Transplanted Life
Saturday, August 02, 2003
So, I called Kurt last night. The whole thing with Kurt is weird, because I have to keep reminding myself that my best friend really doesn't know who I am. As far as he knows, I'm some random girl he met in a bar who dissed him and then apologized a few days later.

That said... I had some fun with it. Normally, those calls to someone where you've exchanged phone numbers and are trying to set up a date are awkward things where you're trying to guess what the other person likes, and trying to come up with something to do that won't make you look like a complete clod. They just suck. They are, quite frankly, enough to put one off dating entirely. They're a necessary evil that you go through because otherwise, you're never going to get to know this person who was at least attractive when you were both drinking better, you won't get much chance to do the things people do on dates but not by themselves like eating out and going to concerts, and you won't be "getting any" a few dates down the line.

Now, consider my position - I know this guy. I really don't want to "get any" in my current condition (or would it be "giving any"?). Any sort of new relationship that would spring from it would be inherently based upon lies, and even if by some cruel - and, really, unimaginable - irony I found myself falling in love with Kurt (this is hypothetical, remember), I could have it dashed when this body's rightful owner takes it back. Or that Kurt would be stuck dating Michelle, and I'm not sure I'd wish a relationship with the woman who did this to me on anyone, much less a good friend. And yet, from the maddeningly vague letter Michelle left me, I have to do this or face some sort of consequences. And I don't have to fumble around - I have some idea what Kurt likes in a girl beyond the fine physical attributes Michelle has.

So, I pick up the phone, and when he says hello, I tell him that I'm talking to him from the bathtub, "because I figured, why just sit there?" The guy has a weird, I don't know if it's a fetish, but predisposition to women in the tub. The background on his computer, two prints on his walls... He likes naked girls, but seems to need a reason for them to be naked, even if that reason keeps him from actually seeing their nakedness. He's funny that way.

Anyway, he's stammering, and since I've heard the memorized things he says to stop stammering while talking to a woman on the phone back when we were roommates in college, I'm able to finish sentences. It kind of feels good - not only does it hook him so that we can go out like Michelle obviously expects us to, but it keeps me in control of the situation, when I've got far more reason to be timid than he does.

When all was said and done, we wound up making a date for dinner and a movie tomorrow evening. He's got pretty decent taste in movies, so we won't be looking at another Morvern Callar incident.

Of course, after I hung up, I ran to the bathroom and hurled. I'd played along like it was some kind of game, but once it sank in that in about 48 hours I'd be going out on a date with another guy. It's not just a homophobic thing, though - I'll be lying to someone I like, and involving him in this whole bizarre business. And why? Because I want my body back, and this may - may! - be something I have to do to get it, what it means to other people be damned.

It's not really a nice thing to do, is it? I mean, I can tell myself that I'm just being true to my word that I would go for him if I was a woman, but even though I really do think Michelle could do a lot worse... It's just using him, and I also think my friends deserve better than that.

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Note: This blog is a work of fantasy; all characters are either ficticious or used ficticiously. The author may be contacted at