Cherish your innocence. Friend

Virgin sex sucks (usually). Therapist

Thinking of fornicating? Kill yourself instead. Parents

I just want to be nice to you. Guy on Train

 

July 2018

My job as intern at a party for the Ice Festival was to stand around and do nothing. Doing something, I talked with an acquaintance in attendance. I offered myself up for the dance theater piece he was working on. “I’d be happy to have you.” 

I showed up at rehearsal the next Monday in the basement of the New School. We started working on an experimental piece about Alan Turing’s love for his computer who he called “baby.” It was just me and another dancer/performer. Jesse. I was intimidated from the start when they went about warming up. I started dancing the year before when I had not known how to skip – Jesse was a natural. I knew I would hate them if I didn’t talk with them, so I introduced myself with the news of my jealousy. 

We sat and talked on the stoop of 78 West 12 St. while they rolled a cigarette, smoking. I did my usual ‘Get to Know Someone:’ “Tell me ten fun facts about yourself. After they gave me theirs, I shared mine. 

Me: I wish I were shorter. 

Jesse: I like tall women. 

We talked for about an hour. 

They told me I was beautiful and ran their hand through my hair.

 

We had rehearsal again that Wednesday. Afterward I asked Jesse if they wanted to hang out the next day. Beaming they said yes. Having asked them out it was their job to pick the activity – I told them so. Movie. Incredibles 2.  Evening.

I messaged to confirm on Thursday.

Jesse: Oh shoot I’m giving stick and poke tatts at my place.

Me: Ahh ok.

(pause)

Jesse: You should come on over, I can give you a stick and poke if you’d like ?.

I wasn’t sure if I was ready for a tattoo, but I was down to come over to their place in Brooklyn. I showered after work. Against the advice of friends, I only wore a lacy bralette and paperbag pants. On the train, Jesse: I’m actually coming into the city. 

I rerouted heading to Meeting Spot – corner of 8th Ave. and 14th St. They got there half an hour late, calling my name as they crossed the crosswalk.

Jesse seemed to morph every time I looked at them. Jesse looked like Eleven from Stranger Things.

We hugged. 

Jesse: I actually rearranged my plans. I just need to do this one drop then we can do whatever.

 We went into the apartment building at 295 W 11th St. Jesse did a weed drop. Selling a bag to a guy who swore a lot, lived with his mother, and slept in his childhood bed.  Along with the guy we went down to the pier alongside the West Side Highway, passing Anne Leibovitz’s house and Keanu Reeves’ abandoned seven-story castle. Jesse asked me if I wanted to smoke a joint with them. I declined. We ditched the guy and lay down on the grass. Jesse took out their notebook and began to draw me. There was silence there was talking. We played Two Truths and a Lie. We shared our fears. They took pictures of me. I tried to take pictures of them, but I soon gave up, I wasn’t good. “What to do next?” We decided to go back to their place. We walked back down to eighth avenue.

Jesse: I admire your patience and willingness. 

Me: It’s because I bottle things up.  

Jesse: Like what?

Me: This might kill the vibe but are you in any shape or form interested in me?

They looked me in the eye. 

Jesse: “Totally. But this might also kill the vibe, but can I be honest with you as well?

Me: Sure.

Jesse: I’m kinda into this other girl as well, I know you’re interested in a relationship but I’m not sure I can do that.

Me: I don’t care.

I asked them what the other girl’s name was. Michelle. Michelle and Jesse hung out the night prior. The conversation moved on. I told them about the time I willingly got myself kidnapped. Jesse told me that the amount of people that fall in love with them overwhelms them. I told them about my trans fetishists. They told me they were molested -starting at the age of four – by their best friend’s father. 

Jesse: Can we hold hands?

We did. A guy passed us giving a weird look. Jesse gave him the peace sign that turned into a fuck you. The plans changed. We were going to go to the Highline. They bought a bottle of champagne and an egg and turkey sandwich and we sat down on the bleachers at 10th avenue and 17th St., overlooking the traffic below. Surrounded by model photoshoots, and couples making out. We talked. The Highline was closing. We left.

Walking down a mostly deserted street Jesse stopped us at a pole. They took out the mostly undrunk champagne and we took to swinging the bottle until it was empty. I don’t know how we got so close. Their fanny pack was the only thing between us. Jesse told me that they knew I wanted to kiss them. 

Jesse: Do it.

I begged them to do it for me.

Jesse: You need to do it. I can’t do it for you.

I kissed them. They took over.

