep checking my phone.
Thursday, May 08, 2014
Cal/Angie: Sex ruins everything
We're getting very close to the end of the line here. Our return trip to the Inn is the weekend of June 14. So just over a month before I get to be me again. You'd think I'd be excited. I'm terrified.
I don't really know what I'm going back to. The new me assured me things are a-okay, that he deferred my enrollment until fall 2014, worked, built up a lot of funds, some credit... kept things "under control." Somehow this is scary to me. I don't know the details. If there was some disaster to report, I could feel safe knowing that my panic was justified. It can't be that easy.
By comparison... I look at what I'm leaving. A good body, a good life... one that I've almost made too good. I am just getting good at Angie's job at the holistic store. I am very friendly with my roommates - we eat dinner together almost every night. I've gotten a sneak-peek at life after school, and it's fun. Not very successful, but fun and free.
Then there's David. I can't even think about it without getting a stress headache. What have I done. That was my biggest fuck-up of being Angie, hooking up with David. For so many reasons.
I feel like it's inevitable that I'm going to leave a mess for Angie to clean up when she gets back. David was a friend of hers, and I used him for my own... pleasure? Curiosity? I'm not sure it makes a difference to him. The problem is, I took their relationship to this level, and I don't think you can just go back.
I feel grossed out by myself whenever we do it, not because I like it (I'm over that, mostly,) but because I'm not asking for more from him. Quality time. Dates. Companionship. I've realized that he's not someone that I would date, even among all men, if I'm into that (more on this later) that while he's an okay (at best) sex partner, outside the bedroom, he's just too much of a stoner hippie to be compatible with me. He always seems to be in a bit of a druggy haze.
Not that I'm miss goody two shoes myself. I smoke now, weed at least. I like it. It makes me feel so at peace, which believe me, I need for this situation. We share a joint before screwing, and it helps his, erm... staying power. And it makes me all tingly and relaxed.
But there's a difference between smoking at the end of a day, and smoking as soon as you get out of bed. It makes him really dull company. You could even say that I smoke partly because I need to get down to his level before I can let him do anything, but the truth is I could never get to his level.
Ugh, complain, complain, complain... I feel like such an asshole. This situation is really my making. If I never let him touch me in the first place, I wouldn't be having this conversation. But what was I supposed to do? After a certain point, sex became all I could think about. I lie awake in bed at night fondling my tits and wishing someone, anyone else, were there, male or female. I didn't know girls could get like that, but then again, I guess I'm only partly a girl.
Well, the part that counts.
I have to end it. I have to, because it's not fair if I leave it for Angie to resolve. But with the routine I've gotten into, I feel like I'm going to leave it for the last possible moment.
Life was easier when I wasn't getting laid, didn't want to get laid, couldn't get laid. Sex has ruined me. If I stayed female more than another month I worry what I'd end up turning into.
I don't really know what I'm going back to. The new me assured me things are a-okay, that he deferred my enrollment until fall 2014, worked, built up a lot of funds, some credit... kept things "under control." Somehow this is scary to me. I don't know the details. If there was some disaster to report, I could feel safe knowing that my panic was justified. It can't be that easy.
By comparison... I look at what I'm leaving. A good body, a good life... one that I've almost made too good. I am just getting good at Angie's job at the holistic store. I am very friendly with my roommates - we eat dinner together almost every night. I've gotten a sneak-peek at life after school, and it's fun. Not very successful, but fun and free.
Then there's David. I can't even think about it without getting a stress headache. What have I done. That was my biggest fuck-up of being Angie, hooking up with David. For so many reasons.
I feel like it's inevitable that I'm going to leave a mess for Angie to clean up when she gets back. David was a friend of hers, and I used him for my own... pleasure? Curiosity? I'm not sure it makes a difference to him. The problem is, I took their relationship to this level, and I don't think you can just go back.
I feel grossed out by myself whenever we do it, not because I like it (I'm over that, mostly,) but because I'm not asking for more from him. Quality time. Dates. Companionship. I've realized that he's not someone that I would date, even among all men, if I'm into that (more on this later) that while he's an okay (at best) sex partner, outside the bedroom, he's just too much of a stoner hippie to be compatible with me. He always seems to be in a bit of a druggy haze.
Not that I'm miss goody two shoes myself. I smoke now, weed at least. I like it. It makes me feel so at peace, which believe me, I need for this situation. We share a joint before screwing, and it helps his, erm... staying power. And it makes me all tingly and relaxed.
But there's a difference between smoking at the end of a day, and smoking as soon as you get out of bed. It makes him really dull company. You could even say that I smoke partly because I need to get down to his level before I can let him do anything, but the truth is I could never get to his level.
Ugh, complain, complain, complain... I feel like such an asshole. This situation is really my making. If I never let him touch me in the first place, I wouldn't be having this conversation. But what was I supposed to do? After a certain point, sex became all I could think about. I lie awake in bed at night fondling my tits and wishing someone, anyone else, were there, male or female. I didn't know girls could get like that, but then again, I guess I'm only partly a girl.
Well, the part that counts.
I have to end it. I have to, because it's not fair if I leave it for Angie to resolve. But with the routine I've gotten into, I feel like I'm going to leave it for the last possible moment.
Life was easier when I wasn't getting laid, didn't want to get laid, couldn't get laid. Sex has ruined me. If I stayed female more than another month I worry what I'd end up turning into.
Tuesday, May 06, 2014
Roy/Christine: Making Nice
After taking a long while to cool off, I ended up going back to Terry. Part of it was the uncomfortable motel bed I was sleeping on, starting to take its toll on my already permanently-sore back (lugging breasts and all this extra weight around is no fun.) Mostly, or so I tell myself, it's the greater good. In the end, my squabbles with this man are my own, and my actions have an effect on the person who is supposed to be in this body. As loathe as I am to share a bed with him, I force myself to put on the "good wife" facade.
I'll admit it has its benefits. Routine is nice. Company is good. I'd be lying if I said I didn't get any pleasure (albeit a kind of perverse kind) out of fulfilling Christine's "wifely" duties. But it's a bit like the last semester before graduation. I'm squirming in my seat at all times, ready to break free for the summer and take back control of my life.
And while I console myself by telling myself it was the right thing to do, I still feel like I've betrayed myself in letting Christine go back to him. He's an asshole, a difficult partner best and a bigot at worst. I'd be lying if I said it was the first time I found myself paradoxically attracted to a man like that, but I hope it's the last.
I hate feeling small, while also being too big. Christine left me a body that was very out of shape compared to what I'm used to, and while I made some progress helping that, there is only so much that can be done. As determined as I am, there just weren't enough hours in the day to make a huge difference. Eating right helps, staying active helps... but I've always said you've got to be about it, and even with my discipline, there was only so much effort I could put in while doing a full-time job and carrying on the marriage. This is, I guess, why people "let themselves go." I've never had that luxury because I never settled down, and I never wanted to.
So I'm left with this: another month or so of carting these hips and thighs and not to mention bosoms around with me, clenching my teeth when the man who shares my bed speaks, getting looks from strangers that I read as judgmental of my weight or lack of cosmetics... and sometimes clearly the mark of some kind of fat fetishist.
I'll admit to a certain level of judgmentalism in myself, both towards myself, and towards others before I got here. I always thought if it worked for me it should work for everyone... and maybe to a degree there's some logic to that, but I'm less hardline now than I was a year ago. I have a better understanding of women's body acceptance movements. I used to think it was just for quitters, but now I see it as a strength. To love yourself hard, but satisfying.
I'll admit it has its benefits. Routine is nice. Company is good. I'd be lying if I said I didn't get any pleasure (albeit a kind of perverse kind) out of fulfilling Christine's "wifely" duties. But it's a bit like the last semester before graduation. I'm squirming in my seat at all times, ready to break free for the summer and take back control of my life.
And while I console myself by telling myself it was the right thing to do, I still feel like I've betrayed myself in letting Christine go back to him. He's an asshole, a difficult partner best and a bigot at worst. I'd be lying if I said it was the first time I found myself paradoxically attracted to a man like that, but I hope it's the last.
I hate feeling small, while also being too big. Christine left me a body that was very out of shape compared to what I'm used to, and while I made some progress helping that, there is only so much that can be done. As determined as I am, there just weren't enough hours in the day to make a huge difference. Eating right helps, staying active helps... but I've always said you've got to be about it, and even with my discipline, there was only so much effort I could put in while doing a full-time job and carrying on the marriage. This is, I guess, why people "let themselves go." I've never had that luxury because I never settled down, and I never wanted to.
So I'm left with this: another month or so of carting these hips and thighs and not to mention bosoms around with me, clenching my teeth when the man who shares my bed speaks, getting looks from strangers that I read as judgmental of my weight or lack of cosmetics... and sometimes clearly the mark of some kind of fat fetishist.
I'll admit to a certain level of judgmentalism in myself, both towards myself, and towards others before I got here. I always thought if it worked for me it should work for everyone... and maybe to a degree there's some logic to that, but I'm less hardline now than I was a year ago. I have a better understanding of women's body acceptance movements. I used to think it was just for quitters, but now I see it as a strength. To love yourself hard, but satisfying.
Sunday, May 04, 2014
Tori: I'm The (Wo)man
I know I go a long time without posting here, and I hope you can understand the reasons. One, in comparison to those who are posting, my life is incredibly dull. Two, I decided a while back that I didn't want to dwell on body-swapping drama. I check in now and again but I go weeks without reading what these good people have to say about themselves. I felt like I needed to step away from this blog to complete my transformation, from Cliff, to Tori the past victim of the inn, and now to Tori: kick-ass bosslady.
Even in my old body, I didn't have much ambition. I wanted to do something I was good at, fixing other peoples' technical problems, be paid a respectable wage while doing it, and hopefully just subsist. And that was pretty much the plan as Tori, too. After 2013 was spent hopping from one dating disaster to the next (and the ones that weren't were just duds) and pining for a guy I couldn't have, I buckled down and started to develop myself as a person.
In my last post, months ago, I mentioned a friend I had in another department, Chuck. He's my best friend at work, a handsome go-getter with a beautiful wife and infant son. Sometimes it's a little painful to think about, with him being unavailable and all (what's that cliche... all the good ones are married or secretly using you to further their conspiracy?) but if anything having a friend like that has been really healthy for me. Seeing his success kind of made me want to do more for myself.
