Hell Hath No Fury

devil_art_what.jpg

I am about to tell you one of my favorite stories from when I was dating Shmenn. I tell this story ALL THE TIME.

Shmenn’s middle name should have been Petty, I mean she makes Tom Petty look like Tom Not-So-Petty if you know what I mean. And honestly it was very hilarious, except when it was directed at me of course.

One time Shmenn, me, Courtney, and her girlfriend at the time decided to hit up a Spurs game, because we love basketball and the girlfriends loved any reason to scream at grown men while eating cotton candy.

After the game was over is when this story really begins… We were in the parking lot, in that usual shitshow that is everyone trying to leave an arena at one time and is a literal look into what Hell must be like.

*Theme music and opening credits play*

It comes to be our turn to merge into the exit line from the parking lot and the joker who knows it’s our turn to come over is refusing to make eye contact and edging his Mercedes SUV closer and closer to the car in front of him, blocking us out. This is when Shmenn and Courtney, the two pettiest bitches I know, without even speaking must have telepathically communicated what was going to come next. Courtney hopped out of the passenger seat and stood right in front of this fucker’s car, arms crossed, the smuggest (most smug? English nerds, weigh in!) grin on her face.

Now I know what you’re thinking — Texas is an open carry state, she could have gotten her ass shot. Additionally she was standing in front of a CAR for god’s sake, and this person could be a homicidal maniac, he didn’t even understand the basic human practice of merging traffic lanes so clearly he was a sociopath. But, you know, we were young and broke so getting hit by a car seemed like a reasonably okay path to put one’s life on.

This guy lost his mind, but I guess not enough to run Courtney over, so we edged our car in front of him as he laid on his horn, flipped us off, and screamed a plethora of obscenities our way. Now, keep in mind this was a middle-aged man, with his wife in the passenger seat, who if he had just let us merge would have been well on his way. Courtney made sure to let the guy know what a stand-up guy he was being by laughing and giving him a retaliatory middle finger (or two). This was when the wife started to get into the mix and rolled down her window to start yelling at Courtney, so she turned on her and yelled something along the lines of “What a winner you’ve got there! But it looks like you two are made for each other!” Before blowing a kiss and running back to the car. Now, this was all very ill-conceived from a planning standpoint because this guy really could have hurt any of us or rammed our car or worse, but we were working with the advantage of driving a WAY shittier car than he was. That’s the key to starting parking lot/road rage fights, always (and I mean ALWAYS) have the shittier vehicle. You want them to know that you wouldn’t give a motherfuck if your car became a casualty in this situation, your car isn’t worth caring about — your car sounds like a lawnmower. BRING IT.

Courtney made her way safely back onto our riding lawnmower, but Shmenn wasn’t done yet. Once we were in line in front of this douchehole, Shmenn put the car in park, rolled down the driver’s side window and waved in EVERY SINGLE CAR in the merge lane. Hundreds of cars, and we were just laughing our asses off. We had nowhere to be, and this guy needed to learn his lesson in basic human decency. He was laying on his horn and throwing even more middle fingers in the air, because apparently he didn’t understand that being a jackass was what had gotten him into this situation in the first place; you catch more flies with honey than vinegar after all.

People were a little confused by our actions, several rolled down their windows asking why we were letting everyone go in front of us.

Shmenn smiled as she waved them on, “This guy behind us is an asshole, so he’s learning a lesson.” At the end of all of the drama and after letting the entire rest of the parking lot out of the crowd before us, we left the scene with a hilarious story about good triumphing over evil (or petty triumphing over douche-baggery) and with at least two new enemies.

*Next Time on Nobody Scissors Shmenn finally comes out to her parents*

 

Advertisements

Congratulations: It’s a Boy!

babychris.jpg

Shmenn knew I was questioning my gender for some time but we avoided it like I’ve avoided calling my old University’s registrar’s office to handle the holds on my account keeping my diploma from me. No seriously, 1 – if you didn’t know, your University will withhold your diploma if you owe them for a $40 parking ticket, EVEN THOUGH you paid them $20k a year in tuition. Additionally calling the registrar’s office is hell on a good day, let alone 3 years after you’ve graduated — no i don’t remember my student ID number! Annnnnnywayyy,  she would often call me her boy, use masculine adjectives for me, and she called me our dogs’ dad, stuff like that… but we never touched on why she said those things, or why I liked it so much.

