Everything had all been leading to this, but you had a nearly infinite capacity to lie to yourself about what was actually happening, it seemed.
When you first met her, having been somehow matched in the university’s mixed sex dorms, you were initially petrified by her incredible beauty. But the way she acted, the way she seemed completely comfortable with you, put you strangely at ease. You settled in for life on campus with her by your side every step of the way: you an awkward spindly boy with no apparent reason to be around someone like her, her a breathtaking beauty who inexplicably had you as her constant companion everywhere she went. There was never any question, you were just inseparable.
Sure, she would date here and there. Guys would come and pick her up many nights, looking at you askance as they waited for her to get ready and you did your best not to interact with them. But she would come home and tell you every detail, confiding in you about the ups and downs of her romantic and sometimes sexual relationships. At first this made you uncomfortable, but she was so at ease that it put you at ease too. Soon she was telling you details you’d never imagined you’d hear from any roommate or friend, regardless of their gender.
But her friendship with you never suffered, not through any of her turbulent entanglements with men. She introduced you to romcoms, to reality tv, and you began to look forward to evenings in with her, giggling on the couch together, commenting on every little thing. It was so intimate, but never awkward, never sexual between you. Eventually that stopped seeming odd. It was just you and her.
You can’t even remember how it started. Often after bad dates she’d come home and open a bottle of wine for you to share after she unloaded all the details about how gross or boring or annoying the guy was. You just remember at one point you were drunk and trying on her clothes, terribly embarrassed but giddy about how happy she was to see you that way.
It eventually evolved into evenings together being you two watching your shows or movies with both of you dressed in her clothes. On your next birthday, she bought you the first female clothes that were really yours, and you accepted them gratefully when you saw how thrilled she was to see your reaction as you opened them. Soon your routine grew to encompass shopping outings together, looking for clothes for both of you. After a couple times you started to go into the dressing rooms together, and she acted like it was the most natural thing in the world for you to change in each other’s view.
You’d had crushes on girls before but never dated: way too shy for that. But despite your assumptions about your sexuality, changing together never had any tension, never any energy that seemed sexual. Just friends, like always. Just you and her. It would be weird for there to be anything else. She was like a sister, practically, wasn’t she?
Your evenings in evolved and you began watching videos about fashion, checking out new trends and new clothes. She got you into makeup. It was only normal, right? You were wearing the clothes, why not complete the look?
You were obsessed. This was something she seemed so enthusiastic about, it rubbed off on you. You would learn about makeup even when she wasn’t there, and you spent countless hours practicing, with and without her. Your hair was growing out and this time and you’d begun to wear your more androgynous pieces of clothing you’d bought with her interchangeably with your remaining male clothes, which you had zero thought of buying anymore.
People reacted at first, hesitatingly and unsure of what you were trying to convey about yourself. But then they adjusted. No one seemed to care. Since it wasn’t awkward for you, you got bolder. More obviously female clothes, more obvious makeup, more hair styled in obviously feminine ways. She encouraged you, cheered you on, offered you advice and encouragement. Went shopping with you and played with makeup night after night, teaching you.
There was no awkwardness now. She would openly change in front of you, taking off her underwear and not hurrying to put them back on, stopping to chat while she looked for a new piece. After all you’d been through, you quickly moved past it. Who cared? It was just her.
What she was taking off, then putting on, was just female clothing, just like you wore.
A girl, just like you? The thought seemed strange at first, but you wore the same clothes, shared the same interests. Why not? It wasn’t so weird. Nevertheless, it felt like a lot. You couldn’t help but express your doubts.
“I… it’s just… is this weird?” You didn’t know how to get the words out. But it was her: you could talk to her about anything. “I feel like it’s kind of weird to be just like changing in front of each other. I mean I know we… is this weird?” You started to tear up a little. There wasn’t anyone in the world who made you feel more comfortable than her. But it all hit you at once, how strange this seemed.
“What are you even talking about, bestie? It’s us. What would be weird?” She unclasped the bra she’d just put back on after modeling the teal dress with the ruffle and stood facing you, eyes locked on yours. “Are you telling me you want these? You want to grab them like Jason did Thursday? Tell me the truth: when I was telling you about that, did you think about how you wanted to do what he had done?”
“I… no. But this is weird, right?”
“Why? You want to fuck me?” The idea seemed ridiculous and you both burst out laughing simultaneously. “Come on. I know. You know i know. Say it.”
