Transplanted Life
Thursday, December 30, 2004
This sibling thing is kind of neat
I don't remember ever feeling particularly deprived as Martin, growing up without brothers or sisters. I think my parents had resigned themselves to not having children until I came along when Mom was almost forty, so that wasn't in the cards. But you can't really miss what you don't have until you know it's missing, and there's something about having Telly around that's kind of neat.

I'm still really uncomfortable with him calling me Michelle, Shelley, 'Chelle, or any variant thereof. A couple of times, he's started a comment with "just like when..." and then chuckled when I didn't betray any knowledge of what I'm talking about. Then he'll go "aaaaaaah, you're good, Shelley! You've almost got me thinking you don't really remember! You ought to go into the movies - I always knew you had the body for it, but I didn't realize you had the talent, too."

Typing it out, that last sentence sounds creepy, but that's the thing - it's not. I've had this body for a year and a half, and Telly is the first heterosexual guy who can talk like that to me and have there be no innuendo to it. And it's like something in my brain is combining the fact that we've got the same eyes and sort of similar cheekbones with, I don't know, something in the way he smells or whatever, and just turning off the hormones when we talk. Truth be told, it's an incredible relief. Almost all of my friends are women, and even if none of them are quite so girly as Maureen, it's awesome to be able to hang out with a guy and have there be no sexual tension.

I mean, none at all. Yesterday morning as I was getting dressed, I realized I'd left my hair clip in the bathroom. Completely forgetting Telly was in the living room, I ran to get it with only a bra above the level of my jeans. Telly's in there brushing his teeth, and asks me a few questions about where the laundry room is and stuff without once looking at my breasts. And it's not like he's gay, going from his disappointment upon learning that Maureen is. That's just cool.

In some ways, I feel a little bummed that he'll be moving to his new place on Saturday; this big-sister gig is something I could get used to. But I really shouldn't, because, frankly, I'm not his big sister, and it's not fair to either of us to pretend.

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