On the nights that she wasn’t sleeping over (which wasn’t very often) I would spend my nights watching transition video after transition video, crying and aching to be as true to myself as these people were. I was obsessed, I had finally found my truth. Also I have a very obsessive personality, I probably watched every single video available. The same way I will buy every single book by an author I’m currently reading, or the way I have watched every single movie starring Kristen Stewart even if it’s Jumper where she merely opens a door and speaks like 3 words. This is why I’ve not dabbled too deeply into drugs, I would be a goner.

I bought a binder, a packer, more masculine clothes. I brought up the use of a strap-on in the bedroom and Shmenn was on board, she had been with men in the past and thought it would be enjoyable for both of us. We picked out the prosthetic together, I insisted on something realistic (It even had balls! You’re welcome for that bit of information! — Courtney is cringing as she edits this.) and I remember the first time I wore it feeling absolutely horrifyingly self conscious but also, whole.

*Theme music and opening credits play*

The first time I spoke the words aloud that I wanted to transition I was black out drunk so I don’t actually remember it. A lot of my stories begin this way… like hey, do you remember that time we blah blah blah, me neither! It was relayed to me the next day that I was crying on the floor (I’m a winner) after Shmenn and I had attempted to have sex and I broke down over being touched a certain way and had closed myself in the bathroom. She came in to comfort me and I apparently told her something along the lines of, “I just want to be a boy, okay?”

Now I know that’s not the right wording, and it’s a very simplistic way to put my feelings, but as a distraught gender-confused masculine-of-center person (say that 5 times fast) that’s the best I could muster in my alcohol-induced state.

The next day Shmenn came to me and asked if I remembered our discussion the night before, I had no idea what she was talking about and she told me what had gone down. I instantly felt guilty. Shmenn had just come to terms with the idea of being a lesbian, and here I was, telling her that I wasn’t a woman.

At first she was so supportive, I couldn’t have asked for someone better. She helped me pick out a new name, switched to he/him pronouns, encouraged me to work out, told me how good I looked in my new clothes, in my new binder, etc. She even played into some very masc/femme roles in the bedroom that boosted my confidence in ways I had never felt in sexual situations.

Naming yourself as an adult is a weird thing to do. You’ve already known yourself as something else for literally your entire life, it’s easy to name a baby, they all look like babies. I mean when someone says “Aw she does look like a Shmemma” they’re lying. Your baby looks like a baby. Your baby also looks like an old man. Your baby looks like a Shmarence if anything.

The thing about choosing a name is you probably have heard every name ever named in your lifetime, so you have some bias attached to that name. I know that’s how it was for me. Like ugh no, I have a cousin named Shmark, there was that boy on that camping trip named Shmike who had a crush on me, and I can think of at least 5 famous Shmarles’ who murdered people.

I toyed around with the name Blaine for a long time, Shmenn really like it for some reason. I had really wanted to stick with a “C” name to keep similar to my birthname, but my brother has a “B” name so it seemed like maybe that would be cool too. The only problem is that to me Blaine was very gay boy, and I know, I know, certain names can’t be GAY, but maybe I had been watching too much glee (don’t scroll back to the beginning of my tumblr, it’s all glee fandom bullshit, I can’t even pretend to deny that, we all have skeletons in our closet).

Eventually I decided on Chris, and we were using that name for me on a daily basis. I wasn’t Chris to anyone but Shmenn but I was happy to have found a name that felt like my own. Like I said, naming yourself is a weird thing, but when you find a name you connect with after a lifetime of disconnect things are suddenly so clear. Everyone else around you probably never disliked their name, unless their name was Sheunice, that’s a terrible name. But you, you’re finally seeing what it’s like to go by what you want/need to go by, and that’s a nice feeling.

At the time I was also living with my “best friend” Shmordan (I know, I slept with a Shmordan, right? I can’t keep up), but we had been best friends for 7 years and roommates for 3 and I thought for sure she would support my desire to transition.

WRONG.

Shmordan told me that I would never be a boy and she would for the rest of time call me by my birthname. Luckily we stopped being friends a few short weeks after that because she’s the literal WORST and I’ve not heard from her since. Just a tip from me to you, even if that’s your best friend of a half your lifetime, you do not deserve that shit, cut them off like the 11th finger that they are. Fun fact, my little sister had 11 fingers — they just tied a string around that shit and it fell right off.

*Next time on Nobody Scissors, Shmenn’s lack of acceptance takes a nosedive*