Transplanted Life
Sunday, January 15, 2006
$ = :)
Yeah, it's shallow, but seeing your paycheck half again as large as your last one is just really awesome. Well, not half again, three-quarters, because it only covered the first week, but when you double it to figure out what it would be in comparison... OK, I'm a big nerd. I'll get my last paycheck from the warehouse in the mail sometime this week, so I'll be back ahead of the game then.

It is not yet time to start buying frivolous things at an accelerated rate - or, if you ask my friends, a more accelerated rate - but it's still a good feeling. Besides, it's been tough picking up the check when I have a night out with Misha.

Yeah, I know. Kate laughed about it last night, when she saw me buying both movie tickets, because at first she was going to snort, but then looked at us and Carter and figured that maybe, in a way, this was the natural order of things. Misha looked embarrassed, saying that it was only temporary; when he's got a job, he'll be picking up more tabs, but until then. Kate says why, you've got a pretty good situation going on here, but he laughed it off, saying that it's part of the whole peeing standing up deal - if he likes one part of the new arrangement, he's got to go with the rest.

I have to admit, though... I like picking up the tab. Sure, when I first started going out with guys, it was more a "the world owes me some restitution" thing, but even after I got cool with my body, I still accepted that the guys were going to pay the bills, and I understood and was OK with it. When you're a guy, and you're out with a girl, you're bigger and usually a bit older in most pairings, and there's this knowledge that she has likely spent more than you on her appearance and such. So you pay and it's the right thing to do.

And, okay, I've been a girl for two and a half years, and even if I'm able to feel some wind because there's a few inches of bare leg, or I can taste my lipstick, or the clicky heel sound is in tempo with my steps... Thirty years of training is tought to ignore. I still want to be the guy, even if I know there is a perfectly good reason for my date to be paying for everything. The new job just encourages that line of thought; I feel like I'm finally able to pull my own weight.

I'll have to dial that urge back a little; Misha's been hitting every Help Wanted sign in town and is trying to work out a way to present his hospitality industry resumé to get a job in that area without having to go through an interview process even more insane than mine (I've already put him in touch with Mo, in case she knows of anything). Of course, he's got to get some new paperwork, which the Feds are working on, so that's making it difficult - his body was born oversees and thus doesn't have a social security number, and I'm kind of using the one she instinctively writes on forms. He's lucky that Telly and his roommates are good with him crashing there.

But I'll miss it, even if it does mean more money in the bank for me. It feels good to be responsible.

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