In March, he found out he was being promoted out of his department. There wasn't really anyone ready to take his place, so he told me that if I took some business courses to improve my resume, my knowledge of the company would make me a shoe-in. This from IT, usually a pretty dead-end department.
I guess I should call him my friend with benefits. Improved health benefits, you pervs.
It was too good of an opportunity to pass up. IT is what I've done for nearly a decade now, it was my identity as Cliff and as Tori, it was... a leftover, I guess. I enjoyed it, I was good at it, but getting out now looked really attractive when the opportunity came up. Who I am, as Tori, is not somebody who stays in one place forever. And definitely not because that's what Cliff did. I know that now.
It required three weeks of night school: not easy, but no big deal when you think of some of the other things I've had to learn over the years. It was nice to learn something really new at this age. I may not be a corporate shark, but I feel like I could take control of a situation now.
I start tomorrow. With a huge pay increase and a position of some actual authority.
I'm almost tempted to second-guess it. Knowing that the Agency, those weirdos who rig the Inn for fun and profit, have messed with my life (and the lives of people I care about) I have to look at stuff like this with some suspicion. But if I can't appreciate opportunities when they come around, well... how am I ever going to do anything with my life? It's been a while now, and I think they - whoever they are - are basically over me. I sat down and thought hard about it and decided it seemed very unlikely - not impossible but not likely - that this fairly benign promotion was a point in some conspiracy to get me (or other people) back to the Inn.
(Knock on wood...)
The whole thing has me excited and scared. Wish me luck.
PS. More things to talk about, but they don't necessarily belong in this post. Mwah.
Even in my old body, I didn't have much ambition. I wanted to do something I was good at, fixing other peoples' technical problems, be paid a respectable wage while doing it, and hopefully just subsist. And that was pretty much the plan as Tori, too. After 2013 was spent hopping from one dating disaster to the next (and the ones that weren't were just duds) and pining for a guy I couldn't have, I buckled down and started to develop myself as a person.
In my last post, months ago, I mentioned a friend I had in another department, Chuck. He's my best friend at work, a handsome go-getter with a beautiful wife and infant son. Sometimes it's a little painful to think about, with him being unavailable and all (what's that cliche... all the good ones are married or secretly using you to further their conspiracy?) but if anything having a friend like that has been really healthy for me. Seeing his success kind of made me want to do more for myself.
In March, he found out he was being promoted out of his department. There wasn't really anyone ready to take his place, so he told me that if I took some business courses to improve my resume, my knowledge of the company would make me a shoe-in. This from IT, usually a pretty dead-end department.
I guess I should call him my friend with benefits. Improved health benefits, you pervs.
It was too good of an opportunity to pass up. IT is what I've done for nearly a decade now, it was my identity as Cliff and as Tori, it was... a leftover, I guess. I enjoyed it, I was good at it, but getting out now looked really attractive when the opportunity came up. Who I am, as Tori, is not somebody who stays in one place forever. And definitely not because that's what Cliff did. I know that now.
It required three weeks of night school: not easy, but no big deal when you think of some of the other things I've had to learn over the years. It was nice to learn something really new at this age. I may not be a corporate shark, but I feel like I could take control of a situation now.
I start tomorrow. With a huge pay increase and a position of some actual authority.
I'm almost tempted to second-guess it. Knowing that the Agency, those weirdos who rig the Inn for fun and profit, have messed with my life (and the lives of people I care about) I have to look at stuff like this with some suspicion. But if I can't appreciate opportunities when they come around, well... how am I ever going to do anything with my life? It's been a while now, and I think they - whoever they are - are basically over me. I sat down and thought hard about it and decided it seemed very unlikely - not impossible but not likely - that this fairly benign promotion was a point in some conspiracy to get me (or other people) back to the Inn.
(Knock on wood...)
The whole thing has me excited and scared. Wish me luck.
PS. More things to talk about, but they don't necessarily belong in this post. Mwah.
Thursday, May 01, 2014
Cal/Angie: Could be better, could be worse
This is probably not going to shock anyone, but I think I like sex.
Obviously, as a man I liked it. I always wanted to have more for it. I was desperate, in fact. I jacked off probably more than I should. And when I finally started to let myself open up to that side of my lie as Angie, I wasn't THAT surprised that it was fun. By myself, anyway. That way, I was in control. I could go on for hours and hours, uninterrupted, if I planned my day out correctly. It would start at work, just lightly teasing myself when nobody was around. By the time I was on the bus home, I was squirming in my seat. Disgusting, I know... looking around at all the strangers made me feel good, like I had a little secret. Well, I've got lots of secrets, obviously.
Then I'd get home and the fun would begin. It got to the point where I didn't even care if the roommates were around. I would bolt straight to my room and get straight to business, having had up to three hours (!!!) of foreplay with myself. It was like a damn oil slick down there sometimes.
I experimented. How to touch, where, what, if anything, to put in... and when. I started to get to know this body really, really well. Except I didn't know it. I was just playing around.
Then I started having sex with David, and I was sorry to say it wasn't as glorious as I hoped. He always leaves me wanting more, and I didn't have any way to tell him what exactly I wanted, because, well, I feel almost ashamed to speak for myself. Some of it's not in his control, like, I know a guy can't hold back his come any more than you can hold back a sneeze, I just wish we held off on that portion of the night longer. I should really just man up and tell him to go down on me until I tell him to stop, not until he feels like he's done. Well, I also wish the intercourse itself lasted longer. One time, we did it, and it was over in a few minutes, and we lay there for a while until he was ready to go, and the second time lasted a lot longer, but his heart didn't seem to be in it. It was pretty gentle.
That's the other weird thing. I think I'm starting to feel like I prefer the hard stuff? He's a man, I want him to use all his muscles and size, and leverage and just... fuck me, you know? Hard, and slow, and... oh God, is it getting how in here.
Sorry. I didn't expect to think about sex this much as a woman. I went from barely thinking about it at all to having this, like, awakening at the end of the "year" I've spent here. It makes me sad that I waited so long, but at the same time I know I wasn't ready. I still don't know if I was.
Mixed feelings, I'm saying. Positive ones are in there with the negative ones. We've got a date tomorrow night. Hopefully I'll be able to lay it out for him in a way that doesn't hurt his feelings.
Obviously, as a man I liked it. I always wanted to have more for it. I was desperate, in fact. I jacked off probably more than I should. And when I finally started to let myself open up to that side of my lie as Angie, I wasn't THAT surprised that it was fun. By myself, anyway. That way, I was in control. I could go on for hours and hours, uninterrupted, if I planned my day out correctly. It would start at work, just lightly teasing myself when nobody was around. By the time I was on the bus home, I was squirming in my seat. Disgusting, I know... looking around at all the strangers made me feel good, like I had a little secret. Well, I've got lots of secrets, obviously.
Then I'd get home and the fun would begin. It got to the point where I didn't even care if the roommates were around. I would bolt straight to my room and get straight to business, having had up to three hours (!!!) of foreplay with myself. It was like a damn oil slick down there sometimes.
I experimented. How to touch, where, what, if anything, to put in... and when. I started to get to know this body really, really well. Except I didn't know it. I was just playing around.
Then I started having sex with David, and I was sorry to say it wasn't as glorious as I hoped. He always leaves me wanting more, and I didn't have any way to tell him what exactly I wanted, because, well, I feel almost ashamed to speak for myself. Some of it's not in his control, like, I know a guy can't hold back his come any more than you can hold back a sneeze, I just wish we held off on that portion of the night longer. I should really just man up and tell him to go down on me until I tell him to stop, not until he feels like he's done. Well, I also wish the intercourse itself lasted longer. One time, we did it, and it was over in a few minutes, and we lay there for a while until he was ready to go, and the second time lasted a lot longer, but his heart didn't seem to be in it. It was pretty gentle.
That's the other weird thing. I think I'm starting to feel like I prefer the hard stuff? He's a man, I want him to use all his muscles and size, and leverage and just... fuck me, you know? Hard, and slow, and... oh God, is it getting how in here.
Sorry. I didn't expect to think about sex this much as a woman. I went from barely thinking about it at all to having this, like, awakening at the end of the "year" I've spent here. It makes me sad that I waited so long, but at the same time I know I wasn't ready. I still don't know if I was.
Mixed feelings, I'm saying. Positive ones are in there with the negative ones. We've got a date tomorrow night. Hopefully I'll be able to lay it out for him in a way that doesn't hurt his feelings.
Sunday, April 20, 2014
James/Keisha: Itching to leave
As much as I'm happy for Cal, scratching that itch, I am just about ready to get back to normal.
I was talking about it over coffee with Trish/Robbie. We've gotten into the habit of having these brother/sister chats. I'm kind of the centerpiece of the group, since I live with and am best friends with Derek, work with Roy, and am technically siblings with Trish. I don't talk to Cal much anymore, but Trish does, so I hear about him that way. I mean her. Shit, funny after all these months I still do that. Ah well I'll leave it there.
So yeah, Trish had some thoughts about Cal dating that guy, and he was just going on and on (oh I did it right that time!) about how rude it was to make that kind of move in someone else's body, especially so close to the end, and yadda yadda... and so finally I just said "You're just mad because you regret shooting her down."
He denies it, but I think there's something to it. I think he feels guilty seeing as how Cal is such a nice chick - and let's face it, a cutie - and Trish, usually pretty accustomed to getting attention, is sitting around deliberately cockblocking himself.
"You could've just done it, just to do it, and now you lost your opportunity. You're officially a dude."
"That's so simplistic," he snapped back, "If it was gonna be anyone... I mean, it's just not safe to date anyone out side the group."
"You said it wasn't a good idea to date anyone inside the group, either."
"It's not, but it's better. If I'd known... she was just gonna go ahead and do it anyway..."
"Wow, you're a hypocrite," I laughed.
"I totally stand by my decision," Trish said, "It's just that that led to Cal making a worse one. He's a sweet guy, girl, whatever... he isn't going to be able to handle this."
"And you, what, would have let him down easy when you got back to your regular body?"
"At least with me everyone involved would know the score."
