The Objectively Most Rational Decision

-- Day 39 --

I was not a morning person - today should have made that eminently obvious.

My mother, at my own request, had woken me up at the unthinkably early time of 7:30. Despite my groans and complaints, I nevertheless - at 8:00 in the morning! - embarked on a perilous quest to retrieve a pair of socks and - ahem - cute sneakers. I might have impulsively bought tall socks with a stripe at the top. Irrelevant.

Upon returning home, I enlisted my mother’s help with makeup, as I obviously had no idea how to do it myself. I needed it done to hide the sharper angles of my face, and because I was going all in for peak psychological damage. She tried her very best to pry the reason for this makeover out of me, but I remained steadfast in my silence. Several vigorous shakes of my head were required, too.

A quick change in my bedroom and a ‘good luck on your date’ - which I responded to with a swift and vicious glare - later, and I was lost on the streets of the city I’d lived all twenty years of my life in.

I really should’ve figured out where everything is by now.

By the time I had finally figured out where, exactly, he was talking about, I was ten minutes late. I never understood the appeal of sunny days, by the way. The sun was always in your eyes and there were always too many people around - I preferred the winter, here in the Pacific Northwest, where every day was rainy and nobody wanted to go outside.

Anyway, I was pretty sure I had found the place.

The windows of the café were tinted, and I wouldn’t have been able to see inside anyway because of the goddamn sunlight. I’d have to just go in. Alright then. Chin up, back straight, show no weakness.

I scanned the room until my eyes landed on his stupid hair. There’s the fucker. Walking up as quietly as I could I tapped him twice on the shoulder with my index finger.

He started speaking before he turned to face me, “Oh, hey dude, th-” and then he finally noticed, and his eyes grew almost comically, “Woah!”

This was the stupidest plan ever. Why did I do it? What the fuck, past-Eric?! I obviously didn’t pass - I tried my best but I still just looked like a fucking guy. At least I made sure to shave my legs last night. I didn’t know how I got the confidence to get this far, but I was absolutely pissed that it decided to leave me at this exact instant - I could feel my face grow red with anger.

I was definitely gonna get beaten up now. What exactly was my plan? Show up and assert femininity so hard he reveals whatever he was planning and fucks off and never bothers me again? So fucking stupid.

He chuckled - I winced - and said, “Oh, so that’s what it was!”

Huh? What what was? That was a stupid question - last conversation he said something was ‘hurting’ me in high school. Or maybe he was referring to my prescription, actually... wait, this didn’t matter. I wasn’t gonna get beaten up! Probably!

“Erm... yeah! Uh...” I fidgeted awkwardly with the hem of the skirt. This was a terrible idea. Honestly, ‘show no weakness’? This whole outfit was a weakness! If I wore this in high school, I’d be mocked, mercilessly! I held tight onto whatever scraps of faith I had left that I could suss out Sean’s sinister scheme with this gambit. The sacrifice in this case would be my dignity, I supposed.

“You can, uh, take a seat, you know?” he rubbed the back of his head again. Holy shit, could he stop doing that? It was so irritating. With the other hand, he gestured to the seat across from his.

I didn’t practice sitting down in a skirt. That was stupid. Isn’t there a way you’re supposed to do it? Not that I’d know anything about that. Whatever - just sit down, dumbass.

“Yes. I am a trans girl. What are you gonna do about it?” I attempted to smirk, but I was sure I failed miserably. This was not going well and I’d barely spoken. I still managed to keep my voice, if not feminine, at least soft. I hoped I could keep that up.

He tilted his head - just a little - and blinked, “Huh? What do you- oh, no! No no no, I promise I’m not a transphobe. I actually think it’s so awesome that you’re able to be your, like, true self now!” his face shifted between a variety of states as he spoke, before settling on a wide grin.

What was he playing at? Seriously, I still couldn’t figure it out. Was he trying to lull me into a false sense of security for whatever purpose he seemed to have in mind? Was he trying to psych me out? Well that wasn’t going to happen - I would out-psych his psych-out. Double-plus reverse psychology times two, bitch.

