Chapter 1: One of the Girls

I don't know if most 17 year olds need to ask their parents to leave the house. I am not even sure I actually need to do it, but here I am, trying to gather the courage to scale the stairs and ask my mom. I could probably just let her know that I'm leaving to hang out with my friends. Y'know she'd probably just ask where I am headed and who I am hanging out with, yet I am still too scared to assert myself like that.

Scared of what? I don't even know. Her saying no? Not a likely possibility for a Saturday afternoon. Maybe she'll make fun of me for something. I'm always scared of being made fun of. Lord knows there is plenty about me that could make a whole dinner table laugh if just mentioned. 

Is it even worth it? She's always making comments about me. It all makes me hide in my room more and more. I already don't like being looked at, why do I have to deal with snarky comments about how I've finally shown my face after hibernation and how much of a nerd I am. I get it. I already make these comments about myself, I don't need to hear it from my mother. 

Regardless, I'll have to just suck it up if I am ever going to make it out the door.

Counting the steps as I ascend to help calm my nerves, I see my mother in the kitchen fixing herself a sandwich. She's turned away from me. Perfect. I can approach before she has any time to say anything snarky, let alone see me. Win-Win.

Slowly approaching, I ask, "Hey Mom, can I hang out with Julia and Sam today?" God, I sound so pathetic I can practically hear her inner monologue telling me to man up.

Before she answers she gives me a disapproving sigh, "Don't you have any guy friends to hang out with?" She lets her hands drop from her recipe, giving me a stirn look. Just as I had feared. Except somehow it's worse because now I need to defend myself for being a guy who has female friends.

"No..." I drag on, looking down, "You know I don't have a lot of friends in the first place. What is wrong with being friends with girls?"

"Because you are a guy. Not a girl. They're either going to think you want to date them, or they'll want to date you, and my son is far too nervous to have a girlfriend," she finishes with a smirk, giving me a playful push as she laughs to herself.

At least she is having fun, because that hurt. I don't even know why it hurt, suddenly I just feel so much worse. Maybe it's 'cause I was right. No matter what I do I'll just be made fun of. Even by my own mother in my own house. I can't even escape it here. What's the point?

Fighting the urge to just give up and go back to my room, I quickly respond and deflect to my original question, "Mom I don't want to date them. Can I please just go hang out with them for the night? I'll be home tomorrow morning. It's a Saturday so I don't have school tomorrow."

"I guess," she says, giving up her little stand-up routine and returning to her sandwich making, "But make sure to keep the doors open over there. I don't want any grandchildren yet," she laughs again. Fuck. I spoke too soon. Still with the mockery. I just wanna lock myself away and hide.

Trying to escape even more embarrassment, I give her a little wave and a thank you as I rush to the door as fast as I can. It's always like this. It's always always always like this. Her jokes don't even make sense! Why is she worried about grandchildren if she doesn't even think I can get a girlfriend? I just feel so bad about myself. Just a shy pathetic son whose mother thinks the best he can do is a bastard child. That's all I'll ever be to her anyway. Even if she means it in good fun, can she not see how bad that makes me feel? It's just not fair. It's just not fair.

At least I can revel in the safety of my friends for a little while. They always have a way of making me feel more included. I really only met them recently. Well, comparatively so. I've known them for almost a year now, but Julia and Sam have been best friends forever. I'm really lucky they've let me in to form this little trio. They started inviting me to their girls' nights a couple months ago, which is where I am headed now, not that I could ever say that to my mom. She'd have enough material to call me a girl for weeks. I couldn't handle that. I don't know why they started inviting me, but it's really nice. We hang out at school often, but I guess they liked me enough that they wanted me to tag along with their usual hangout sessions.

When Julia first pitched the idea of inviting me to a girls night, it was back when we were doing our movie analysis in English class. She had mentioned that they watch movies or YouTube videos or go to the mall every so often. I was a bit of a talker during movies, and they were both massive talkers as well, so the experience in class was pretty fun. We were off in the corner whispering to ourselves about whatever stupid comment came to mind about the movie. Y'know, how girls tend to do during those movie classes where everyone is having a bit of a lazy day.

