by Beth Burnett
But I wasn’t to learn that until college. Middle school was still a torture. When we were in the eighth grade, I was an outcast. The boys were starting to realize that they didn’t want girls to play sports with them. And the girls were starting to put on makeup and spray their hair up into ridiculous sculptures. That was the year that Davey went crazy for Forenza sweaters that she wore backwards so the big v of the neck was on her back. The colors were bizarre. She would wear a bright teal sweater with a yellow tank top underneath. And that stupid fedora. God, she was adorable, though.
I thought I was really cool with my acid-washed jeans and baggy blazers. The other kids didn’t. They couldn’t understand why I preferred dressing like a boy. I couldn’t understand it, either. I didn’t want to be a boy. I just knew I felt more comfortable dressed in men’s clothing. I had all sorts of problems with the snooty bitches in school, but for the most part, they were content to ignore me. It was Julie Corcoran and her gang that truly went out of their way to torment me. On the plus side, I saw Julie at the grocery store one day and she looked completely haggard. Saggy face, hair still blonde, but obviously dyed. I know it’s shallow, but I laughed to myself. And when she recognized me and said “Hello”, I pretended that I didn’t know who she was. It doesn’t speak well of me, I know, but then, they were really horrible to me.
I remember a day in the lunch room, trying to eat quickly so I could escape back to the library. I was a jock, but that didn’t help in middle school. In high school, it started to make a big difference for me, but in middle school, it didn’t help at all. Julie Corcoran and her gang of big-haired, Swatch-wearing in-crowd girls approached my table.
“Hey, Andy. Where’s your girlfriend?”
I ignored them, looking off at the wall as if they weren’t there.
Julie reached over and took the milk off of my tray.
“Did you hear me, Andy?”
I continued to ignore her. Engaging with these bitches was not a good idea.
One of Julie’s lackeys sat down next to me. “Hey, Andy. If I sit next to you, will I become a homo, too?’
The girls all started laughing. The guys at the next table, guys I had played ball with for years, watched, but didn’t get involved.
“She sure looks like a guy,” one of the girls said.
“Maybe when she gets her period, she’ll look like a woman,” Julie responded.
I was getting pissed. I could beat the fuck out of any of these girls or all of them at once. But it wasn’t cool to hit girls, no matter how richly they deserved it.
Julie had been playing with my carton of milk the whole time. Finally, she gave it a hard squeeze and it exploded all over me. I jumped to my feet, knocking over my chair and grabbed her by the collar.
“Listen, you little bitch!”
“Hey, hey, hey! What’s going on here?”
One of the teachers was running toward us.
I released Julie and backed up, grabbing a couple of napkins to try to wipe the milk off of me as the teacher, Mr. Albert, had reached us.
“Well? What’s the problem?”
Julie looked at Mr. Albert and her eyes filled with tears. “She grabbed me. It hurt.”
Her friends gathered around her with fake shows of sympathy. Mr. Albert motioned to me.
“Come on down to the principal’s office.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“I know what I saw.”
He escorted me to the principal’s office while Julie and her friends congratulated themselves behind me. That’s the problem with being bigger than everyone else. No one ever believes that I didn’t start it.
I stood in front of the principal, covered with milk. Derek White smiled at me over his desk.
“Andy, what happened?”
“Those evil demons disguised as middle school cheerleaders attacked me.”
He shook his head. “You need to ignore them.”
“It’s hard to ignore them when they’re spraying milk all over me.”
“Andy, just try to get along until you get to high school.”
“Are they suddenly going to stop being bitches in high school?”
His lips had twitched. “No. They will probably be like that their whole lives. Check them out at your twenty year reunion, and they’ll all have wrinkles around their mouths from pursing their lips in disapproval all of the time.”
I had laughed. Mr. W was my ally, as far as he could be.
“But in high school, the other fringe people will start to get more confident. You’ll make other friends. They’ll be less inclined to torment you if you have a couple of friends.”
“I have one good friend.”
He smiled. “Davey is a good friend to you. But you need to make other friends, too.”
“It isn’t fair. They start it. They always start it. Then I get busted.”
“You aren’t busted. You just got to see me. Aren’t you lucky?”
I smiled. “Yeah. Lucky.”
“I’ll call them in and give them detention if you think it will help.”
“I don’t think it will help.”
“Neither do I.”
“I don’t know what to do.” I sighed.
“Just do your best to avoid them. The school year is almost over.”
I shook my head grimly. “I’ll try. I always try.”
He was right, of course. High school was a little better than middle school. The snooty bitches were still snooty bitches, but there was a girls’ soccer team and softball team, and I joined them both. The girls who played those sports were generally tougher than the cheerleader types, and I made a couple of good friends. I guess people like that exist everywhere, but it is a lot harder to avoid them in school than it is in real life.