“So, uh, how have you been?” I expertly deflected the conversation away from myself, and onto him.

“Oh, you know, I took a year off before starting post-secondary. Now I’m working a part-time job to help pay for uni.”

“Yeah? What are you studying?” I asked. That’s how conversations worked. I knew that. It was probably something stupid like football, though.

He did the head thing again - cease, dude! - “Uh, I’m majoring in bio, and if I can get that degree then I’m going for veterinary school.”

For what?

Was he fucking kidding me? He had to have something seriously wrong because I refused - I refused - to believe he was this fucking pure. It had to be an act. Also: wasn’t he supposed to be a dumb jock? No way could he ever be a fucking veterinarian.

“Really?” I raised an eyebrow, and then I realized I forgot to do my voice and it came out in my typical nasally drawl. “Um, really?” I tried again.

“Yeah! My family’s dog got really sick and almost died a few years ago, and I thought it was so amazing the way they got him all healthy and happy again. I want to do stuff like that, y’know?”

I nodded, not having anything to add. Fuck, conversations were hard. How was I supposed to keep them from dissolving?

“Uh, do you want a coffee?” he asked.

“No, I don’t drink coffee,” I replied.

And so it trailed off once again. What was I doing again? I feel like I forgot everything I was trying to accomplish here. Figure out what Sean fucking Murphy’s deal was, I guess? Okay, uh, do the RPG dialogue tree thing?

“So, um, are you still dating Zoey Wilson?”

He blinked, “Huh? What are you talking about?”

Uh, weren’t they? “Didn’t you date her in high school? I saw you-” I mumbled just loud enough for him to hear. Was I misremembering it?

“No?” he scratched his head, “Wait, I think I know- that day you, uh, y’know. She just kissed me on the cheek for helping her study for bio, though? Uh, sorry if you got confused by that, or anything?”

Well shit. That was a stupid line of questioning, then. I must’ve picked the worst dialogue option.

“Oh. Uh...” I tried thinking really hard for a way to continue the conversation but I kept drawing blanks.

“Actually, for most of high school I was dating Eddie Wheaton.” he casually continued, as if that wasn’t the most absurd thing I had heard in my fucking life.

Eddie? Wasn’t he that asshole who had that smug grin all the time? What? How? Huh?

Sean fucking Murphy was gay?!

“You- you were- you and-” I tried to formulate a response, but my thoughts were too jumbled from that revelation.

“Ah, yeah, we kept it secret because his parents really sucked and he didn’t want it getting out. He’s really cool, though, we’re still cool - just broke up ‘cause of different plans.” he replied.

“You’re gay?!” I said, then realized I said it too loud. Shit. Eric, you idiot.

He did the thing again - stop it! - and said, “Actually, I’m bi.”

I felt an odd sense of relief at that. Probably because such an attractive - objectively speaking - male specimen would be wasted on other males. With him being bisexual, he probably had sex just about every day. I imagined that for a moment, before aborting the thought. N- uh, no. Just no.

“Oh, I-”

My reply was cut off by the arrival of a stranger planting her wrists on the edge of the table, “Hey Sean, finally got a girlfriend?”

I could feel my face grow hot at the remark - partially in anger at the assumption, and partially in embarrassment at being so readily gendered as a girl. I knew I should get over that latter feeling, considering what I was doing. Still, I had a long history of desperately defending what little masculinity I had; it was hard to just let go of it all.

“No, we’re just catching up, actually. We knew each other in high school,” he replied. That was a stretch - I certainly knew him a lot better than he knew me, what with his overwhelming presence. “Uh, yeah, Julia,” he gestured towards the interloper, and then towards me, “Er- wait, I, uh, this is embarrassing - I never asked your name...?”

Then he did the thing again. I swore if he did it one more time...