Not that I am a girl or anything. 

I don't know how much of a girls night it was with me there, but they still called it that so I didn't want to think about it. If I brought it up I felt that this unspoken bond between the three of us would somehow be weakened. Like a barrier propping up to seperate us because I am a guy and they were both girls. If I didn't speak that barrier into existence, we could be closer friends. No need to remind anyone that I was a guy and they were girls. Who needs these expectations of romance when a strong friendship is what everyone wants anyway? I could simply be one of the girls for a night every so often. Keeps me closer to my friends anyway, fragile masculinity be damned. 

Getting closer to Sam's house, I give the group chat a text that I am almost there, and make a turn towards the last street. As I round the corner, I try to put on a half-hearted smile. Even though I am feeling bad, I really don't want to talk about it. Talking about it means speaking that barrier into existence, and I'd really rather not. I just want to hang out with my friends without feeling any more guilty than I already do because of my gender. Maybe they'd be better off inviting another girl over instead of me. Then there doesn't have to be anything left unsaid for them. Maybe my mom would go easier on me too. It sucks being an only son. So many expectations, and somehow I am failing them by the simple act of having friends. This sucks.

As I approach, I can see Julia already waiting on the steps with her multiple layers. Even though it's the middle of summer, this girl always finds a way to be cold, an ironic affliction given her warm and bubbly nature, compared to Sam's more dry and tomboyish attitude.

"Hey Brandon!" She shouts at me while jumping and waving, "Sam is on her way home, she is just picking up some snacks from the store. I, as usual, beat her to her own house," she brags, putting her fists on her hips, striking a pose you'd find on a superhero poster.

"Hey Jules. Still freezing your ass off in 20 degree weather I see," I giggle. We like to poke fun at each other within the trio. I don't know why, but unlike with my mom, it doesn't bother me as much when Julia or Sam does it. 

"It's a constant struggle to be the best," she says, looking down with a sigh before breaking into a fit of giggles with me. She makes me feel so welcome. I never had moments like this at home or at school before I met them. Despite her jokes making me feel better, I am still visibly upset. So much so that Julia has already taken note, "You seem down, more than usual."

More than usual? I guess that makes sense. I've always kinda felt uncomfortable in my own skin, but is it really that bad that it's that noticeable? "What's got you all bothered?" She asks with a sympathetic smile. 

"Nothing really. My mom was making fun of me when I asked her if I could hang out with you guys, and it put me in a bit of a funk walking here. I don't know why it made me feel so bad."

"Jeez," she scoffs, "Your mom is so mean. What was she even making fun of you for?"

No. No, please don't make me explain it.

I have to speak that barrier into existence now. The very thing I want to avoid now has me trapped. I can't even give a non answer. Jules is so persistent I wouldn't even bother trying. Nervously, I look to the ground and stammer out, "Uh... She was uh... she was making fun of me for, uh, y'know, not having other, y'know, guy friends," I try to word it as to keep the facade up and the barrier down. I know I'm not really one of the girls, even if I've always wanted to be one of those guys who can slot himself into a group of girls and nobody would mind. Women already go through a lot, they don't need another douchebag to ruin their style with the expectations of heterosexual relationships. Plus, women are already so cool on their own, who wouldn't wanna hang out with them and be like them? I don't see why there is anything wrong with a guy like me having a couple girls as his best (and only) friends. 

Julia scoffs, "Ah your mom and her old fashioned ways. Does she actually think men and women can't be friends? What is she, a human dinosaur?" We both laugh. That's a good one. Maybe I'll use it on her next time if I have the confidence, "Plus you're basically one of the girls already. I don't see why she thinks it's such a big deal," she finishes. 

Instantly, I start to feel a lot better. She really thinks I'm one of the girls? Really? That's like, exactly what I wanted. 

"You really think I'm like one of the girls?" I weakly ask. I don't know why this makes me so nervous. It's innocuous. Who cares if you're like one of the girls or not? Why should that even matter? Apparently it matters enough to me to worry about it.