"Hey," I said, "If you just wanna get laid, Derek told me he'd give you a try."
"Ew," he said, "Derek said that about me?"
"Like you haven't thought it? Look at those tits. Girl's a goddess. A screamer, too. A real moaner."
Trish looked embarrassed, "You can hear her through the walls?"
"I don't have to, I'm usually in there with her."
He nearly spat his coffee out, "Don't look so embarrassed, we're two dudes trapped in the body of hot chicks with nothing else to do. Didn't think we'd get around to it out sooner or later?"
"I thought you said you liked guys in Keisha's body," he said.
"You're such a loser sometimes," I laughed, "You never heard of experimenting?"
"Well now I really don't want to go out with Derek. OR do anything else. Or even look at her."
"Hey, I offered," I said. "Not my fault you missed out on Cal."
"I didn't miss out on anything," Trish said, "She said she doesn't even like it that much."
"With David," I said, "But I bet you have some info he doesn't."
"Oh, I could rock Cal's world. Or Derek's. Or anybody's."
"How about mine?"
"James!" he said in shock, "You're my sister, remember?"
"Oh, yeah, I forgot," I said, laughing, "Oh my God, could you imagine? That shit would be hilarious. Like some Game of Thrones shit, right? Fuckin' right."
I was talking about it over coffee with Trish/Robbie. We've gotten into the habit of having these brother/sister chats. I'm kind of the centerpiece of the group, since I live with and am best friends with Derek, work with Roy, and am technically siblings with Trish. I don't talk to Cal much anymore, but Trish does, so I hear about him that way. I mean her. Shit, funny after all these months I still do that. Ah well I'll leave it there.
So yeah, Trish had some thoughts about Cal dating that guy, and he was just going on and on (oh I did it right that time!) about how rude it was to make that kind of move in someone else's body, especially so close to the end, and yadda yadda... and so finally I just said "You're just mad because you regret shooting her down."
He denies it, but I think there's something to it. I think he feels guilty seeing as how Cal is such a nice chick - and let's face it, a cutie - and Trish, usually pretty accustomed to getting attention, is sitting around deliberately cockblocking himself.
"You could've just done it, just to do it, and now you lost your opportunity. You're officially a dude."
"That's so simplistic," he snapped back, "If it was gonna be anyone... I mean, it's just not safe to date anyone out side the group."
"You said it wasn't a good idea to date anyone inside the group, either."
"It's not, but it's better. If I'd known... she was just gonna go ahead and do it anyway..."
"Wow, you're a hypocrite," I laughed.
"I totally stand by my decision," Trish said, "It's just that that led to Cal making a worse one. He's a sweet guy, girl, whatever... he isn't going to be able to handle this."
"And you, what, would have let him down easy when you got back to your regular body?"
"At least with me everyone involved would know the score."
"Hey," I said, "If you just wanna get laid, Derek told me he'd give you a try."
"Ew," he said, "Derek said that about me?"
"Like you haven't thought it? Look at those tits. Girl's a goddess. A screamer, too. A real moaner."
Trish looked embarrassed, "You can hear her through the walls?"
"I don't have to, I'm usually in there with her."
He nearly spat his coffee out, "Don't look so embarrassed, we're two dudes trapped in the body of hot chicks with nothing else to do. Didn't think we'd get around to it out sooner or later?"
"I thought you said you liked guys in Keisha's body," he said.
"You're such a loser sometimes," I laughed, "You never heard of experimenting?"
"Well now I really don't want to go out with Derek. OR do anything else. Or even look at her."
"Hey, I offered," I said. "Not my fault you missed out on Cal."
"I didn't miss out on anything," Trish said, "She said she doesn't even like it that much."
"With David," I said, "But I bet you have some info he doesn't."
"Oh, I could rock Cal's world. Or Derek's. Or anybody's."
"How about mine?"
"James!" he said in shock, "You're my sister, remember?"
"Oh, yeah, I forgot," I said, laughing, "Oh my God, could you imagine? That shit would be hilarious. Like some Game of Thrones shit, right? Fuckin' right."
Monday, April 14, 2014
Cal/Angie: Making it happen
I've gotten really used to the feeling of playing with myself and more and more the idea of taking on a... playmate... became a huge part of my fantasies. Why not, right? He likes me, I kinda like him. It's... just sex, right? I started hinting to David that I was maybe willing to do more with him
and things between us changed. He started making a lot more comments
about my looks, saying he was thinking about me... I couldn't tell if he
was just trying to flatter me to seal the deal or if he was excited at
the idea of seeing me naked or what. Just, the flirting got to a new
level and I didn't know what to make of it.I tried to play along but having someone just falling head over heels for me was really... off-putting.
So we got to the big night, this past Saturday. Not that we planned it out, but I knew that unless something really horrible happened that night was the night. And sure enough it went like a lot of our dates went... started with some drinks and Netflix, then rapidly became making out. I started getting really hot... his hand on my leg was a welcome feeling. I rubbed my hands up and down his back (not a ton of options, really) and followed my body's instincts to thrust my pelvis against his, just kind of grinding. I could feel his hardness under his pants.
I decided the smartest, most direct way to signify him that I was ready to take it up a notch would be to grab it. Now, I've never grabbed somebody else's, so I just kind of cupped the outside and lightly ran my hand up his zipper. The outcome was the desired one.
Before I knew it, my pants were around my ankles, and he lowered his head into my crotch. I didn't expect this... I heard fro ma lot of people that guys like to skip this but I was glad he didn't. His lips and tongue danced around the right areas. I felt my face getting flushed, my legs trembling in the air. I couldn't help letting out a pleasure moan that sounded like "Eyyyooohhhh-eeeeeeiiiiiiiaaaaaaaahhhhhooooooohhhhhh! Hehhhnnnn hiiiiiinnnnhhhhh!" I could feel myself getting really warmed up.
Then all of a sudden he decided he was done, and it was my turn to try him. Um okay, I guess it would have been rude at this point to say "no thanks" but I wasn't quite ready to get off the ride. Still, I figured we could come back to me in a few minutes. This is what I signed on for, basically.
So before I knew it, there's this, well, considerably sized erect penis staring me in the face.
And before I could say to him "Um, I've never done this before," I closed my eyes, opened my mouth and faced the music. I was too far in to turn back.
Slowly I got used to the idea that there was a part of another human being in my mouth... trying hard not to think about the things that part does. It was stiff, which means he likes me. Well, he can't exactly control it, but I still took it as a compliment.
And then he started saying stuff. Like "Uh, yeah, you like that, don't you? Yeah. Take it. You love it. You love the taste."
And I really, truly didn't, and I didn't care for him saying stuff like that. It really took me out of the moment.
Then he ended up coming in my mouth without warning me. All of a sudden I felt it go off in my mouth and I nearly choked. And he fucking laughed it off and told me to lie next to him until he was ready to go again... and I was just thinking how I wasn't done going the first time.
When we finally got back to it a half hour later, he put it in pretty quickly and started pumping it... and there were pleasurable parts of it, but really by then I was just waiting for it all to be done with because it was clear he had no idea what he was doing. Like he knew something... it was clear he had a routine, but as far as actually taking care of my needs, he fell pretty flat. Parts of it felt good, for a moment or tow, but mostly it was just a hard, bumpy ride that actually kind of hurt at times as he pushed as far into me as he could go then jerked out suddenly.
I was kind of cold about it afterwards, just waiting for it to be done because it was clear I wasn't going to finish. After he finally finished and pulled out I wondered what the hell just happened to me. I felt used, like a prop to satisfy him, without any real feeling or meaning. I felt sick with myself, disappointed in a guy that I liked, and ashamed that I let that happen to Angie's body.
I waited a length of time - how long I don't know, maybe five minutes, maybe twenty but it felt long - before finally sitting up and pulling my panties on.
As I headed for the door, he barely acknowledged me, except to mumble, "I'll text."
Yeah... we'll see if I answer.
When I got home, I just laid down in my own bed and laughed myself to sleep. "Ugh... men."
And sure enough, when he texted me, five minutes ago while I was writing this all up, to ask "Hey what's up?" I texted back "Nothing, you?"
Guess I feel like I need to give him a second chance. Ugh... me.
So we got to the big night, this past Saturday. Not that we planned it out, but I knew that unless something really horrible happened that night was the night. And sure enough it went like a lot of our dates went... started with some drinks and Netflix, then rapidly became making out. I started getting really hot... his hand on my leg was a welcome feeling. I rubbed my hands up and down his back (not a ton of options, really) and followed my body's instincts to thrust my pelvis against his, just kind of grinding. I could feel his hardness under his pants.
I decided the smartest, most direct way to signify him that I was ready to take it up a notch would be to grab it. Now, I've never grabbed somebody else's, so I just kind of cupped the outside and lightly ran my hand up his zipper. The outcome was the desired one.
Before I knew it, my pants were around my ankles, and he lowered his head into my crotch. I didn't expect this... I heard fro ma lot of people that guys like to skip this but I was glad he didn't. His lips and tongue danced around the right areas. I felt my face getting flushed, my legs trembling in the air. I couldn't help letting out a pleasure moan that sounded like "Eyyyooohhhh-eeeeeeiiiiiiiaaaaaaaahhhhhooooooohhhhhh! Hehhhnnnn hiiiiiinnnnhhhhh!" I could feel myself getting really warmed up.
Then all of a sudden he decided he was done, and it was my turn to try him. Um okay, I guess it would have been rude at this point to say "no thanks" but I wasn't quite ready to get off the ride. Still, I figured we could come back to me in a few minutes. This is what I signed on for, basically.
So before I knew it, there's this, well, considerably sized erect penis staring me in the face.
And before I could say to him "Um, I've never done this before," I closed my eyes, opened my mouth and faced the music. I was too far in to turn back.
Slowly I got used to the idea that there was a part of another human being in my mouth... trying hard not to think about the things that part does. It was stiff, which means he likes me. Well, he can't exactly control it, but I still took it as a compliment.
And then he started saying stuff. Like "Uh, yeah, you like that, don't you? Yeah. Take it. You love it. You love the taste."
And I really, truly didn't, and I didn't care for him saying stuff like that. It really took me out of the moment.