I shake myself back into the present and pick out clothes for my lunch date with Leah. Jeans, a muscle shirt, big black belt, boots. I lean close to the mirror and check out my head. It’s starting to look a little scraggly. Davey usually shaves my head, but I might have to do it myself this time. I run my hand over the fuzz and grin at myself in the mirror. Not looking bad for a forty year old. I throw on a baseball cap and head over to get my lunch date.
Leah is ready when I get to Davey’s apartment. I just tap on the horn and she comes out. I come around to open the car door for her and slide back into the driver’s side.
“Where to, Leah?”
“How about that little vegetarian cafe in Avon?”
“I was in the mood for a big burger.”
“You should try going meatless for a week. It will help detox you.”
“Leah.”
“They have great macaroni and cheese.”
She’s found my kryptonite. “You’re on.”
She’s studying me. I can see her staring out of the corner of my eye.
“Well?”
“I’m just wondering how you are.”
“Leah, I’m fine. I’m always fine.”
“You look a little sad.”
“I probably don’t look sad.”
She fusses with her necklaces. “It’s just that I don’t want you two to lose what you already have.”
“We won’t lose it.”
“Promise.”
“Leah, I promise. Look, I love Davey. Always have. That’s not going to change.”
“Good.”
We pull into the restaurant, and I see her into her seat. The waitress takes Leah’s drink order.
“And for you, sir?”
I smile at her and order water. She smiles back, flirting.
Leah shakes her head. “I don’t get it.”
I shrug. “It’s the baseball cap. Somehow draws the eyes away from my tits.”
Leah laughs. “Well, admittedly, you have small ones, but they’re pretty perky. It’s hard to miss them.”
“People see what they want to see. It doesn’t bother me.”
“Except in public bathrooms.”
“That can be irritating
.”
She leans forward, hands on the table. “So, Andy, I need your help.”
“Of course.”
“I need advice on becoming more butch.”
I laugh out loud, long and hard. “Leah. You can’t become butch. You either have butch qualities, or you do not. Let’s please note that you do not.”
“I am independent.”
“You are.”
“I can change my own tires.”
“Though you don’t. You call me.”
She nods.
“Leah, why do you want to be a butch? First of all, you’re not even a lesbian.”
“True, but I think I’m kind of bisexual. And Sheila is a femme.”
“Ha. Sheila may wear mini-skirts, but she is not a femme. She’s a wolf. She’s a wolf in come-fuck-me pumps.”
“She’s not. She is a wonderful woman. But I think she might want me to wear the strap-on sometimes.”
I pass my hand over my eyes and sigh. “Shouldn’t you be having this conversation with Sheila?”
Sheila is Leah’s kind of friend, kind-of-sometimes lover. It’s a little hard to explain. Frankly, it’s a little hard to understand. Sheila teaches a women’s sexual health class. Leah and Lynne go to it together on Friday nights. Leah had what I thought was a one-time fling with Sheila, and apparently, it wasn’t as great as Leah expected it to be. She had told me that as a feminist, it was her duty to have sex with a woman at least once in her life. I sigh again and shake my head.
Leah smiles. “I have had this conversation with her. She said we should do whatever I think feels right. But I’m not very good at servicing her orally, so I thought maybe doing her with a strap-on would be better.”
I look up at the ceiling and count to ten.
“You can’t just substitute one for the other. If you want to learn to please her with your tongue, you just need to practice. She’s a sex teacher, for Christ’s sake. She can guide you.”
“Oh, she is. I mean, it isn’t as if I can’t make her have an orgasm. I can.”
“Well, that’s a start.”
“It’s just that every time I go down on her, I feel like I’m flailing around, trying to find the right spot.”
“If you’re making her come, you obviously found it.”
“It doesn’t feel right.”
“Probably because you’re straight. I’d feel pretty weird sucking on a dick.”
The waitress has brought our food and walked away without trying to flirt. She obviously figured it out. I glance at the table next to us. There’s a male couple there and they look enthralled. I raise my eyebrow at them.
“Sorry,” the one guy says. “It’s like a scene from the L word.”
Leah and I both laugh.
“Anyway,” I turn back to Leah. “Just experiment. See what she likes and what she doesn’t.”
Leah nods and grins. “I still think it would be fun to be butch.”
“It isn’t about fun. It’s just who I am. If you’re willing to be called “sir” and have fights picked with you just for looking tough, go for it.”
She laughs. “I’d hate to have to get rid of all of my jewelry anyway.”
“What’s up with you and Sheila? I thought that was a one-time thing?”
“I’m kind of enjoying the novelty. She knows I’m straight. Or at least, I was straight. I guess I’m bisexual now.”
I deadpan. “I think I could write a country song about that.”
“We’ve agreed we’re going to keep it as a friendship with benefits kind of thing. I’m not about to give up my freedom, and of course, she teaches the sex classes, and sometimes she has to demonstrate.”