"Yeah dude, of course," She giggles, "You're like barely a man anyways. What 'real man' enjoys all those chick flicks you keep wanting us to watch?"

"Hey! There is nothing about chick flicks that disqualifies me from being a man. They are plenty masculine!" I defend. I don't even like being masculine, but I feel this urge to defend myself like I'm supposed to be. 

"Oh yes, loves stories and lesbians, how masculine," Jules mocks in a fake British accent, causing us both to start cackling uncontrollably. 

"Oi! What's got you two all up in arms, eh?" Sam yells from the driver's seat as she pulls up her driveway. We were too busy losing it over Julia's posh bit to notice Sam had arrived. We stroll down to the car to help with the bags she got. Now that Sam's here I feel noticeably better. Hopefully she doesn't comment about anything and we can just have a relaxing girls night from here on out.

Well, a girls night plus me, but I didn't really want to think about that right now.

As we get inside and take our shoes off, Julia fills Sam in on the state of things,

"So, Brandy here is feeling a bit down 'cause his mom won't shut up. Ya got any ideas on how to cheer him up?" She draws out.

Since this is the exact conversation I want to avoid, I interject, "Hey, no. Stop that. No cheering me up. I'd rather not think about it. Any active effort will just make me feel worse," spitting out any combination of words I could think of to try and get them off my ass. It probably won't help. 

"Those are definitely the words of someone who does not need cheering up," Sam dryly says, a hint of humour and empathy in detectible in her voice. I don't really know how to feel about that. I don't want her to feel like she has to take pity on me. I know she cares about me. I don't know. Having people care about me has always made me feel weird. Maybe it's because I don't deserve to be cared about. Lord knows I could never really care about myself. Not in the way others seemed to. Maybe it's the masculine trappings of being an emotionless husk that makes it feel wrong. Men aren't supposed to deal with these sappy feelings. They just go about their days, already content with everything. It didn't matter that it didn't feel true upon any further inspection, any excuse to just ignore how it feels is enough.

"No, seriously," I plead, "Let's just continue with our, uh, girls night, and we don't need to worry about what my mom said. It really isn't important."

God, I can barely even say girls night without feeling weird. Why does that make me feel weird? I need not examine that, lest more insecurities come bubbling to the surface. My mom sure has her latches deep into my psyche.

"Yes, let's. I wonder what your mom thinks about our girls night," Julia teases. Usually when she does it, it's okay. It's charming or endearing. Why can't I just laugh it off? Why does this bother me so much?

"Hey... uh, can you, not? Please. I just want to have a fun night..." I stammer out, looking at the ground. There are tears forming in my eyes. It's so stupid. It's one comment. It's something as innocuous and meaningless as gender, and yet the rules forced upon me are crushing. 

"Sorry..." Julia reaches a hand out to try and comfort me, but I move away. I don't like being touched. I just don't want to be noticed right now. I never even should have come. I wish my anxiety swallowed me whole before I even had to face my mom.

"Hey man, it's okay," Sam says to me, "It's not a big deal. Let's take these snacks," she raises her bags and swishes them around, letting the plastic bags rustle for effect, "and go watch some dumb movie okay. We can riff our way to a happier Brandon, how does that sound?"

Sniffling, I look up at her and give her a smile. It takes effort but it's genuine, "Yeah, that sounds fun. Let's."

And so we did. 

It took a little for me to stop sitting in my own head and wallowing in my insecurities, but eventually, about 20 minutes into Booksmart, I started to feel better. I don't know what it was. The woke references. The nerdiness that oozes from every scene. Honestly, it was probably Amy's crush on Ryan, the cool skater girl. It was all just something that just felt close to me. Watching nerds be nerds, even if they were assholes sometimes, just felt nice. 

And, like, her little crush is just too cute. I couldn't get enough of it. I mean, how amazing must it be to get to crush on a girl who is just cooler than you in every single way. It doesn't matter how the rest of the movie played out. It doesn't matter that I've never really had a crush like that of my own. I got to indulge in this cute little story and escape how I felt about myself.