Then he ended up coming in my mouth without warning me. All of a sudden I felt it go off in my mouth and I nearly choked. And he fucking laughed it off and told me to lie next to him until he was ready to go again... and I was just thinking how I wasn't done going the first time.
When we finally got back to it a half hour later, he put it in pretty quickly and started pumping it... and there were pleasurable parts of it, but really by then I was just waiting for it all to be done with because it was clear he had no idea what he was doing. Like he knew something... it was clear he had a routine, but as far as actually taking care of my needs, he fell pretty flat. Parts of it felt good, for a moment or tow, but mostly it was just a hard, bumpy ride that actually kind of hurt at times as he pushed as far into me as he could go then jerked out suddenly.
I was kind of cold about it afterwards, just waiting for it to be done because it was clear I wasn't going to finish. After he finally finished and pulled out I wondered what the hell just happened to me. I felt used, like a prop to satisfy him, without any real feeling or meaning. I felt sick with myself, disappointed in a guy that I liked, and ashamed that I let that happen to Angie's body.
I waited a length of time - how long I don't know, maybe five minutes, maybe twenty but it felt long - before finally sitting up and pulling my panties on.
As I headed for the door, he barely acknowledged me, except to mumble, "I'll text."
Yeah... we'll see if I answer.
When I got home, I just laid down in my own bed and laughed myself to sleep. "Ugh... men."
And sure enough, when he texted me, five minutes ago while I was writing this all up, to ask "Hey what's up?" I texted back "Nothing, you?"
Guess I feel like I need to give him a second chance. Ugh... me.
Friday, April 11, 2014
Grant/Sophie: Never look back
Hey guys. I haven't posted on here for myself here, but I guess you know me a bit. My name was Grant, but right now it's Sophie.
I don't really know what it'll be next.
Going back to the beginning, I'll admit, I was shocked, horrified, scared, sad when we woke up transformed. I didn't understand what had happened any more than the rest of them, I didn't want it. I didn't want this. I was a gangly and uninteresting looking guy one night, and I woke up as a short, curvy, even voluptous, tattooed girl.
If I could forget the person in the mirror was me, I would think she was incredibly cool.
Like the rest of them I went along, shellshocked, behaving myself. Then I wore this body around a bit and I started to like it. None of the others wanted to hear it so I kept my mouth shut, and didn't post on here ever. I went to work as a waitress and found myself earning tips by smiling at guys, wearing lip gloss, leaning over and letting them peer down my top. What did I care? They weren't my tits really. What did I have to feel modest about? And sure, I got hit on, but most girls in the service industry learn how to play it off and never feel threatened. I liked it.
Then one night I overheard some guys at the bar whispering about me and the friend. "Okay, you can take the hot one, I'll take the fat one." When the guys came over to the table, I learned the "fat one" was me. I may not be a twig, but... I cried myself to sleep that night.
It was weeks later that I met Marco, at a punk show I went to with Sophie's friends. It took me forever to believe him when he told me I was beautiful. I'm still not sure I agree or that I appreciate it, but I liked him fine, so I didn't tell him to get lost. I gave him my number.
We dated for a while. And at first it freaked me out how much I liked it. He towers over me, and he's husky, and bearded and tattooed, and I couldn't figure out where the thrill of being with him was coming from. But it felt right and more than that... it felt familiar.
So one night, as I was lying up in bed, his arms around me, feeling his breath on me, I tried to remember back, back, back in my life. And I realized that more than just this was familiar... more than just being the little spoon or being potentially in love. Something about the nerves that come with being someone else. Something about the lie. Something about Maine.
So I talked to the "new me." I asked him to do me a favour and ask my parents if they knew anything about Maine.
It turned out they knew a fair bit about it. We'd been there as a family when I was 3 years old. At least, I was 3 years old when we left. Before that, they didn't even know who I was or where I came from.
I... I hated being myself. I hated being Grant, I mean. I walked around in a cloud for years feeling there was something off about my world. I didn't relate to anyone my age. My parents didn't seem to want me around. I was lonely and depressed and I hated everything in that life.
And I haven't lately.
Sure, I cried my eyes out. I freaked out. I stopped texting Marco back and basically ruined things with him because my world suddenly disintegrated, vanished like it was never there to begin with. I was nobody. At least, I have no idea who I was. My brain seems to have suppressed whatever my identity was before I was made into Grant, and my "parents" have no clue. But that realization was healthy.
I decided I can never go back there. Back to Lowell, back to being Grant. It would be unthinkable, selfish and dumb to think I could keep being Sophie. This life belongs to someone else, and as much as I've done with it, since being here, it won't be mine soon. I've told the new Grant to do whatever he wants, it's no concern of mine anymore. I just don't want him to think he owes me my life back, because it wasn't that.
Maybe I could be a guy again. I'm indifferent to that, but I feel like 15 years or so was plenty. I think I was a woman before. I think I would like to keep being one. But I don't know who to talk to about that.
So, to the mysterious people out there who read this, who make things happen, who help lost soul like me (or make us into them) I'm letting you know... I want whatever you can give me. I'll be a traveler, I'll join your agency, I'll do whatever you need. I just can't go backwards.
I don't really know what it'll be next.
Going back to the beginning, I'll admit, I was shocked, horrified, scared, sad when we woke up transformed. I didn't understand what had happened any more than the rest of them, I didn't want it. I didn't want this. I was a gangly and uninteresting looking guy one night, and I woke up as a short, curvy, even voluptous, tattooed girl.
If I could forget the person in the mirror was me, I would think she was incredibly cool.
Like the rest of them I went along, shellshocked, behaving myself. Then I wore this body around a bit and I started to like it. None of the others wanted to hear it so I kept my mouth shut, and didn't post on here ever. I went to work as a waitress and found myself earning tips by smiling at guys, wearing lip gloss, leaning over and letting them peer down my top. What did I care? They weren't my tits really. What did I have to feel modest about? And sure, I got hit on, but most girls in the service industry learn how to play it off and never feel threatened. I liked it.
Then one night I overheard some guys at the bar whispering about me and the friend. "Okay, you can take the hot one, I'll take the fat one." When the guys came over to the table, I learned the "fat one" was me. I may not be a twig, but... I cried myself to sleep that night.
It was weeks later that I met Marco, at a punk show I went to with Sophie's friends. It took me forever to believe him when he told me I was beautiful. I'm still not sure I agree or that I appreciate it, but I liked him fine, so I didn't tell him to get lost. I gave him my number.
We dated for a while. And at first it freaked me out how much I liked it. He towers over me, and he's husky, and bearded and tattooed, and I couldn't figure out where the thrill of being with him was coming from. But it felt right and more than that... it felt familiar.
So one night, as I was lying up in bed, his arms around me, feeling his breath on me, I tried to remember back, back, back in my life. And I realized that more than just this was familiar... more than just being the little spoon or being potentially in love. Something about the nerves that come with being someone else. Something about the lie. Something about Maine.
So I talked to the "new me." I asked him to do me a favour and ask my parents if they knew anything about Maine.
It turned out they knew a fair bit about it. We'd been there as a family when I was 3 years old. At least, I was 3 years old when we left. Before that, they didn't even know who I was or where I came from.
I... I hated being myself. I hated being Grant, I mean. I walked around in a cloud for years feeling there was something off about my world. I didn't relate to anyone my age. My parents didn't seem to want me around. I was lonely and depressed and I hated everything in that life.
And I haven't lately.
Sure, I cried my eyes out. I freaked out. I stopped texting Marco back and basically ruined things with him because my world suddenly disintegrated, vanished like it was never there to begin with. I was nobody. At least, I have no idea who I was. My brain seems to have suppressed whatever my identity was before I was made into Grant, and my "parents" have no clue. But that realization was healthy.
I decided I can never go back there. Back to Lowell, back to being Grant. It would be unthinkable, selfish and dumb to think I could keep being Sophie. This life belongs to someone else, and as much as I've done with it, since being here, it won't be mine soon. I've told the new Grant to do whatever he wants, it's no concern of mine anymore. I just don't want him to think he owes me my life back, because it wasn't that.
Maybe I could be a guy again. I'm indifferent to that, but I feel like 15 years or so was plenty. I think I was a woman before. I think I would like to keep being one. But I don't know who to talk to about that.
So, to the mysterious people out there who read this, who make things happen, who help lost soul like me (or make us into them) I'm letting you know... I want whatever you can give me. I'll be a traveler, I'll join your agency, I'll do whatever you need. I just can't go backwards.
Thursday, April 03, 2014
Roy/Christine: Ducks in a row
That phrase always reminds me of my father. He was big into hunting. One of many things we didn't have in common. But it's appropriate. After a few weeks of wrangling and accommodating, it looks like everyone will be present and accounted for in Maine in just two months.
I'm writing this from the motel where I've been living for the past few months. I haven't done much since February besides work, eat, watch TV and sleep. I had blowup after blowup with Christine's husband Terry and I just... had to get out.
I like to think I'm a strong person, but I can shoot my mouth off sometimes. Playing the good wife to that deadbeat was not really in my wheelhouse. As much as I should have grinned and bore it for Christine's sake, there are things I just can't stand. Laziness, lack of ability to contribute, ungratefulness, a neanderthalic perspective on gender roles... to summarize, he was not my kind of guy. I climbed into bed with him for as long as I could, but eventually I just couldn't stand it.
The final straw happened after the Holidays, when Christine's brother Angus was staying with us. Angus happens to be gay, and while Terry behaved himself while he was around, he showed his true colors afterward when he said he was glad it was just us again.
"Honey, your brother's a great guy, but he can be such a fag sometimes."
WHAT.
Look, I've been around for a while - not out as long as I probably should have been but plenty long. I've heard lots of stuff and lots of it was way worse than that. That doesn't keep me from getting offended when I hear language like that and definitely not when the person who is saying it thinks he's talking to his wife about her brother.
So I launched immediately into a tirade. I saw red. I screamed myself hoarse with "How dare yous" and "If you only knews" and just bawling. I don't even know what was said. And he didn't even have the manhood to apologize. He tried to defend himself and say he's sure Angus has heard worse and he meant it lovingly and blah blah blah homophobic bullshit.