“Um, Eris?” I replied, almost too quiet to hear. The intrusion into the conversation was making me more anxious - I already didn’t know what I was doing, and now I had lost even more control. This was why I hated talking to people in real life - it’s all so unexpected and confusing. Ugh.

“Oh, that’s cute,” interjected so-called ‘Julia’, despite me not asking for her opinion.

Sean nodded, “Okay, yeah. Eris, meet Julia. Julia, aren’t you supposed to be working?”

“Meh, Adam’s got it covered,” she waved over at the barista behind the counter who was presumably Adam. He pointedly ignored her. “Besides, this is more interesting. And definitely not a date,” she winked. I could tell she was being sarcastic, but it wasn’t.

She finally decided to leave, and said, “Good luck. Don’t scare her too much,” to Sean, slapping him on the shoulder as she passed. I glared daggers at her back. Honestly, the nerve to intrude into a private conversation. Fucking rude.

He chuckled, “Uh, yeah. She can be a bit much, sometimes. Sorry if you were uncomfortable.”

“No, I’m fine,” I replied, trying to gain some confidence, despite having absolutely none left. I just wanted this to end, really.

“So, how have you been doing? When’d you start your transition, and stuff?” he asked.

Great, now the focus was on me. “Um. Just a month or two ago, actually. I was, uh, dealing with the feelings for a lot longer, though.” I lied.

“Well, I’m really happy for you. A couple of my friends are trans, y’know, and I’ve heard how difficult dysphoria can be to deal with. Julia is dating one of them, actually.”

Really? She wasn’t particularly pretty, but she could do better than a tranny. Especially a trans dude. They honestly made no sense - if they knew how shitty men had it, no way would they wanna be one. Idiots.

“Yeah?” I blandly replied, trying to get more information.

“Yup! I had a bit of a crush on Julia, actually, when I first started going here. I guess that’s part of why it’s become my regular. Anyway, we talked pretty often and then I found out she’s lesbian and I was like, darn, because she’s really pretty, but then she started talking about her girlfriend and I’ve hung out with them and they’re so cute together, and we’re all pretty close friends now.”

“I’m sorry, what?” he spoke way too fast - I only caught a few words of what he just said. “She’s a lesbian?” I continued - I didn’t figure that out, specifically, but I could tell there was something about her that made me uncomfortable. Her lesbianism must have been it.

“Oh, yeah? You shouldn’t just assume everyone’s straight, you know.”

“Um, yeah, sorry. I’m just- well, I’m straight.” I halfheartedly apologized. Then I realized that I said I was straight - which I was - but I said it while he was under the impression that I was a girl. Which would mean I liked men. Which I didn’t. God, I was so stupid.

He began a reply, but he fucking did it again. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I slammed my hands on the table and stood up, “Do. You. Have. Lice?!”

***

Well, that was a disaster.

I said so many fucking idiotic things, forgot what I was even doing halfway through, and I was pretty sure I had given him the impression that I was interested in him - I absolutely wasn’t!

Sitting on my desk was a scrap of paper with his phone number on it. When he finally had to leave, he had asked for my phone number so we could quote unquote “hang out sometime”. I responded that I did not, in fact, own a smartphone. He was incredulous that I didn’t have one, but why would I? I had no obligations, no friends, no reason to take or send a phone call. I could do anything else I needed on my computer.

Then he had the gall to give me his own number, and asked me to send a text whenever I got a phone. I had, at that point, figured out what his flaw was: he had a fetish for trans girls. It was the only explanation that made sense, considering how accepting he was of me being ‘trans’. He probably jerked off to the idea of dominating pathetic, failed males. Not like me, I usually imagined being the one who-

Anyway, I knew that people like him were known as chasers - when I realized his weakness, an idea formed in my head to finally achieve my vengeance. I would lead him on for as long as possible, only to break his heart and cause his total emotional destruction. It was positively diabolical. If I was going to try this, the first thing I needed was a phone. Then, the game begins.

There was no possible way that this could go wrong.