I always felt like I was adding something, I don't know, wrong to the image. If I were to ever have a crush, it wouldn't feel the same. A guy just doesn't have cute crushes like a girl does. I could just never relate to how guys talk about being interested in girls. It felt dirty. It wasn't as if it was wrong. Of course it wasn't, but wrong for me, maybe. If I had ever tried to place myself in the same shoes as my male peers, it just felt off. Like I was being degrading or imposing in some nebulous way. I couldn't conceive of a way that I could express my attraction without doing something wrong or sexist or stupid or whatever. It just makes me feel bad.

I guess that's why I like these movies. They give me a glimpse into something that I can feel more comfortable relating to, without all that dead weight. There is just something about a girl having a crush on another girl that, to me, seems so wonderful. Two girls interested in one another. No male womanizer or masculine posturing to ruin it. I wish I could have that. Even if it's just a similar dynamic between me and a girl I like, it doesn't matter that I am a guy. 

Except, it does matter, because I am not allowed to relate to these characters and these storylines. Lesbians are always talking about how they hate it when straight guys show interest in them, even when they know they have no shot. Am I no better than some dude hitting on a lesbian in a bar? God, I hope not. The thought makes me shudder. I am always so worried about doing something creepy or perverted whenever I am trying to express how I feel. I can't escape it. 

It's just, the way they get to have their own relationships, free of any rough edges to ruin it. I mean, who would even want to date a guy? What good parts about being a guy are there? I'm sure there are for some people. All these holy values we are told are masculine. I guess those are fine. Loyalty and Respect and Honour and all that. It feels so stuffy and constricting. We have to hold up all of these values, and try and be attractive enough for someone to date you? It's all so much work. When do you get to be an actual person? All of this, and it's just a guy at the end of the day? Ugh. I don't understand. It doesn't make sense. 

What other option do I have though? I'm stuck with all these rules and expectations and rough edges. How can I even bear for a woman to love me when I can never meet any of these bars set so high? Do guys ever get to be soft and cute? I mean, I guess there are some examples I can think of. I don't know, it doesn't feel the same. Those guys aren't lesbians. They're just guys. Different types of guys, but still guys. It's not the same. 

Why does it matter if it's the same? Isn't that what I want? To be soft and cute? To have crushes that don't feel like an intrusion? It's so confusing. All this trouble over a movie. I'm not even thinking about the movie, just the mere prescience of a gay woman sends me spiralling. It's not fair. It's not fair. I don't understand. It's just not fair.

It doesn't make any sense. None of this makes sense. I am not making sense. I am spiraling and my mind is racing and there is nothing to stop me. The movie keeps playing. The storylines are coming to a close. I barely register how Amy's story ends. Why am I this upset? Maybe it's because I've never had a true crush before. I'm just lonely. I mean, it makes sense. I am very lonely. My mom says so herself all the time. So lonely that instead of just being a man like I am supposed to be, I entertain these fantasies of a world where I can be free of that burden. Living vicariously through fictional characters meant for actual queer people to relate to and enjoy. It's not my place. It's not for me. I'm so lonely that I have to steal something that isn't mine just to find a place of refuge.

It's all too much. I need a place of refuge. I can finally feel the tears on my face that have formed long ago. The movie ends. Jules and Sam share their thoughts. I haven't said anything yet. I don't want to say anything. I can't say anything. This is all too much. Too much for me. Too much for them. I can't bear my thoughts. I can't bear my voice. It's too much. 

I slip away to the bathroom. Jules or Sam tries to get my attention but I can't even tell which one of them is speaking. The downward spiral has claimed so much their distinct voices now barely register as two different people. I can't barely understand what exactly they're saying, but I can infer and assume enough. It doesn't matter.

I know they care but what fix could they possibly have. I am a guy and I can't change that. There's nothing either of them can do to get rid of this part of me. The part that prevents me from being a real person, or enjoying the company of others, or the ability to love without unbridled self hate. It's just not fair. How can it be fair? Not like I have a choice or anything. I was stuck with this since birth and I will be stuck with this my whole life. There are just no other options for me. I have to carry this burden.