So at the end of the night I just threw my hands in the air and said "What's the fucking point?" I didn't ask for this. I didn't agree to be the guardian and protector of this fucking marriage, to someone who doesn't appreciate the woman he's with and definitely doesn't deserve me. I should have knocked his fucking lights out.
So I stormed out, only occasionally returning for some belongings - but as they're not really mine, I mostly just left it. And I didn't tell you because part of me, if you can believe it, was embarrassed to have failed the wife test. But good, because I never wanted to be one. If I ever fall in love, if I ever get married, it will be to someone who's passed my test.
Of course, Christine wasn't thrilled, but I'm sure she'll be able to piece things back together when she returns. If she was the type of person who can suffer his shit with a smile, I'm sure she's great at rebuilding bridges.
Not me, though. I burn them.
I'm writing this from the motel where I've been living for the past few months. I haven't done much since February besides work, eat, watch TV and sleep. I had blowup after blowup with Christine's husband Terry and I just... had to get out.
I like to think I'm a strong person, but I can shoot my mouth off sometimes. Playing the good wife to that deadbeat was not really in my wheelhouse. As much as I should have grinned and bore it for Christine's sake, there are things I just can't stand. Laziness, lack of ability to contribute, ungratefulness, a neanderthalic perspective on gender roles... to summarize, he was not my kind of guy. I climbed into bed with him for as long as I could, but eventually I just couldn't stand it.
The final straw happened after the Holidays, when Christine's brother Angus was staying with us. Angus happens to be gay, and while Terry behaved himself while he was around, he showed his true colors afterward when he said he was glad it was just us again.
"Honey, your brother's a great guy, but he can be such a fag sometimes."
WHAT.
Look, I've been around for a while - not out as long as I probably should have been but plenty long. I've heard lots of stuff and lots of it was way worse than that. That doesn't keep me from getting offended when I hear language like that and definitely not when the person who is saying it thinks he's talking to his wife about her brother.
So I launched immediately into a tirade. I saw red. I screamed myself hoarse with "How dare yous" and "If you only knews" and just bawling. I don't even know what was said. And he didn't even have the manhood to apologize. He tried to defend himself and say he's sure Angus has heard worse and he meant it lovingly and blah blah blah homophobic bullshit.
So at the end of the night I just threw my hands in the air and said "What's the fucking point?" I didn't ask for this. I didn't agree to be the guardian and protector of this fucking marriage, to someone who doesn't appreciate the woman he's with and definitely doesn't deserve me. I should have knocked his fucking lights out.
So I stormed out, only occasionally returning for some belongings - but as they're not really mine, I mostly just left it. And I didn't tell you because part of me, if you can believe it, was embarrassed to have failed the wife test. But good, because I never wanted to be one. If I ever fall in love, if I ever get married, it will be to someone who's passed my test.
Of course, Christine wasn't thrilled, but I'm sure she'll be able to piece things back together when she returns. If she was the type of person who can suffer his shit with a smile, I'm sure she's great at rebuilding bridges.
Not me, though. I burn them.
Thursday, March 27, 2014
Cal/Angie: Wait... what?
I found out a while ago that I'm not the only girl David sees. He admitted it to me while we were hanging out and said that he likes me but he's not into commitment "right now." I had a hard time processing this because as far as I'm concerned one guy dates one girl and that's it...
"Are you having sex with these other girls?" I asked.
"No, I only fuck one girl at a time. We make out though."
It burned me inside to think that he was spending time with other girls, but given how touch-and-go I am about the whole situation, could I really convince him I deserve all his attention?
Despite my uncertainty about the relationship's progress... or whether we're even having a relationship... I still feel bad if I don't see him very often, if I don't check in. So obviously I'm at least a little into him, which is scary. I wish I could cut out the part of me that likes hanging out with him, that likes his big hands on my body. And I hope you're right, Anon, I hope it gets left behind when I go back to being Cal.
So I was calling him up to make plans for Friday and I got his voicemail, and I was going to hang up and just text him but I decided to just blurt out a bunch of stuff like "Hey, sorry I'm flaky, I don't really know how to do this dating thing and I wanna thank you for being patient with me... I have a lot of stuff to work out and I don't really know what this is but I'm having fun and I want to see you Friday if you're free. Okay, my voice is probably sounding really annoying now, god it's so nasal and gross. Pretend I didn't say anything. Just, um, let me know."
And then I went to go hyperventilate in my room for a few minutes, until my phone buzzed.
"Hey," he texted, "Just got your message. It made me laugh. I love the sound of your voice, don't be embarrassed about it. :)"
My jaw dropped. I got that pained feeling in my stomach.
This was, like, the first time anyone said they loved anything about me. And sure, this voice isn't mine by birth, but it just means he likes, you know, my whole self, right? It's code.
My knees got weak. I laid down on the bed. I felt myself getting wet. Trembling, I started to rub myself...
Oh God. How could this be happening just from a text?
I'm in way over my head here.
This... is happening...?
"Are you having sex with these other girls?" I asked.
"No, I only fuck one girl at a time. We make out though."
It burned me inside to think that he was spending time with other girls, but given how touch-and-go I am about the whole situation, could I really convince him I deserve all his attention?
Despite my uncertainty about the relationship's progress... or whether we're even having a relationship... I still feel bad if I don't see him very often, if I don't check in. So obviously I'm at least a little into him, which is scary. I wish I could cut out the part of me that likes hanging out with him, that likes his big hands on my body. And I hope you're right, Anon, I hope it gets left behind when I go back to being Cal.
So I was calling him up to make plans for Friday and I got his voicemail, and I was going to hang up and just text him but I decided to just blurt out a bunch of stuff like "Hey, sorry I'm flaky, I don't really know how to do this dating thing and I wanna thank you for being patient with me... I have a lot of stuff to work out and I don't really know what this is but I'm having fun and I want to see you Friday if you're free. Okay, my voice is probably sounding really annoying now, god it's so nasal and gross. Pretend I didn't say anything. Just, um, let me know."
And then I went to go hyperventilate in my room for a few minutes, until my phone buzzed.
"Hey," he texted, "Just got your message. It made me laugh. I love the sound of your voice, don't be embarrassed about it. :)"
My jaw dropped. I got that pained feeling in my stomach.
This was, like, the first time anyone said they loved anything about me. And sure, this voice isn't mine by birth, but it just means he likes, you know, my whole self, right? It's code.
My knees got weak. I laid down on the bed. I felt myself getting wet. Trembling, I started to rub myself...
Oh God. How could this be happening just from a text?
I'm in way over my head here.
This... is happening...?
Friday, March 21, 2014
Cal/Angie: Preparations, stress and uncertainty
Maybe I'm just an anti-social person, but I wasn't really prepared for the amount of work that goes into being someone's girlfriend. After hanging out together for one night I'm usually satisfied and don't feel the need to see him much for the rest of the week. I think he's been taking this as me not being interested, and maybe that's true... I like him, but I think there's a limit to that. I'm just not willing to let myself get super close to him, because I know he'll only get hurt in the end.
I'm going back to the Inn in June. That's official. It has been for a while, but I thought I would clarify for those of you reading who never heard the news. Roy/Christine took care of all the arrangements, working with her counterpart and helping me corral all of the current occupants of our bodies for the correct arrangements. Knock on wood, everything should be lined up properly. Knowing that, it feels strange that I would even let David into my life.
But I know you understand and are encouraging... he likes me, and I like that he likes me. I think he expects things from me, and while part of me wants to see what it's like to give that, to be with someone that way, I wonder what the point of it is if I'm getting my body in. It's a "once in a lifetime" opportunity, but I'm not sure I feel comfortable, and it feels like a lose-lose situation. If I do it and I don't like it, I might hate myself (and maybe never look a woman in the eye again!) If I do it and I do like it, then how do I go back to being a man? How do I live with myself knowing what I know?
I guess that's going to be a problem anyway. I've kissed David. I've played with myself and enjoyed it. I also enjoyed having a dick of my own. Every argument against doing this feels flimsy. But the coolness between me and David makes me feel so awkward, like I shouldn't bother.
I'm going back to the Inn in June. That's official. It has been for a while, but I thought I would clarify for those of you reading who never heard the news. Roy/Christine took care of all the arrangements, working with her counterpart and helping me corral all of the current occupants of our bodies for the correct arrangements. Knock on wood, everything should be lined up properly. Knowing that, it feels strange that I would even let David into my life.
But I know you understand and are encouraging... he likes me, and I like that he likes me. I think he expects things from me, and while part of me wants to see what it's like to give that, to be with someone that way, I wonder what the point of it is if I'm getting my body in. It's a "once in a lifetime" opportunity, but I'm not sure I feel comfortable, and it feels like a lose-lose situation. If I do it and I don't like it, I might hate myself (and maybe never look a woman in the eye again!) If I do it and I do like it, then how do I go back to being a man? How do I live with myself knowing what I know?
I guess that's going to be a problem anyway. I've kissed David. I've played with myself and enjoyed it. I also enjoyed having a dick of my own. Every argument against doing this feels flimsy. But the coolness between me and David makes me feel so awkward, like I shouldn't bother.
Thursday, March 06, 2014
Cal/Angie: The eggs are broken
So I might as well tell you this since it's been ages since I posted and maybe you're wondering... I've started dating my co-worker David.
Considering the last post on here is Trish/Robbie telling you about me confessing my feelings for him, you might be confused... well, obviously nobody's more confused than me. For the record, Robbie had my consent to post that, and while the whole thing stung I believe in openness. It's a fair record of what we were going through and he was right.
But that doesn't make me any less lonely.
Like... what is this? What is my life? I get up, I go to work, I don't talk to anyone but co-workers and customers, I keep myself busy, I come home and I just... flop down. I had no life when I was at home in Mass, and if I came all this way just to have no life, I don't think I could take it. I was crying on a near daily basis even before the thing with me and Robbie.
I've known David was interested in me for a long time, and at first it scared me, and worried me, but he was kind enough not to be creepy about it, and indirectly that gave me time to get used to the idea. And I thought it would be smarter to try to date Robbie, because not only do I like him as a person, but we share a secret and, I don't know, I feel closer. I'll always feel that connection, even to the Lowell folks that I've kind of fallen out with.
But I gave it time with David, and he still seemed to like me. So after a few more weeks of constant emotional breakdown I decided the only thing I could try to do was ask him if he wanted to go out on a date.