“You know. Say what we both understand. Tell me right now. Do you think about me like that? Sexually?”
“No, of course not. You’re my best friend!”
“It’s more than that. Do you think about girls that way? Any girls, not just me?”
“Honey, I love you but you’re starting to piss me off. It’s me. Don’t lie to me. Are you, though? A guy? When’s the last time you had a sexual thought about a girl?”
“Well…” you stood there, drawing a complete blank. Her breasts were still out but you didn’t even register them anymore. “I guess, maybe it’s been a while.”
“Sweetie. Bestie. It’s fine. We don’t need to talk about it anymore. But this isn’t weird. There’s no tension between us. We’re a couple of best friends trying on dresses together. Don’t make it about anything else, okay?”
“Okay.” You muffled a sob. “Okay.” Then a smile. “My turn!” You picked up a burgundy maxi dress with a floral pattern and pulled it over your shoulders. Eh, not for you. The awkwardness was gone. And on it all went.
You made a comment soon afterwards about not having room in your closet for your new purchases. She looked at you, went to your closet, and started laughing. “Are you serious right now? Throw out this old crap, obviously!” She started grabbing multiple hangers at once and throwing them on the floor… all your male clothes. You hardly ever wore them anymore but the symbolic significance of this step wasn’t lost on you.
“Oh, I don’t know,” you said hesitantly. “I still need those.”
She shot you a sharp look, a “you’re out of your mind” look, and put her hands on her hips. “You’re not going back. You’re NOT, and you’re in denial if you think anything else?”
“Back?!” You were angry now, panicked. “Where have I gone? I’m still me. I’m still the same as I’ve always been!”
Her eyes softened as she gently touched your arm. “I know, honey, you’re still you. But this,” she said, grabbing a sequined skirt, “is the you you’ve always been. You’re just learning to stop pretending now, that’s all.”
Her caring tone underscored the truth you knew, on some level, was in her words. You stood there for what felt like minutes, processing. You hadn’t worn male clothes in months, and had begun to wear some of your less daring skirts out in public. You’d been seeing yourself as a boy. But is that how the world had been seeing you?
“So am I… what does this mean?” You finally allowed yourself to wonder aloud, softly.
“Do you feel like a boy? Because I kinda don’t feel like you’re one,” she offered. “I don’t think we’d be having all the fun we have together if you were a boy.”
You thought about the late night chats, the makeup sessions, the shopping trips, and it dawned on you that you didn’t think you’d be doing those if you were a boy either.
“Let’s throw them out,” you said, quietly but hopefully. “After all, we’ve got a lot more shopping to do.” Both of you simultaneously broke into huge bright smiles. You hugged tightly and you whispered to her, “thank you.”
There was still room in your closet a little more than a week later, when she told you that you were going out tonight. It was a Saturday, so you spent the day lounging around the apartment casually, then helped each other pick outfits: a flowy green midi dress for her and some cute purple shorts with a white silk blouse and matching open toed white kitten heels for you.
Standing beside you at the mirror as you both finished up your makeup, she looked nervous.
You chuckled. She was always getting herself into little jams, and you loved to hear about them.
“We’re actually meeting up with a couple of guys tonight,” she said, eyes scrunched up nervously.
“Wait, we are? Why?” You were confused.
“It’s a date. A double date! Don’t be mad. They’re really cute.”
“But… men? I’ve never,” you stopped cold. “Why would you do this??”
“Listen, bestie. It’s time. You can’t stay celibate forever, and you’re never gonna be with a girl, right?”
“Well I mean, I guess not,” you said, acknowledging what you’d come to realize more and more over the preceding months. “But I’ve also never said I wanted this.”
“You remember the other day when we were watching The Holiday, after we gave ourselves pedicures? You were squealing at Jude Law right along with me. This guy tonight, your guy, he’s got a really similar look.”
“Just give it a try. You need to stop listening to me recap about men, and find a man of your own. You’re my best friend and you deserve to me happy.”
“Say it. Say it so you know it’s true.”
“I… I want a boyfriend.” You felt like you’d had an epiphany.
“Yes. I know you do, sweetie. I promise, I’ll be a good wingwoman. And after tonight, no more of this male past holding you back.”
“Stop, we’re gonna ruin our makeup.”
You both shrieked in excitement and she gave you all the details.
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