Knock, Knock

"Hey," That's Julia, "I know you aren't doing well, and that you're probably spiraling and telling yourself you don't want to be a burden, but we care about you."

"Yeah," That's Sam, "We care about you a lot Brandon. We do and we want to help. Do you want to come outside?"

No.

"I guess..." Dammit. Immediately I crumble and let them in. I understand they care, but this only serves to make me feel worse. Even if they mean well, what can they do? Nothing. Nothing at all.

"That's it," Julia consoles as I slowly creak the door open. Without making eye contact with either of them, I make my way back to the couch. It's safer there, away from the eyes of others. 

"I'm sorry..." I barely mustered through the tears, "I don't mean to bother you like this."

"Dude, you are absolutely not bothering us. We want to be here. We want to help," Sam reassures. Little does she know.

"Yeah," Julia adds, "We are totally here for you. Do you want to tell us what is bothering you?"

No. Absolutely not.

"Um... It's... uh- it's really, ah, no. I don't really... uh, want to. It's kinda... yeah," I sniffle out. The tears have slowed down, but I am barely making any sense. 

"It's kinda what?" Julia calmly asks, "Complicated?"

I nod. That's it, right? It's just so complicated. How could I even begin to explain this? A problem without a solution. Feelings I have that are weird. I don't even know if other people feel like this. How could I even go around and ask people about this? They would just see me as weird. Just some guy with some weird fantasy. Probably make fun of me for having only girl friends, just like my mom. Seeing me as a creep. 

"Well, we have all night. You don't have to say anything you aren't comfortable with, but you can tell us anything. You know that," Sam reassures. They both are looking at me with such compassion. This is what true friendship looks like, but I still feel so isolated. Can I really tell them? Will that friendship still last after they know? 

You are reading story One of The Girls at novel35.com

What can I even say?

"I... I don't even know what to say... The words, I don't know if I have them," The tears have stopped for a bit. Makes it easier to get words out, ironically. I gain the ability to speak right when I lose the ability to find words. 

"That's okay. Why don't we start with what upset you. I know you weren't happy once you got here, but it seemed like the movie upset you. Was there anything about the movie that made you sad?" Asked Sam.

Well, that was the question, right? That's what I'm afraid of admitting. How can I say that I, as a guy, gets envious of lesbians to the point it inspires a mental breakdown, and not have people look at me weird, or have them leave me. They're going to see the worst part of me. The part that always gets made fun of. I just shake my head. I don't want to say it. I don't want to say it. I really really don't want to say it.

"Hey," That's Julia, she says as she moves in closer, placing her hand on my shoulder. It feels nice, "It's okay. We aren't going anywhere. We're right here Brandon," I cringe. That's another thing. What a dumb name. Brandon. What does it even mean? It's so rigid and hard. No room for expression. It's just set in stone, right as is. I wonder if they noticed.

For a moment I don't say anything. Just nodding and silent sobbing. This is getting so unbearable. I can't keep holding it in like this. All these little things bothering me. These feelings that emanate through every day. Even when it's barely present and I'm happy, I'm still reminded of the reality that I live. How long will I go before I accidentally let it out? Maybe I can tell them. They might hate me, see the parts of me that I should hide away, but I need a change. The future could be worse if they know, but I need something, anything but this. 

I don't want to say it. 

I really don't want to say it.

I think I have to.

"I- uh... I guess... I think I'm ready to tell you guys," I start, "It uh... it all kinda started with my mom this morning. She's always making weird comments, and it's always making me uncomfortable. I was, uh, scared to ask her if I could come over tonight because of it. Like, I knew what was coming if I did, but I had to ask her anyway. Well, I mean, I didn't have to ask her, but I did, and I was right because she made another one of those comments. She, uh, she said something about me only having girl friends and how she did not approve, and was making fun of how I'm so anxious and everything. Like why do you even have to make fun of your child, can't you see how much this hurts? Anyways, she's always talking about how she doesn't approve that you guys are my friends. Cause you're not, well, guys. I don't understand. Why can't I just have the friends I have and it not be an issue? I'm pretty sure she wants me to be this, uh, big man or something. Into sports and has a group of guys that I'm always with, but that's just never been me. I like sports, I guess, at least I like watching them, but I guess she wants me to be this posturing guy or something I don't know. So that's why I was upset before I came here."

