Eric tries to get laid

The room is getting hazy with smoke, dust particles float in the beam of the strobe lights and the music plays and people dance. And I sit here. I smoke to add to the Smokey atmosphere, it’s just not cancerous enough for me! A woman catches my eye, oh she catches my eye so well. Got that come hither glimmer in her eyes, the red lips you’d just love to see pucker and the way she licks those red lips……I need to smoke something stronger! I down a rum & coke in one and ask for another, plucking up the courage like I pluck my guitar strings when alone and miserable in my flat. A flat note is still ringing in me though, the anxiety still in my throat as I swallow another rum & coke. I take another cigarette out of my pocket and light it, I watch the cherry lit end and watch as the ash builds up. I find watching smoke calms me, soothes my nerves. I ask for a vodka and tonic. I imagine in my head that i have a wing man, pats me on the back and says “Go on, son! You can’t leave ‘em waiting forever!” I don’t know why he calls me son, I guess I must imagine an older friend or maybe I need a father figure. I drink the vodka and tonic and I approach the woman as casually and smoothly as possible, I want to portray an image to you of a smooth slick approach from a man who appears to be oozing with confidence but the truth is, I look like piss. If there is one thing I’ve learnt over the years, it’s that I need a change in tactic. I’m going to smack her with truth before any lip smacking goes on. “Hey” I say to her, holding out my had for her to shake. A niggling voice in the back of my head ‘this is not how you greet a woman’ ‘well how do you greet a woman then?’
“Hey” she smiles
“Listen, I have to admit, I’m…” I gulp and look around “I’m very nervous about this”
“What talkin’ to me? Aww! Come on, I don’t bite!”
I must have looked disappointed because then she says “Unless you want me to” she nudges me lightly with her shoulder and winks
“I…I’m wondering…if you’d still be so friendly if I told you my secret”
She looks at me intrigued
“I wouldn’t normally tell a woman so early in meeting her…”
“Oh my god, please don’t finish this sentence”
I look at her blankly “What?”
“We’ve only just met, in fact I don’t even know you’re name yet”
“I’m called Eric, and I wouldn’t worry, it’s not related to you. It’s something about me”
“Okay” she squinters her eyes at me sceptically and clutches a red purse in her hands close to her chest
“When I tell you this information, if you’re disgusted or just don’t want to know anything more, I’d ask if you could leave it discreet and just walk away. No shouting out about it”
“You’re kinda freaking me out now” she laughs nervously
“In order to stop any pretence between us I’m putting my cards on the table early. I…” my heart beats fast, my face is sweating. “I’m a trans man”
The woman looked at me with her, oh so mesmerising eyes, looked me up and down in that judgemental way I remember girls doing on the school playground and suddenly I feel naked in front of he. She sucks in air through her teeth making an almost kissy sort of sound “I only go with real men”
Oh it blows. Right to the jugular! “Do you ever use dildos on yourself?” I ask
She looks at me, mouth gaping open “Excuse me?”
“It’s just if you do, it’s kinda like that I guess”
She scoffs
“Yea, scoff you might. But think about it, at what point does a cock feel different inside you to what the dildo does? It did the same job right? I mean look at this way, I could be any size you wanted. I could send you a catalogue of all the sizes I could be.”
“fucking freak” she says and walks away
“I’ll send you the catalogue yea? You can choose your inches” it’s not really a positive to me, that I can choose size. It’s not some silver lining in it all. Some transmen lie to themselves about it, going on about how it’s this silver lining in all of the suffering that they can change their dick or some shit. Fuck that, my dysphoria is too severe and real to lie to myself like that. Still I have to use what I’ve got and so this was my attempt. I could have a catchphrase “What inches do you need? I can pack that for you!” yea I should get it printed on business cards and give it out to women “I can pack the inches you want, today. Just give me a call!” You could say I’m cheapening myself, but what’s cheaper than fucking with a fake cock trying to feel something for yourself? It makes no sense really, logically that I even want sex. Truth be told I don’t feel much when I do, even if it’s direct contact because my brain does not compute my body, yet still I have this sex drive that somehow wants to replicate itself and feel a woman’s touch. Oh just to feel a woman’s touch! To have the curves of a woman right there in front of me for me to devour and to have her moaning because of me, little old me! Yea it’s all superficial in the end, it’s all chemicals inside our brains and really you’re just plugging yourself into the matrix. But sometimes you just want to plug yourself into the damn matrix!


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