Phase 3: Relationships
If one morning I woke up and was a man, but with my brain, what would I do?
Phase 3: Relationships
It’s later that evening. We’re sitting at a window in a pizzaria in midtown. The date with Jane went pretty well. She’s pretty and funny and I like her. All I could think about was how to get her home later. After the fist few minutes of conversation she started to vent about how annoying her friends were and I started to lose interest. Why do girls get so whiney about things that don’t matter? It’s like, they take an idea or a concept and then beat it to death with the sound of their voice. I patiently listened, but found my mind wandering to what her chest would look like once I’ve taken off her shirt.
At one point she excused herself to go use the bathroom. As she stood up she readjusted her waist high, skin-tight, black pants and pulled down her V-neck T-shirt to fit her sternum better. I smiled as I watched her do this. Girls need to adjust, we have to wear so many things that even the act of sitting can throw everything out of wack. I looked at my plain T-shirt and pants and felt blessed. Even if I am a guy for only 24 hours, this is pretty cool. No bra. No thong. I’m not even worried about what my hair looks like. Jane’s probably going to the bathroom to not only pee, but to fix her hair, adjust her make-up and give herself a pep-up by texting one of her girlfriends.
I watched her leave and caught the eye of two middle aged Italian men also watching Jane. They looked back at me. “You’ve got quite a nice little thing.” Said the first. He was balding and had two pinky rings on. The second chuckled. “If I were younger, I would waste no time eating pizza, but get her back to my place lickety-split.” The Pinky Ring guy said again. His partner, a salt-and-pepper haired man wearing a polo shirt, chuckled. I smiled, unsure of how to respond. Men NEVER talk to me like that as a woman. Instead, they watch me as I cross the room, and caress me with their eyes so hard I feel like I develop bruises. These two Men were now forming a fraternity with me just because we all have a penis (well, all of us at the moment.) I suddenly wished I could change back into the woman I was and then take hold of the bread roll in front of me and beat them with it. I felt ashamed. Not even five minutes ago I was planning on which ways to have sex with this girl the fastest and now felt totally perverted. She deserves to be worshipped!
Jane got back from the bathroom as the middle aged men were paying their check and getting up to leave. The one with the pinky rings came over and slapped my back. “Nice.” He said as he pulled out a twenty dollar bill and put it in my hand. “Buy her some flowers or something.” He murmured, never taking his eyes off of Jane, who was pretending to check her phone and not notice. “Thanks.” I said, taking the money and watching them leave.
Outside the restaurant, Jane was quiet. I tried to recall what would be pissing her off with what was quickly becoming a weaker memory of being a girl. As a guy, I was back to imagining what her butt would feel like. I tried to clear my thoughts. “You okay?” I asked. She was quiet for a minute. I felt a stab of deep awkwardness. Oh, the silent treatment. God, that sucks. Once I am a girl again, I’m going to try not to ever use the silent treatment. As a guy, it’s really fucking annoying because I truly don’t know what’s wrong. Really. I don’t. I didn’t catch some stupid nuance that you caught and decided to make a big deal out of. Explain it to me. I felt incredibly annoyed because something happened that I did wrong and I don’t know how to rectify it. Plus, I had to pay the whole damn bill, so you can at least be nicer to me. She didn’t even offer! Thank god I had the twenty, it made a really expensive evening a do-able evening.
“Why did you take that twenty from that creepy old man?” Jane finally asked.
Ooooohhh… There it is. “Because he was offering.” I said. Duh.
“They were really weird and were looking me up and down and you took money from them. I feel like I did something to get them off, and you got paid for it.” She quipped, her voice getting higher.
“Do you want the twenty?” I asked.
“NO. I don’t WANT their money! Okay? I wish you had been a MAN and given it back to them. They were GROSS.”
We walked in silence again. If I were a girl, we probably would have laughed about this. This was dumb. Just another “guy not getting it” situation. But, I’m not a guy. I mean, I am, but only temporarily. I went over a mental checklist of things I could do to save the situation. I still wanted to feel her up and feel what it would be like to have a blow job, but was feeling less and less likely that any of that would happen.
As we walked I watched New York City around us. A small pudgy girl walking next to her mom was wearing a tiara and sucking her thumb. She was covered head to toe in pink. She looked up at Jane and took in the image of a young woman, probably to obsess over in years to come and use as a reference for why she wasn’t as pretty enough. Jane was pretty. I was handsome. Of course we would go on a date together. I thought of the men I had turned down. The men I had humored. The men I had ignored. Getting Jane to go out with me was just about one of the easiest dates I had ever accomplished. Guys never just “go out.” As a woman, I had to wait for them to text me, wait for them to pick a spot. Wait for them to pick a day. Then, if the date went well, wait for them to respond. That’s the game I’ve found with attractive men. They can get a girl instantly. Like I got Jane. I looked at her walking next to me. A thought flashed in my mind: you’re totally replaceable. I don’t have to put up with this.
A subway stop came into view. “Is that the NR stop?” She asked, squinting. It was. “I think I’ll hop in here and head back to Astoria.” She said, looking at me. Ah, doing the whole “You gonna ask me over tonight?” look. I recognized it immediately. I took her hand, feeling how fancy it felt in my big hand. Damn, women are beautiful.
“I’m sorry about the twenty.” I said. “I had a great time. You’re really pretty. It was nice getting to know you.” I pulled her in for a kiss and felt her melt into my chest. For the record: telling a woman they look nice is ALWAYS a good way to bail oneself out of a nasty situation. Whether you are a guy, a girl, or a girl in a guy’s body. Seriously. We smooched for a minute or two before pulling away from each other.
“I’m going to go home.” I said. Feeling an unnatural exhaustion coming over me.
“Wanna do this again sometime?” She asked.
“Maybe.” I said. Feeling more and more tired by the second. I needed to get home and go to sleep. Something was telling me that this romp as a dude was coming to an end. I looked at my cell phone which read 11pm. Carriage turns back to a pumpkin at midnight, I guess. I thought. That’s really cliche. I turned to the street and hailed a cab to take me back home. Jane stood a little dumbfounded on the corner as my cab pulled away.
That night, as I lay in bed, I thought about the adventures I had had as a man. The difference in how I was treated. I wished everyone could have the same experience. I felt different, but more ready to be a woman than I had ever felt. I’m going to write a book about this and no one will believe that it actually happened. I thought before drifting off to sleep.
April 15, 2013 at 4:44 pm by Natalie Allen