People are supposed to taste like things. Jesse tasted like caramelized rhubarb and teeth.

An aroused security guard a few feet away took out his dick.

After that we headed the Union Square train station. Because after consulting their phone Jessie needed to part. There was a merchandizer hanging out at a bar Jesse needed to meet – they were planning on starting a rock band. If I had my photo ID I could have gone with. On our way to the square we ran around the streets, holding each other’s hands, dancing, racing — nearly running into passerby, someone was cheering Jesse on; they were losing. We stopped continuously because I would get dizzy.

Jesse: I never met anyone like you.

At Union Square, we sat down on one of the vehicle-ramming-prevention boulders.  The world spinning around us I lay my head on Jesse’s shoulder while they smoked. We kissed and headed into the train station. 

Jesse: I’m sorry that I taste like cigarettes.

Me: I like it.

We jumped the turnstile. I walked them to the L train, and we kissed at the stairs. Jesse said that they would let me know if they could make it to the variety show at my internship on Friday night. When I got back to my dorm at two o’clock, I checked their Instagram account. Jesse had posted the photos they took of me.

 

4 pm on Friday I texted them.

Me: Last night was great. Are you gonna be able to make it?

Jesse: I don’t know yet. 

The variety show started with no Jesse. But it ended just as quickly – only one person bought a ticket. I messaged them that I was free.

Jesse was at a metal concert, but they didn’t know if I would make it on time.

Me: I’m coming

There was no response, but I figured it was because it had already started. I got there a half-hour later passing through a barn door into a roaring bar. I found them in the center throwing their body around to the music, their head flinging to the thrashing of the drums, their body pulsating and catapulting. Attempting to get lost. They stretched out their hand for me. I handed them my bag and umbrella, and they took to the personal items’ mountain at the corner of the bar. Their friend who was dancing ballet moves yelled her name into my ear, “Sophie!” Jesse came back. In their glory. Four inched platforms, light brown flowy skirt, black shirt with a white vertical strip across, and silver eye shadow. We danced. We kissed. They called me babe. The lead guitarist broke his guitar and the lead singer hurled his shirtless body unto me. The concert ended

I left Jesse to go grab my belongings. I came back. Jesse was chatting with a girl dressed as a cowboy. The four of us, Jesse, Sophie, Cowboy, and I went outside. I asked Cowboy what her name was, but I already knew. Michelle. The Michelle. The other girl.

Jesse was a Jack-of-all-Trades creative. Sophie wanted to start an artist collective. Michelle was a painter. 

Sophie: Are you a photographer?

Me: No. 

Sophie: You look like one. 

Jesse: You do Can I tell them? I’m sorry but I just think it’s the coolest thing ever.

Me: Go for it.

Jesse: She grew up in the Chasidic Community. 

Bahooing over me ensued. 

Michelle: I want a drink. 

Jesse looked at me inquisitively.

Me:  I would like to, but I forgot my ID again.

Jesse: Oh, it’s ok. I’ll buy it for you.

Jesse: What do you want?

Me: Anything.

Jesse: See, she’s the coolest person ever.

 

With Jesse and Michelle gone inside I was left with Sophie and a guy who joined us, Sean, who wanted us to know how very aware he was of his privilege as a Cis-White-Male. We talked about religion then other things.  Sean, Sophie, and I were alone for a long twenty minutes. Sean talked about the beauty of Femme identifying people’s vulnerability.

Jesse and Michelle came out of the bar. Michelle orgasmic.

 

Assorted occurred. I danced with Jesse. They left the dance floor. Sophie showed off – doing the worm. I danced with others. Someone named Bob begged me to teach him my “dance moves.” I told him I had no clue what I was doing, I was looking for Jesse. They were outside poking Michelle in the stomach. 

Me: I’m tired, I think I’m going to go home. 

Jesse: OK. I’ll walk you.

Someone asked Jesse if they were leaving.
Jesse: No. I’ll be back.

They stopped strangers asking if now with their platforms they were taller than me. 

Strangers: No.

Jesse: Arrgghh.

 

Me: I don’t want to be in a contest. I want to know where I stand.

Jesse: I’m a mess… I have a lot of things going on… I have known these people for a long time… I’m not sure I’m in the right place… I still want to hang out with you, but I’m only okay with flirtation. Is that ok?

I gave them my sad face. 

Jesse: Don’t do that.

I shrugged.

We came to the train station. Jesse hugging and kissing me. 

 

I sat on the floor of Grand Central waiting for the 1:20 am Metro-North to Fleetwood sucking a ring candy.