Nick: Small Steps

In his last column, Alex alluded to seeing me at the Bethesda Conference and seeming to have a chip on my shoulder. Well, wouldn't you? It's been two months and I still don't have a handle on my life.

I lashed out at him a little bit, which afterward made me feel like a bit of a bitch. I guess I felt he didn't understand anything about what I was going through since he hasn't been swapped (yet) and in my opinion has a limited understanding of what we go through, even he's spend all these months talking to every swapee he can possibly get in touch with. There's nothing like first-hand experience.

And then Dr. Bergman drops this bomb, casting doubt on my identity. I wonder if she really believes that she's just a little Mexican girl with a scientist's brain. If she doesn't miss the touch of his wife or being able to lift his kids up. And if he really, really thinks it's temporary, if he's really not worried about spending years of his life growing into a young girl's body. Because I know I am.

I didn't want to be anything. For the longest time, my biggest ambition as a swapee was to keep my head down, make a living, stay independant and just coast. But months go by and make it seem impossible. Every morning I wake up on the couch, wait for a body that's rightfully mine to get out of the shower, change into a fresh pair of panties, and feel so damn lonely. Even my new best friend doesn't understand, and for a long time, I didn't think Traci was willing to listen.

I was feeling crappy already when I finally sat down to have a talk about it with Traci. I didn't know who to turn to. I thought about Cherrie, but she was occupied and I didn't want to lay the trip on her (plus, it'd open up other issues I'd rather keep bottled for now.) All my old friends are in Chicago, and they're men so I don't even think they think about me the same way they used to. I needed someone I could trust. So I called Traci over to the table on Tuesday before the conference and just bared my soul. At first I didn't even think he was listening. Then he starts breaking down and for the first time in my life, I see my grown male (former) body crying.

"I'm sorry," he sobs, "Oh God, I'm a mess." He wipes his eyes and tells me that he and Rose had split up, that he had become the kind of man he hated, who was concerned mostly with sex and a good time and didn't understand what was going on until it was too late. That he'd pushed away a woman who was a good friend and patient girlfriend because of his newfound male stupidity. I thought it was a cop-out to blame the body, but I guess that without being raised that way it doesn't come with training wheels.

And there we were, two lonely swapped people commiserating in the night, sharing tears and stories when something unexpected happened... he kissed me, or I kissed him, or somebody kissed the other anyway. And it was seriously the first intimate contact I'd had in all my time as a woman and, despite the nagging guilt at the back of my mind, I didn't want it to let up.

And that's the story of how I lost my female virginity.

Trust me, I felt awful afterward, and he did too - especially because from his perspective he was committing the very crime he'd just confessed. But I admitted that, at the time, I wanted it, and even felt better for having had it, but didn't think we should continue that. It was just, a big step. I don't know, maybe now I'll be less afraid of intimacy, of opening up and being a person again, not just an employee and citizen.

Which is why I took Bergman's revelation badly. Because I'm not her, I'm not Traci at all, and I don't want things to change, because I want to believe that I, Nick Blanchard, am growing as a person, as a woman.

But, having told that story, there is still one very important chapter to write...

-Nick