I know, Robbie was right about it not being smart to date anyone like this, but I couldn't really fight the feelings I was having... not necessarily for David, but for the world, and about myself. I need this, okay?
So we started slow, I started spending time over at his place, and we'd have drinks and do a joint or whatever you call smoking weed. It really relaxes me, and we talk for a while and then... as soon as I feel like it we start touching and he leans in close... and I don't back away. It started with a peck on his lips. It was just the weirdest thing. Here's this guy who isn't that big, I guess but sitting next to him I feel tiny and vulnerable, and he could do whatever he wants, and I'm scared for my life and have no idea what's going to happen next. And he's got these thin, dry lips, and a big of a beard so it scratches against my skin. That shocked me. Not that it happened, just that... I was letting it.
Then as soon as I decided I was okay with that I went in for another one, and we were off and running. I don't know, it's just nice to have someone giving you that kind of attention. Pressing you where you need to be pressed, running their hands up your spine and thigh. I could feel him nervously making his moves, hesitating slightly, seeing where he should move his hands...
Then he found the clasp of my bra, and that was just too much, but I didn't have the words to tell him to stop. And I figured, hey, I didn't think I would like kissing him, why not just let him have this?
In the end it didn't really get comfortable at that level, but thankfully it didn't go any further. When we finally broke off,I was just totally stunned into silence. I haven't kissed anyone like that in a long time, let alone a guy. I flashed through my entire head over the story of how it came to that... months of getting steadily more confused about who I am and what I want, finding myself stumbling over my words or letting my eyes linger on on guys in general, trying to figure out what I really see. Getting that feeling deep inside, like my midsection is pulling my lungs down and my knees getting a little woozy, just because, I don't know, the light hits someone the right way, and admitting what it all adds up to.
We talked it out, and I said I didn't know what it all meant, and I'm really not in a place where I can be counted on to be anyone's girlfriend... but I liked him and I was trying to figure out what it meant. He said that was cool, "obviously," and would do or be whatever I needed, and that was so scarily exactly what I needed to hear that I'm a little afraid he was just saying what I wanted to hear to win points, which... has me really turned around. Again.
I'm still not sure if I feel okay about it, about liking it and letting it happen again, and I really really don't know if it's okay that I'm letting him believe I'm something I'm not, but... well, the egg is broken.
Considering the last post on here is Trish/Robbie telling you about me confessing my feelings for him, you might be confused... well, obviously nobody's more confused than me. For the record, Robbie had my consent to post that, and while the whole thing stung I believe in openness. It's a fair record of what we were going through and he was right.
But that doesn't make me any less lonely.
Like... what is this? What is my life? I get up, I go to work, I don't talk to anyone but co-workers and customers, I keep myself busy, I come home and I just... flop down. I had no life when I was at home in Mass, and if I came all this way just to have no life, I don't think I could take it. I was crying on a near daily basis even before the thing with me and Robbie.
I've known David was interested in me for a long time, and at first it scared me, and worried me, but he was kind enough not to be creepy about it, and indirectly that gave me time to get used to the idea. And I thought it would be smarter to try to date Robbie, because not only do I like him as a person, but we share a secret and, I don't know, I feel closer. I'll always feel that connection, even to the Lowell folks that I've kind of fallen out with.
But I gave it time with David, and he still seemed to like me. So after a few more weeks of constant emotional breakdown I decided the only thing I could try to do was ask him if he wanted to go out on a date.
I know, Robbie was right about it not being smart to date anyone like this, but I couldn't really fight the feelings I was having... not necessarily for David, but for the world, and about myself. I need this, okay?
So we started slow, I started spending time over at his place, and we'd have drinks and do a joint or whatever you call smoking weed. It really relaxes me, and we talk for a while and then... as soon as I feel like it we start touching and he leans in close... and I don't back away. It started with a peck on his lips. It was just the weirdest thing. Here's this guy who isn't that big, I guess but sitting next to him I feel tiny and vulnerable, and he could do whatever he wants, and I'm scared for my life and have no idea what's going to happen next. And he's got these thin, dry lips, and a big of a beard so it scratches against my skin. That shocked me. Not that it happened, just that... I was letting it.
Then as soon as I decided I was okay with that I went in for another one, and we were off and running. I don't know, it's just nice to have someone giving you that kind of attention. Pressing you where you need to be pressed, running their hands up your spine and thigh. I could feel him nervously making his moves, hesitating slightly, seeing where he should move his hands...
Then he found the clasp of my bra, and that was just too much, but I didn't have the words to tell him to stop. And I figured, hey, I didn't think I would like kissing him, why not just let him have this?
In the end it didn't really get comfortable at that level, but thankfully it didn't go any further. When we finally broke off,I was just totally stunned into silence. I haven't kissed anyone like that in a long time, let alone a guy. I flashed through my entire head over the story of how it came to that... months of getting steadily more confused about who I am and what I want, finding myself stumbling over my words or letting my eyes linger on on guys in general, trying to figure out what I really see. Getting that feeling deep inside, like my midsection is pulling my lungs down and my knees getting a little woozy, just because, I don't know, the light hits someone the right way, and admitting what it all adds up to.
We talked it out, and I said I didn't know what it all meant, and I'm really not in a place where I can be counted on to be anyone's girlfriend... but I liked him and I was trying to figure out what it meant. He said that was cool, "obviously," and would do or be whatever I needed, and that was so scarily exactly what I needed to hear that I'm a little afraid he was just saying what I wanted to hear to win points, which... has me really turned around. Again.
I'm still not sure if I feel okay about it, about liking it and letting it happen again, and I really really don't know if it's okay that I'm letting him believe I'm something I'm not, but... well, the egg is broken.
Friday, February 07, 2014
Trish/Robbie: That awkward moment...
I've been hanging out with Cal a little bit since December. I felt a little sorry for her, the way James and Derek cut her out of the "group" after the burglary incident. Whether Cal was really to blame, the fact that we have to rely on each other means we should be more careful about how we treat each other. We've met up for coffee a few times, and she even convinced me I might enjoy the Lego movie, so we went to see that tonight. I thought it was really funny!
Afterwards, we stopped off for a drink. Cal's not the biggest drinker, but I guess she's been trying plenty of new things since we got to Van City. As out first drinks arrived, I told her how much I had liked her last post, that it was nice to see her in a cheerier mood. She said she was really starting to enjoy pushing herself, and to look at "our" situation... not long ago, we barely knew each other, had none of the same friends, and now we're pretty close. This is true. It's not that I would have had anything against Cal back in Lowell, but we just didn't run with the same groups. We didn't relate. Now we're a bit more mature, and we have something in common. Something really serious, and known only to a few.
"So I mean..." she said quietly, folding and re-folding her paper napkin, "If we get, I mean when we get back, are we still going to be friends?"
"Of course," I said. "You're a really nice person."
"That's good," she said, "I was so worried that if we went back, then everything would just... revert. I'd wake up one morning and we'd be strangers again."
"Cal," I smiled, "Trust me, I won't be forgetting what we're going through."
"You should call me Angie, probably," she said.
"Right."
"Do you ever think about what we'd do if we were stuck, though?"
"I try not to."
"So you're looking forward to being a girl again?"
"Definitely!" I said.
"Why?" she asked, "I mean, I've been both, and I really would prefer to be a guy. No offense."
"None taken," I laughed, "It has its advantages. But I mean... it's not just about having a body, it's about having a home. Being with people you care about. I miss my family, I miss my dog, I miss Lowell... I had plans for my life, and they didn't really include this. If we had to stay, I'd make the best of it, I guess, but I'll be happier when we go back."
She agreed that was a good way to look at things. After a little longer, she finally worked up, I guess, the nerve to say what had been on her mind.
"Listen, Robbie, I just want to say I think you're such a great person... male or female, I really enjoy spending time with you."
I squirmed a little. I could see where this was going, but I wanted to let her get it out.
"I really like you, Robbie. Trish. Whatever happens, whatever we look like, you're someone that I would just... really like to spend time with. I think we should... like, date."
My heart sunk. I've been in this situation a few times before, where one side has feelings the other person just can't return, and I hoped that in these mixed-up bodies we could escape that. But I guess hormones have a strange way of working on a person. As much as Cal is a very nice person, I just didn't see her that way.
"I understand," she sighed. "It's too complicated anyway. I don't even know who I am anymore, you know? And plus, it's probably wrong to do that sort of thing in these bodies."
"Yeah," I said, just trying to make sure I didn't say anything to further disrupt the situation. "We're really not in a position to start anything."
The conversation continued a little further, but she was clearly sullen. I dropped her off at home and told her I'd text her later.
What can I do? Just be sorry, but it's really not my fault. I value her friendship, I don't want to lose it.
Afterwards, we stopped off for a drink. Cal's not the biggest drinker, but I guess she's been trying plenty of new things since we got to Van City. As out first drinks arrived, I told her how much I had liked her last post, that it was nice to see her in a cheerier mood. She said she was really starting to enjoy pushing herself, and to look at "our" situation... not long ago, we barely knew each other, had none of the same friends, and now we're pretty close. This is true. It's not that I would have had anything against Cal back in Lowell, but we just didn't run with the same groups. We didn't relate. Now we're a bit more mature, and we have something in common. Something really serious, and known only to a few.
"So I mean..." she said quietly, folding and re-folding her paper napkin, "If we get, I mean when we get back, are we still going to be friends?"
"Of course," I said. "You're a really nice person."
"That's good," she said, "I was so worried that if we went back, then everything would just... revert. I'd wake up one morning and we'd be strangers again."
"Cal," I smiled, "Trust me, I won't be forgetting what we're going through."
"You should call me Angie, probably," she said.
"Right."
"Do you ever think about what we'd do if we were stuck, though?"
"I try not to."
"So you're looking forward to being a girl again?"
"Definitely!" I said.
"Why?" she asked, "I mean, I've been both, and I really would prefer to be a guy. No offense."
"None taken," I laughed, "It has its advantages. But I mean... it's not just about having a body, it's about having a home. Being with people you care about. I miss my family, I miss my dog, I miss Lowell... I had plans for my life, and they didn't really include this. If we had to stay, I'd make the best of it, I guess, but I'll be happier when we go back."