I stop for a moment to see if they have anything to say. Nothing other than sympathetic looks and nodding. I guess I'll continue. 

"And then there was the movie. There wasn't anything wrong with the movie. I liked it, actually, but that was, um, kinda the problem," Oh god, am I really gonna say it. "There was this, plotline I guess that I enjoyed. I thought it was cute," I'm gonna say it, fingers crossed, "It was Amy and Ryan's whole story. I thought Amy's crush was really cute, and I guess I just, uh, started wondering what it would be like to have a crush like that. I've never really liked anyone before, it always felt so, rigid to imagine myself in a relationship with another girl. I'd be adding something wrong to that image I don't know. Maybe it's cause I just don't like myself? And the movies that show other guys trying to get with girls just make me feel dirty, I guess. There's something about Amy's crush that just felt, much more freeing I don't know. Same goes, I guess with other lesbian movies and stories. They just feel more honest and wholesome to me. I know I shouldn't enjoy them like that, like I'm just some guy intruding where I don't belong, but that hurts you know. These stories are something I can finally relate to, and it's just something I am not allowed to! It sucks!" The tears start flowing again. It really does suck. It just sucks so much to have something you want to finally call yours but, can't, for stupid bullshit reasons.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. Come here," Julia's voice calms me as she leans over for a hug. Sam does the same, if a little more reserved. Julia is definitely the hugger of the two. I accept the hug. It helps me feel better, if only slightly. I try to push away the feelings that this is something I shouldn't enjoy. Something I don't deserve. What man deserves to be hugged? Men don't deserve to be hugged. We need to be strong. Unsuccessful. Feelings of shame and discomfort have still arrived. I cry a little louder now. Full on sobs. Why does it have to be we? Why do I need to participate in this posturing culture of emotionless bravado? It hurts so much.

"Shhhh, shhhh. You're okay. Sam and I are here. Nothing bad can happen to you. Nobody can judge you," Her words are so calming. It helps to have friends who care, even if my natural reaction is to doubt her and try to isolate. She shouldn't be hugging me. I'm disgusting. Nobody as disgusting as me deserves hugs. I want to believe her so badly, but I can't. Backing away from the hug, I cry out.

"You're... You're wrong! Of course you guys are judging me! Who wouldn't!" How could they not? I'm not even sure what I believe. My brain is rapidly spinning back and forth from positions of 'They love you, you have to confide in them. They won't leave you,' and 'Of course they'd leave you. Who wouldn't leave your terrible excuse for a man? Who could possibly love someone like you.' It's exhausting. I don't know what to believe. I don't know what thoughts are real. I don't know if the words I say are even accurate to what I believe.

"We do love you. Why would we leave? We have literally no reason to do so" Sam reassures. 

"I don't know..." shrinking away as I sob out, "I just, have these emanating feelings of shame and disgust towards myself. Why wouldn't other people share those same feelings? I am stuck like this, and nothing can change it. Who wouldn't be disgusted?"

"Well first, we wouldn't. Nothing about you disgusts us? Why would it? You're our best friend." Julia says.

"Yeah, there is no reason at all why we wouldn't care about you. We really like hanging out with you. If we didn't we wouldn't be watching dumb gay movies with you all the time," Sam chuckles. 

"Exactly, but what do you mean stuck like this? Stuck like what?" Julia asks.

That's the kicker. 

I have to come clean. There is no other option now. No more putting it off. I need to get this out of me, or I might explode.

"A man. I have to be a man." I say, just so defeated. Tears start to slow. Admitting it was so draining I barely have anything left in me. I know what's to come, all that's left is to brace for it.

"A man? You feel disgusting because you have to be a man?" Julia asks for clarification.

