Transplanted Life
Wednesday, November 19, 2003
I've finally got enough hair for a decent-looking ponytail, so that's what had when I showed up to the Weekly Wednesday Ass-Kicking, along with some jeans with tears at the knees and a white Boston Film Festival T-shirt (which looked just elegant along with the black bra). Hey, it's Boston, and you enjoy those 60-degree nights in November whenever they appear. Jen just shook her head when she saw me, and asked whether this was some sort of adverse reaction to getting a little dolled up the night before.

Oh, no, I told her, I just really have to do laundry after the movie. Besides, I said with a grin, the makeup and stuff got the job done last night.

Jen got all excited about me "meeting someone" until I said I probably wouldn't be seeing him again. Don't get me wrong, we had fun, but the only way to shut him up was to actually put something in his mouth and my nipples were sore this morning. Her first reaction to that was along the lines of "ooooooooooooooo-kay", but after that she started wanting details. Carlos would have been embarassed if he'd been able to make it, the amount of questions that Jen asked about this guy's physique and technique. I'm really paying attention during sex, not just so that I better know what girls like when I get my own body back, but because I'm acutely aware that what I do will be Monday-morning quarterbacked by all my lovers' girlfriends.

No Kurt or Wei tonight, and I had to pull Jen's hand down and shrink down in front of the seat when she tried to wave Hamish over. "What's that about? You seemed to be getting along pretty well at the bar last week."

"The bar was fine. It was the morning after and the next evening that wasn't quite as cool."

Jen's eyes got a little wider. "You've been busy."

"Geez, just one or two others in the last couple weeks."

She was about to say something, but then the emcee came to introduce Sonny Chiba's The Executioner (which was, honestly, more fun that the movie, which was a cruddy print dubbed in English by the cast of speed racer). Afterward, she scribbled something on a piece of paper and handed it to me.

"What's this?" Well, obviously, it was a phone number, under the name "Paul Draper".

"Remember the guy in the Godzilla costume at the party? He's Carlos's old partner, he liked you a lot, and I've been meaning to give this to you anyway. He'd be way better for you than a bunch of one-night stands."

"But I'm not looking for a relationship right now. I just got out of one, and I had another long one before that. Can't I just enjoy getting laid without getting tangled up in something?"

We were almost at the train stop by that time, and she turned around and grabbed me just below the shoulders. She's pretty strong for a girl, and I was surprised how intent she was on this. "Come on, Michelle, you're smarter than that!"

It took both hands for me to pull one of hers off my arm; she was kind of surprised to see she'd grabbed me and let go with the other. "Look, Jen, I appreciate it, but it's no big deal. I'm just enjoying my state of unattachment right now. You might say I'm sampling, trying to figure out what I like. This is no big deal for guys, you know."

"But we're not guys." She sighed, and from the way she paused before continuing, I thought she knew what I was. "Look at it this way - remember how you screamed at the TV because of how Grady Little couldn't handle a pitching staff?"

I got conversational whiplash, and told her so.

"It's a metaphor, silly. Look, you stayed with Kurt too long, even after everyone around you could see it was a bad idea and he certainly wasn't giving you 100%, just like Gump did with his starters. But that doesn't mean you go all the way in the other direction. You were the one who kept insisting that if you keep changing relievers, you're eventually going to find the guy in the bullpen with nothing that day who gives up four home runs before the next guy is ready. You get what I'm saying?"

I guessed I did, and made a show of folding the piece of paper and putting it in my pocket. The train was pulling up, so she said she'd see me at work tomorrow "and for God's sake, go home!"

So I did, and put a load of clothes in the wash before firing this up. Jen's got the best of intentions, I know, but she thinks like a woman and expects me too. That's not an insult; it just means that even a tomboyish girl who gets herself a degree in computer science on partial athletic scholarship is still taught to see the world a certain way. Maybe the world would be a better place if men were as strongly focused on relationship as opposed to individual satisfaction as women are (or so the stereotype goes), but maybe a lot more people would be sacrificing their own happiness just to fit in with others' expectations, too.

But, I'll keep the number anyway. I must admit, I've been a little curious about the guy in the suit since the party, and just because I'm a man (at heart, if not presently at body) doesn't mean empty sex is all I want. If I'm going to be sampling, I might as well sample relationships, too.

If and after I get bored with the sex for sex's sake.


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