Transplanted Life
Sunday, July 11, 2004
Sharing beds
Okay, I'll admit it. Sleeping with Doug wasn't all I had hoped it would be. I mean, he's good, don't get me wrong, but he overthought everything. It's understandable, of course. Heck, in most cases it would be laudable for one's bed partner to think "if I were the girl, would I enjoy this?" But let's also not forget that this is sex we're talking about; you've got to act on instinct a little. If you want to squeeze my breast, just do it; if it hurts or I don't like it, I will let you know, and we can go (or stop) from there.

Granted, this may not just be me; Kate had mentioned that she and he stopped dating because they just weren't compatible in bed. Still, you'd have to think a good-looking, successful thirty-two year-old man like Doug would have learned that a little consideration goes a long way, and women like it to just happen at its own pace the same way that men do (or at least, that's what I've found). Okay, I'm a weird case, and maybe next time he'll be more comfortable, now that he's confirmed the presence and normal response of my vagina.

Still - awkward. I use that word a lot when talking about Doug. It's just a weird relationship - he was pretty clearly the one who was first attracted to me, and I've grown to like him, but in that time it's like the full implications of who I am has hit him, and his left brain is trying to outshout his biological urges. Maybe it'd be better if we went the "just friends" route, except that now we've had sex, and I've got no idea whether me having the memories and most of the personality of a man would make it easier or harder for him to put it behind us. If we even want to; maybe he just needs to relax.

So, anyway, quiet drive home this morning/early afternoon. Not just me and Doug, but Carter and Maureen. I kind of knew Carter had something he wanted to talk about, but I had a shift at four and we didn't have any time without Maureen around until I got back.

First, he apologized for all the times I'd used the sleeping bag in the old apartment. He and Maureen had been sharing a room, and he'd taken the floor, even though Maureen looked at him funny. I pointed out that Maureen was a girl, not much older than he appeared to be, and that the whole latent homophobia thing wasn't as big a deal with 20-year-old girls as it was for us 30-year-old men. Girls dance with each other in clubs, have slumber parties all through high school, and give each other hello and goodbye kisses on the cheek without looking suspicious. Carter acting like a guy and being all weird about sharing her bed probably struck her as odd.

That made Carter even more uncomfortable, because he really doesn't want to stand out and have people ask questions that he has to answer. He just mentioned that even after living with her for a couple weeks, he hadn't quite realized how cute she was - did I know Maureen had freckles on her back - and figured he might not trust his unconscious mind. Fair enough, I said, but if you want to blend, you're going to have to get past some of those hang-ups.

And, yes, I did notice that Maureen had freckles. And, now that I think of it, so do you. He said it wasn't true, but I told him a day in the sun must have brought them out. He was aghast when he checked in the bathroom mirror, since he's just not cut out for the whole "cute" thing, but I guess one doesn't really have much choice in the matter. I told him it was possible to cover it up and he glared at me before I could even say the word "make-up".

So he just headed to bed, wondering when the girlish indignities would end. So frustrated and he hasn't even had sex yet.

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