"Yeah!" Sobs return. "I have no choice but to be Brandon, this disgusting man who can't even abide by all the stupid rules I'm meant to follow. I'm trapped in this prison of social expectations! There is no escape from me, from my body, from who people see me as. There just isn't. I have to be this grotesque monster."

"Well, no you don't" Sam says, so matter-of-factly.

What.

No, that's not right. 

What she said smacks me right in the face. That's just. It's wrong. It has to be. I don't. I don't understand. 

I don't even make a sound. I just stare right at her. I don't understand.

"Yeah!" Julia exclaims, weirdly excited, "You don't have to be a man if you don't want to Br-- uh," She stops before she can say my name. Weirdly enough, that makes me happy that she didn't say it. Happy? Why would her not saying my name make me happy? I know I don't like it, but it's my name, I don't have a choice.

"I don't understand." I truly can't comprehend what they are saying, "You must be wrong. I'm a guy, that's just how it is."

"No, that isn't how it is. You don't have to be a guy." Sam says again, so matter-of-factly it feels like she is slapping me.

"But... I just... I can't... I don't understand... It doesn't, ahh, It doesn't make any sense." I can barely get any sensible words out. Just fragments of phrases. 

"Is that new to you?" Julia asks.

It is new. It's so new I can't even comprehend it. I don't understand.

"But," I barely squeak out, "What does that even mean? If I don't have to be a guy, who would I be?" Confusion. Just pure confusion. They must be lying to me.

"A girl, duh," Sam states.

A girl.

I can be a girl?

That... That can't be right. There's no way I can be a girl. Even if I don't have to be a guy, there's no way I can be a girl. Can you imagine me, but as a girl? It's absurd. It's so absurd, I can't stop thinking about it. 

"You can... I can... I can be a girl?" I ask, as if the words are forming under me, unstable as I try to find my feet.

"Yeah, of course. If that's what you want."

"Is that what you want?"

Did I want to be a girl? I don't want to answer that question. It sounds like a question I shouldn't answer. There's obviously a right and a wrong answer. So why am I so scared of it? Did I want to be a girl? It's such an embarrassing question. It should be easy for any guy. I guess though, as previously established, I don't have to be a guy. Is that okay? That's what I want, I think. It would make a lot of things easier. I think that's what I might want. Is that okay? Not being a guy? I'm still scared of the real answer to the question.

Did I want to be a girl? Before now it was something I didn't even know was possible. I guess, if you pushed me to admit it, I have thought about what it might be like to be a girl in the past. Sometimes it was because I related to the lesbians on screen, but there were other times. Being around guys was a scary task, but being around girls only made me anxious. Sometimes, I thought, if I was a girl, making friends would be easier. All my friends now are girls, and I wouldn't have to deal with the teasing and the shame I feel now. Other times, at school, I'd sometimes sit alone and look at people's outfits. Mostly girls' outfits. They're just, so much nicer. More variety. Actual expression. Something I was never allowed to do. Maybe, if I was a girl, I could wear nice outfits. Expressing myself. Have a girlfriend and be comfortable with myself.

Woah.

That was... nice? A nice feeling. A warm feeling. It's been a very long time since I've felt something like that. Does that mean this is something I want? I mean, it sure sounds better on paper, but there has to be something keeping me from just, being a girl. It has to be harder than that.

"It can't... It doesn't just work like that!" I cry out, "I can't just say I'm a girl. That's not how it works. Girls know they are girls and guys know they are guys," I'm not even sure I truly believed the words I was saying, but I needed something to keep this dam from breaking.

"Oh, but it does!" Julia said with a smirk, "You can be whoever you want, and if being a girl would make you happier, then chances are you are a girl."

"Is that really okay? To be a girl when I'm so clearly not?"

"Duh. Plus, you are pretty far from 'clearly not a girl' in my books. You're basically like one of the girls already. We would joke about that, and I would see you secretly smile, even if you didn't want us to see it." Sam says.