I start singing with a twang. “I used to be straight, but I met a hot date and she’s made me into a bi, bi, bi sexual.”
Leah ignores me. “You should come with us sometime.”
“I already know where all of my parts are. I don’t need to sit around with a mirror between my legs trying to discover myself.”
“You might learn something.”
“I doubt that.”
I pay the bill and we head back to the Trailblazer.
“Leah, how is it that you made it to the ripe old age of fifty-six before having sex with a woman?”
“It never really came up before. I mean, unless you count threesomes?”
My interest suddenly perks. “Threesomes?”
“You know, you’re hanging out with a friend and a guy, maybe smoking a little pot and you start talking about sex and somehow, the three of you decide to have a threesome.”
I shake my head. “Can’t say that’s ever happened to me.”
She grins. “Not even with two women?”
“It was offered, but I prefer one on one. I like to focus.”
“Speaking of which, what’s up with the girl from Saturday night.”
“She intelligent and sexy. I’m taking her out on Friday.”
“Don’t pick up anyone on the rebound.”
“I’m not on the rebound.”
I pull into her parking lot and she kisses me on the cheek. “Love you, kid.”
“I love you, too.”
****
At home, I take off my clothes and lay down on my bed, thinking a quick nap will do me good. Sex doesn’t have to be so complicated. Sex is a sport, just like racquetball. I play racquetball with Nate. We are good together. He never asks me if I play racquetball with other people or if he is as good as my last racquetball partner. I think Leah and Sheila have the right idea...be friends and have sex when they need it. That’s what I’ve done throughout most of my life, and it has always worked for me.
I picture Davey naked in my bed for a second and then flash to us curled on the couch, watching a movie or reading to each other. I find her so attractive, but somehow, whenever I think of her that way, my mind always wanders to charming domestic scenes of wedded bliss.
I wonder if I would be able to give up sex with other women if Davey wanted to marry me. I think I could. I also think it’s a moot point and ridiculous to think about. She is in love with Danny, and they are probably blissfully making love right now. She made her decision. I just need to get over it so we can go back to being best friends. I can’t let myself lose someone who has been part of my life for thirty-three years just because I am having sentimental longings. I think about Heather and her long strawberry-blond hair and her long legs and her deep laugh.
“Don’t pick up anyone on the rebound.” It’s one of my hard and fast rules. Am I on the rebound? It doesn’t matter. I’m not out looking for a wife. I just want to date someone and have a good time. Heather will be perfect for that. I’ve always said that love is a conscious choice. Now it’s time to prove it. I pick up my cell phone and dial Davey’s number.
“Andy.” She sounds relieved to hear from me.
“Hi Davey, baby.”
“What are you doing?”
“Lying naked in my bed.”
“Ah. No lucky woman around to get that perfect view?”
“Only if you count the cleaning woman.”
“I saw a movie like that once.”
I laugh. “Davey, how are you?
“I’m great. How are you?”
“Actually great. Just had lunch with Leah.”
“Ah, did she ask you about becoming butch?”
“And strap-ons.”
“Strap-ons,” she intones in a deep voice.
“They stay hard all night,” I answer.
“And no jizz,” we both finish together.
We’re laughing together. I realize that as long as I can be in her life, I’m going to be all right.
“Davey, look. I miss you a lot.”
She laughs. “It’s been two days since I’ve seen you.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do.”
“Let’s hang out.”
“All right. Dinner tomorrow?”
“I’m working at the bookstore until close.”
“Wednesday is “Dykes in Drag” at The Rose.”
“Sounds interesting,” I say flatly.
“Come on. Twenty percent of the proceeds are going to the center.”
“Where does the rest of the money go?”
“Various LGBT charities.”
“Do I have to wear a dress?”
She laughs. “No, but bring dollar bills so we can tip the dancers.”
“All right. I’ll do it. Why isn’t Danny going?”
“He’s not a fan of drag shows.”
“That makes sense.”
“Andy,” she warns.
“What? Let’s not fight. Wednesday. Drag show. Sounds awesome. Are you sure Danny will let you go with me?”
“Andy,” she sighs. “Danny isn’t like that. He isn’t going to try to end our friendship.”
“I hope not.”
“You need to give him more credit.”
“I do like him. But he is a guy after all.”
“But he’s not just any guy.”
“That’s something of an understatement.”
“Andy.”
“I’ll see you Wednesday.”
“Love you, Andy.”
“Love you too, baby girl.”
I hang up the phone and roll over onto my back. I lazily run my fingers over my nipples and debate masturbating and then decide against it. I know I’m getting old when I choose a nap over an orgasm. On the other hand, I have a dinner date with Davey on Wednesday and a dinner date with Heather on Friday. I entertain myself for a few minutes imagining having both of them at once. I guess I’m not as old as I thought.