She agreed that was a good way to look at things. After a little longer, she finally worked up, I guess, the nerve to say what had been on her mind.
"Listen, Robbie, I just want to say I think you're such a great person... male or female, I really enjoy spending time with you."
I squirmed a little. I could see where this was going, but I wanted to let her get it out.
"I really like you, Robbie. Trish. Whatever happens, whatever we look like, you're someone that I would just... really like to spend time with. I think we should... like, date."
My heart sunk. I've been in this situation a few times before, where one side has feelings the other person just can't return, and I hoped that in these mixed-up bodies we could escape that. But I guess hormones have a strange way of working on a person. As much as Cal is a very nice person, I just didn't see her that way.
"I understand," she sighed. "It's too complicated anyway. I don't even know who I am anymore, you know? And plus, it's probably wrong to do that sort of thing in these bodies."
"Yeah," I said, just trying to make sure I didn't say anything to further disrupt the situation. "We're really not in a position to start anything."
The conversation continued a little further, but she was clearly sullen. I dropped her off at home and told her I'd text her later.
What can I do? Just be sorry, but it's really not my fault. I value her friendship, I don't want to lose it.
Wednesday, January 22, 2014
Cal/Angie: I could...
When I look myself in the mirror, I see a pretty girl.
Not a knockout. Not a bombshell. Not someone who's done up really pretty with makeup and all. nobody's fantasy, not even mine. But a pretty girl. I understand why guys look twice when they see me walking down the street, especially on days when I feel confident. And I won't lie, catching a glimpse of their head turning when I pass makes me walk that much taller. Like I have something they want. I know I do. And little by little I'm starting to realize what that means. A thin girl with a nice round face and pretty eyes, a little button nose and maybe a cute smile... I've tried to practice it in the mirror, but it always feels fake. But I've seen a few pictures of myself, particularly from New Year's Eve. It was like looking atanother girl, and I liked what I saw.
It's a quiet night. Chilly. The roommates have taken off, as per usual, and I'm on my own. I could flop down on the couch and channel surf, but part of me still feels like a guest here after a month, so I hole up in my room. I climb under my blankets and start to read, but something keeps distracting me. It's hard to say what, it's just that my thoughts wander.
I'm thirsty. I saw a bottle of gin on the counter. I've never tried it before. I'm sure they won't notice if I taste a little nip of it. I pour some 7up in a glass and try to add a splash of gin, but ... glub, I get a little extra. Well, there's no getting it back in the bottle. I hope I do like it.
I crawl back into bed, but the place seems to be warming up. It's cozy under the blankets, so I take off my sweater and slip into some PJs. Sip after sip the drink is growing on me, until I've had enough that it doesn't really make a difference how it tastes. I start to read again, and after a while I start top realize I'm running my hand up and down my breast. I wonder if I ever do this in public.
My mind starts to wander again. What's the difference, I think... between being alone with a girl and being alone as a girl? If I was a guy, I would think nothing of playing with myself. Why is this so normal? Why am I not naked all the time?
I take a breath as I start to realize exactly where this night is going. I slip my top off. The chilly air perks my nipples up. It feels strangely good. I wonder what it's like to have them get kissed. To have someone's hands running up and down my body. I rub my own hands over my skin and pretend they're someone else's.
"Yes..." I say out loud to nobody.
I spread my legs, as if there was someone crawling on top of me. My hand slips down my abdomen and into the waist of my PJs, feeling the fuzzy warmth between my legs. I only have half a second to wonder to myself "What am I doing?" but I already know the answer.
It's not the first time I've tried, but I could not get into it before. I wasn't ready. Now it's all I can think about. Doing this doesn't mean anything... it doesn't say anything about who I am or what I like, it's just this body. It's just my following this body's impulses. And I can tell it's reacting to something. I just want to see where it goes.
I must spend 20 minutes just lying there, massaging myself, writhing in joy, wondering if the pleasure is going to subside the way it did when I was a guy. But instead it grows. I spend a lot of time figuring out which parts feel good to touch, and which don't, and how to... I guess go between them. Just working up the nerve to get my fingers in there feels like a victory. I get this boost... It's like this tornado that keeps picking up momentum.
And then this thought pops into my head and I can't shake it... don't even want to. This person. I see them there, and I think "What if they were with me... right now..." and I keep going further and further...
It's all I can do to pause, even for a moment, just long enough to reach under the bed. It's there. I know it's there, because I put it there. I kept it there like a safety valve in case it ever got to this point. I even washed it. This big, long, pink, tube-shaped... device. Rounded, not "realistic." I don't think I could have handled looking at that, although I guess for my purposes tonight it doesn't make a difference.
I close my eyes and I see a face.And I tell myself, imagining this person's voice, "It's okay." Slowly, slowly I breach the inside, and... I feel it. In there. And for half a second I'm scared, but then it starts to move. And every part of me moves with it. I'm on my back, my knees are in the air.
By the end, I can hardly breathe. Is this it? Is this what it's like? What it would be like? What it's going to be like? I start to move it faster and faster, and I stop paying attention to how loud I'm being.
Outside, I hear the jangling of keys. The door opens. Two sets of footprints, the voices of my roommate and her boyfriend. They pop something in the microwave. I start getting really upset but I can't stop so I just... keep going as long as I can until...
Oh.
Oh...
OH.
OH!
And then I just laid there thinking about how I spent the whole night basically doing that... maybe not the whole night, but a lot longer than I used to. And I was just left with this lingering feeling of goodness. I was still thinking about it the next day... worrying about the person I imagined myself with, worrying about what would happen if they knew. Trying not to feel so guilty abut the pleasure. Making plans to do it again...
Not a knockout. Not a bombshell. Not someone who's done up really pretty with makeup and all. nobody's fantasy, not even mine. But a pretty girl. I understand why guys look twice when they see me walking down the street, especially on days when I feel confident. And I won't lie, catching a glimpse of their head turning when I pass makes me walk that much taller. Like I have something they want. I know I do. And little by little I'm starting to realize what that means. A thin girl with a nice round face and pretty eyes, a little button nose and maybe a cute smile... I've tried to practice it in the mirror, but it always feels fake. But I've seen a few pictures of myself, particularly from New Year's Eve. It was like looking atanother girl, and I liked what I saw.
It's a quiet night. Chilly. The roommates have taken off, as per usual, and I'm on my own. I could flop down on the couch and channel surf, but part of me still feels like a guest here after a month, so I hole up in my room. I climb under my blankets and start to read, but something keeps distracting me. It's hard to say what, it's just that my thoughts wander.
I'm thirsty. I saw a bottle of gin on the counter. I've never tried it before. I'm sure they won't notice if I taste a little nip of it. I pour some 7up in a glass and try to add a splash of gin, but ... glub, I get a little extra. Well, there's no getting it back in the bottle. I hope I do like it.
I crawl back into bed, but the place seems to be warming up. It's cozy under the blankets, so I take off my sweater and slip into some PJs. Sip after sip the drink is growing on me, until I've had enough that it doesn't really make a difference how it tastes. I start to read again, and after a while I start top realize I'm running my hand up and down my breast. I wonder if I ever do this in public.
My mind starts to wander again. What's the difference, I think... between being alone with a girl and being alone as a girl? If I was a guy, I would think nothing of playing with myself. Why is this so normal? Why am I not naked all the time?
I take a breath as I start to realize exactly where this night is going. I slip my top off. The chilly air perks my nipples up. It feels strangely good. I wonder what it's like to have them get kissed. To have someone's hands running up and down my body. I rub my own hands over my skin and pretend they're someone else's.
"Yes..." I say out loud to nobody.
I spread my legs, as if there was someone crawling on top of me. My hand slips down my abdomen and into the waist of my PJs, feeling the fuzzy warmth between my legs. I only have half a second to wonder to myself "What am I doing?" but I already know the answer.
It's not the first time I've tried, but I could not get into it before. I wasn't ready. Now it's all I can think about. Doing this doesn't mean anything... it doesn't say anything about who I am or what I like, it's just this body. It's just my following this body's impulses. And I can tell it's reacting to something. I just want to see where it goes.
I must spend 20 minutes just lying there, massaging myself, writhing in joy, wondering if the pleasure is going to subside the way it did when I was a guy. But instead it grows. I spend a lot of time figuring out which parts feel good to touch, and which don't, and how to... I guess go between them. Just working up the nerve to get my fingers in there feels like a victory. I get this boost... It's like this tornado that keeps picking up momentum.
And then this thought pops into my head and I can't shake it... don't even want to. This person. I see them there, and I think "What if they were with me... right now..." and I keep going further and further...
It's all I can do to pause, even for a moment, just long enough to reach under the bed. It's there. I know it's there, because I put it there. I kept it there like a safety valve in case it ever got to this point. I even washed it. This big, long, pink, tube-shaped... device. Rounded, not "realistic." I don't think I could have handled looking at that, although I guess for my purposes tonight it doesn't make a difference.
I close my eyes and I see a face.And I tell myself, imagining this person's voice, "It's okay." Slowly, slowly I breach the inside, and... I feel it. In there. And for half a second I'm scared, but then it starts to move. And every part of me moves with it. I'm on my back, my knees are in the air.
By the end, I can hardly breathe. Is this it? Is this what it's like? What it would be like? What it's going to be like? I start to move it faster and faster, and I stop paying attention to how loud I'm being.
Outside, I hear the jangling of keys. The door opens. Two sets of footprints, the voices of my roommate and her boyfriend. They pop something in the microwave. I start getting really upset but I can't stop so I just... keep going as long as I can until...
Oh.
Oh...
OH.
OH!
And then I just laid there thinking about how I spent the whole night basically doing that... maybe not the whole night, but a lot longer than I used to. And I was just left with this lingering feeling of goodness. I was still thinking about it the next day... worrying about the person I imagined myself with, worrying about what would happen if they knew. Trying not to feel so guilty abut the pleasure. Making plans to do it again...
Saturday, January 18, 2014
Tori: Missed me?
I'd apologize for neglecting my place on this blog, but from the looks of it there's been a lot more interesting stuff going on on the opposite coast. To all of you out there in Vancouver, I wish you the best, whatever happens this year.