She was right, too. I did always smile when that happened, even if I didn't understand. I always wanted to be included in girls' spaces like I was one of their own. Spaces like that were always so much comfier and safer for me. It's why I like hanging out with Julia and Sam so much. It's just way better than male spaces. So much posturing and bullying. So mean. Rough. Uncomfortable. Being in those spaces felt like I was wearing my Dad's old suit, three sizes too small and made with fabric that gives you hives. Being told though, that I actually belong in the spaces I want to be in? It feels so good. I've always wanted to belong here. Enjoy the media I'm not supposed to enjoy, but now they're telling me I'm allowed to enjoy the things I enjoy. Occupy the spaces I feel most comfortable in. I'm smiling through the teeth. Any feelings of shame can't keep me from hiding this. It feels too good to hide, too pure. I have to admit it.

"That feels... very, very nice," I sniffle, still smiling, "Way better than being called one of the boys," It was true.

"Awwwww, that smile of yours is just so pure," Julia coos.

"Is that really okay? I don't have to be a guy? I can be a... girl," I say the last two words almost at a whisper, like they were words I wasn't allowed to say. 

"Of course!" Julia says, with just a huge supportive smile on her face, "You're clearly much happier thinking about yourself like that. Don't lie, we can both see that absolute joyous smile of yours, and we never see you smile!"

That was true. I rarely smile, rarely show emotions. This time though, it just felt right. It felt so easy. Was it really that easy? To just, be a girl?

“You’d need a name,” Sam pipes in.

She’s right. I would need a name. A name that is way better than Brandon at least. Shuddering even as I think about it. As I try to think of alternatives, a memory, from a while ago, shines in my head. 

I’m 13. Mom is talking about me being a father someday. Even then the thought of being a grown man irked me, but that’s not why I’m here. While she goes on, I’m thinking about names for a kid. Younger me couldn’t care less about what being a father was like, but caring for who would eventually be my kid was something I was infinitely more invested in. My kid would be beautiful. They would succeed and be themselves and I would be so proud of them no matter who they were. My kid needed a name. 

It’s hard to think of a name. There were a couple that popped into my mind really fast, but none of them stuck. Eventually, I decided I’d keep a mental note of names I liked as I grew. You know, what eventual parent wouldn’t? As I found the names I liked, I realized they were only girls' names. Hannah. Carly. Gwen. Growing paranoid I would only want a daughter, and that I’d neglect any future son I could have, I thought about boy names I liked.

None came to mind. Nothing. I mean, sure, there were some I wouldn’t mind seeing my kid be named. Anything but Brandon, really, but I didn’t like any of them.

Now that I look back on it, it kinda makes sense. My feelings towards those names weren’t about my future children. They were names for me. I almost smiled at the thought. Keeping names that made me feel good, and them being only girls names because that’s something I desperately wanted.

God, it’s true. It was what I desperately wanted. To be her, and above all, one name for her stood above the rest.

"I think... if it's okay, and nobody minded, that I would really like to be a called Leah." I finally say. A weight has been lifted. A suit of armour has finally come off. I walk free in a field of flowers without the burden of not knowing who I am. I know who I am. A girl. It has to be true. There is nothing else in the world that feels more true. Feelings of shame from before dissapate. Happiness replaces them. I'm just so happy, I can't believe it. This is real. This is something I am allowed to be. 

I can be a girl. This is real. 

“Awwwww,” Both Julia and Sam coo in unison, something I’d expect of Julia but out of character for Sam. I guess this was just a really big moment. It sure felt that way, “It suits you so well, Leah,” Julia adds.

“Yeah, a cute name for a cute girl,” Sam adds on, teasing, sending me into a blushing storm.

“Ahhhhhhhhhh,” covering my face I make noises of blush and fluster, “You can’t just say that!”

“Oh, I totally can, Leah, what are you going to do to, stop me?” Sam teases again.

No. Not if it lets me hear that name, my name, again. Leah. That’s who I was. It made so much more sense now. Everything did. I had a long road ahead of me, and lots of teasing from my mom and my friends, but if I got to face it as Leah, I’m sure I could handle it.

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