As for me, things have settled over the last few months into an almost uncomfortably tight status quo. I work, I hang out with Raine & her guy, I watch Walking Dead or American Horror Story... I see friends, and I date a little.
A little. I don't know if there's something wrong with me, if I'm actively afraid of romantic success at this point, but the last year or so has totally wrecked me for commitment. I go weeks between dates, I have a brief fling, and even if I get a little comfy or intimate, I find a reason to cool off on them. So I've been pretty silent on here because I didn't want to start writing about another guy and have it come to nothing. I wanted to come back with big news, but it still hasn't happened. After all these years of being out there and flitting around trying to enjoy being Tori, I've become accustomed to a certain level of company that I'm just not finding from any of the guys I've met.
Except...
Well, this is awful. For the last few months I've been grappling with a bit of a crush I've developed on a co-worker. He's in one of the departments I deal with most frequently and we've developed a good shorthand with each other, bonding over shared jokes and weird obscure references. It helps that he's closer to my original age, so our experience more or less lines up.
Except he's married. And he has a newborn son.
I don't feel good about myself, and to be fair I have been doing everything to forget him, but I can't avoid him at work, and I wouldn't want to, because his friendship means something to me. He's one of the first male friends I've had, my own actual friend not just second hand ones... who wasn't gay, and who I couldn't date, since I became Tori. I want that to stay pure, because pursuing it in any way would be an absolutely shitty thing to do.
It started out just as a work thing, but then one day back in November I was saying how I wanted to go see Thor: The Dark World, and he said he'd be up for it, since his wife hates going to the movies. "Really?" I said, "She'd be okay with you going to the movies with another woman?"
"Yes," he said, "Because my wife is an extremely cool person. Not much of a comic fan, but a cool person nonetheless."
We ended up talking about the Marvel cinematic universe and a whole bunch of other stuff for over an hour afterwards over coffee. A little later we had the company Christmas party and the wife left early. Part of me worried that I might get so drunk I'd lose my inhibitions and say something I shouldn't. As near as I can tell this did not occur.
These things happen. People get attached. They get crushes. Innocent thoughts. As long as I don't do anything, it shouldn't be a problem. I just need to double my efforts to find an available man who fills this same niche. Shouldn't be hard, right? Come on, Philly!
As for me, things have settled over the last few months into an almost uncomfortably tight status quo. I work, I hang out with Raine & her guy, I watch Walking Dead or American Horror Story... I see friends, and I date a little.
A little. I don't know if there's something wrong with me, if I'm actively afraid of romantic success at this point, but the last year or so has totally wrecked me for commitment. I go weeks between dates, I have a brief fling, and even if I get a little comfy or intimate, I find a reason to cool off on them. So I've been pretty silent on here because I didn't want to start writing about another guy and have it come to nothing. I wanted to come back with big news, but it still hasn't happened. After all these years of being out there and flitting around trying to enjoy being Tori, I've become accustomed to a certain level of company that I'm just not finding from any of the guys I've met.
Except...
Well, this is awful. For the last few months I've been grappling with a bit of a crush I've developed on a co-worker. He's in one of the departments I deal with most frequently and we've developed a good shorthand with each other, bonding over shared jokes and weird obscure references. It helps that he's closer to my original age, so our experience more or less lines up.
Except he's married. And he has a newborn son.
I don't feel good about myself, and to be fair I have been doing everything to forget him, but I can't avoid him at work, and I wouldn't want to, because his friendship means something to me. He's one of the first male friends I've had, my own actual friend not just second hand ones... who wasn't gay, and who I couldn't date, since I became Tori. I want that to stay pure, because pursuing it in any way would be an absolutely shitty thing to do.
It started out just as a work thing, but then one day back in November I was saying how I wanted to go see Thor: The Dark World, and he said he'd be up for it, since his wife hates going to the movies. "Really?" I said, "She'd be okay with you going to the movies with another woman?"
"Yes," he said, "Because my wife is an extremely cool person. Not much of a comic fan, but a cool person nonetheless."
We ended up talking about the Marvel cinematic universe and a whole bunch of other stuff for over an hour afterwards over coffee. A little later we had the company Christmas party and the wife left early. Part of me worried that I might get so drunk I'd lose my inhibitions and say something I shouldn't. As near as I can tell this did not occur.
These things happen. People get attached. They get crushes. Innocent thoughts. As long as I don't do anything, it shouldn't be a problem. I just need to double my efforts to find an available man who fills this same niche. Shouldn't be hard, right? Come on, Philly!
Saturday, January 04, 2014
Cal/Angie: New year, new... friends
I'm trying to spend less time feeling sorry for myself. I think that might be the reason I don't post a lot lately is because I can't resist the urge just to think "I suck." Like I suck as a human being, a man and a woman simultaneously. I was feeling really bad for the holidays, until New Years.
So basically, the fallout from this burglary thing is that it's kind of cut me off from the others. I still text with Trish/Robbie some, and she's been very insistent that she's not taking sides in this, but the three of them (Keisha, Mona and Robbie, aka James, Derek and Trish) spent new years together and it's just too awkward for me to even consider trying to go back with them. I thought about seeing if Grant/Sophie had anything going on (I'm sure it was wild) or maybe if Roy/Christine wasn't doing anything too coupley... but no, I decided I was just going to stay home, have one drink, and go to bed early.
Then around 7 I got a text from my coworker David. A bunch of people from Angie's circle of friends, the friends I've basically been neglecting, were having a thing and I had to come. I resisted, but he just wouldn't take no for an answer and wore me down. I didn't even pretty myself up or anything, I just threw on some tights and a top and went over to his place expecting to basically suck the fun out of the party with my presence.
The opposite happened. The whole thing really lifted me up... they all made it really clear that for better or worse they are my friends - or Angie's anyway, and whatever I'm going through I can count on them.
And if I doubted they were serious... they took up a collection and bought a bunch of replacement stuff that got stolen, including the same model of laptop that Derek lost. Like... holy shit. I nearly bawled. Half of these people I don't even really know. But for a night I forgot that I'm not Angie, and I took all their love for my own.
After a few drinks, they started passing a joint around... and I was resistant at first, but I saw all these people basically being smart, functioning people, not insane stoner cliches (well some of them were) or messed-up druggies, just really smart, individualistic people, and if they can handle it, why couldn't I?
I didn't feel it too much, but it made me really want to touch people. Like, it made me feel really secure if I just... wrapped my arms around someone. I spent half the night sitting on the couch with my arms around a girl named Jen. And In my head, it's like "If I was a guy, I'd have such a boner right now... I can feel her breathing." But it was such a reminder that I'm not a guy... not that it wasn't nice, but there was no real lady-boner that I could tell.
Then Jen disappeared, and David took her place, and... well, it got a little complicated. He was very comfortable with his arms around me, and I felt so nice and compact in his arms, and I realized that he really likes me, or Angie, and... I mean, between him and Jen, it was almost the same. Almost. But I would give the edge a bit more to David, and I thought "I could kiss him. Right now. Just move my face a little closer..."
No harm in that. The others have all talked about how they have, or would, and I don't want to be a dumb prude anymore.
But I didn't. And the feeling wore off. And now it's super awkward, I just can't stop thinking about what if he made a move, what if I made a move... was it just for the night, or could I go back to it? Should we talk about it?
Do I want that? Is it smart for me to try? No, right? It's only a few weeks until I make a reservation to the Inn. I don't need to go complicating things at all.
But this issue isn't going to go away... sleepless nights and weird dreams about a handsome guy with a beard make that pretty clear.
So basically, the fallout from this burglary thing is that it's kind of cut me off from the others. I still text with Trish/Robbie some, and she's been very insistent that she's not taking sides in this, but the three of them (Keisha, Mona and Robbie, aka James, Derek and Trish) spent new years together and it's just too awkward for me to even consider trying to go back with them. I thought about seeing if Grant/Sophie had anything going on (I'm sure it was wild) or maybe if Roy/Christine wasn't doing anything too coupley... but no, I decided I was just going to stay home, have one drink, and go to bed early.
Then around 7 I got a text from my coworker David. A bunch of people from Angie's circle of friends, the friends I've basically been neglecting, were having a thing and I had to come. I resisted, but he just wouldn't take no for an answer and wore me down. I didn't even pretty myself up or anything, I just threw on some tights and a top and went over to his place expecting to basically suck the fun out of the party with my presence.
The opposite happened. The whole thing really lifted me up... they all made it really clear that for better or worse they are my friends - or Angie's anyway, and whatever I'm going through I can count on them.
And if I doubted they were serious... they took up a collection and bought a bunch of replacement stuff that got stolen, including the same model of laptop that Derek lost. Like... holy shit. I nearly bawled. Half of these people I don't even really know. But for a night I forgot that I'm not Angie, and I took all their love for my own.
After a few drinks, they started passing a joint around... and I was resistant at first, but I saw all these people basically being smart, functioning people, not insane stoner cliches (well some of them were) or messed-up druggies, just really smart, individualistic people, and if they can handle it, why couldn't I?
I didn't feel it too much, but it made me really want to touch people. Like, it made me feel really secure if I just... wrapped my arms around someone. I spent half the night sitting on the couch with my arms around a girl named Jen. And In my head, it's like "If I was a guy, I'd have such a boner right now... I can feel her breathing." But it was such a reminder that I'm not a guy... not that it wasn't nice, but there was no real lady-boner that I could tell.
Then Jen disappeared, and David took her place, and... well, it got a little complicated. He was very comfortable with his arms around me, and I felt so nice and compact in his arms, and I realized that he really likes me, or Angie, and... I mean, between him and Jen, it was almost the same. Almost. But I would give the edge a bit more to David, and I thought "I could kiss him. Right now. Just move my face a little closer..."
No harm in that. The others have all talked about how they have, or would, and I don't want to be a dumb prude anymore.
But I didn't. And the feeling wore off. And now it's super awkward, I just can't stop thinking about what if he made a move, what if I made a move... was it just for the night, or could I go back to it? Should we talk about it?
Do I want that? Is it smart for me to try? No, right? It's only a few weeks until I make a reservation to the Inn. I don't need to go complicating things at all.
But this issue isn't going to go away... sleepless nights and weird dreams about a handsome guy with a beard make that pretty clear.
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