TRIXIE'S DIARY - December 20, 1991

 

 

Finally rid myself of the needy twins. It took a few tries before they realized I was serious about moving on. They said they understood, but they clearly weren’t pleased. They practically begged me to stick around, even offered me a permanent room in the estate. I have to admit, Diary, that was tempting. Sliding around in their silk sheets became sort of a sick comfort, and it would have been nice to have that comfort all to myself. But no. This change needed to happen. I’m on my way to being able to sustain myself with a job that isn’t exploiting my body. I’m done with that life for good. I have to be.

Well, I mean, you could argue waitressing is just a few steps away from prostitution, but you’d only say that if you were privileged enough to not have experienced what I have. I’ll take a few leering eyes and off-color comments any day. Besides, most of what happens at MOXY is in good fun. Aside from the occasional creep, the vibe is totally different than what I’m used to. It’s a wild, colorful party that attracts all of the freaks of Sweetville. Halloween never ends within the walls of MOXY.

This doesn’t mean the dating world suddenly became a breeze or anything. Try the opposite. I started seeing this guy Craig, who I met at MOXY a couple weeks ago. He was handsome in a Young Republican sort of way and brazen enough to ask me out, so why not? Don’t get all tsk-tsk with me, Miss Diary. I have no room to be picky at this point. He had come in a few times with a group of friends, and obviously everyone who comes to MOXY knows it’s just a bunch of queens working under our roof. Well, mostly. I’m in the clear, right? It should have been refreshing to not have to hide certain parts of myself, and at least I knew it wasn’t going to turn out like things did with Aron. God, I haven’t thought about that asshole in a long time. Little did I know things with Craig were going to go way in the opposite direction.

After a couple dates, things started to get more physical with him than just smooches and heavy petting. I spent the night with him so I could give Jesi a break from my mooching. I was a little weirded out about the possibility of getting naked with him, but right away I realized he didn’t have any problem with any part of my body. It was refreshing being so sexually open with someone without an exchange of currency. I mean, the Zanes never had a problem with it either, but in retrospect I probably should have realized there was nothing exactly normal about incestuous twin brothers. Amen? Amen.

Basically, Craig started treating my penis like it was his own personal little lollipop. It’s a total conflict of interest for me, too. Obviously it feels good. Despite my hormone therapy almost eradicating any erections at this point, sometimes it’s still functional if stimulated just right. I wish I could figure out what causes that BS so I could put a stop to it. Blah. But it’s just as much a turn off as a turn on because it’s supposed to be the little man in the boat that’s getting all hot and bothered. I mean, I can only pretend so much, you know? My imagination still has flesh-bound limitations.

I thought at first that Craig was just being selfless, that he didn’t expect me to be the only one performing fellatio or something. It’s the thought that counts, right, Miss Diary? But no, he became obsessed with it. We couldn’t get into bed without him focusing on my penis instead of his. Despite his little guy being about as big as a turtlehead peeking out from under its shell, I really wanted things to be the other way around. Eventually I toughened up and said it had to stop, that I totally wasn’t cool with it.

So get this. He looked at me like I told him he had to quit eating bacon for the rest of his life. Totally shocked. The room was really quiet for a few minutes and he started sobbing a little bit. Crap. What was I supposed to do then, right? He told me stuff about it feeling so right because he was pretty sure he’s gay, and he didn’t understand why I was upset about it since I am too. Ugh. Worst. Situation. Ever. I mean, what was I supposed to do, Miss D? I really wanted to tell him that I was sorry to poop on his party, but this isn’t going to work out because I’m not gay. I’m a girl. Duh! But I couldn’t jeopardize my drag cover at MOXY, so I gave him the ever-useful cliché that it wasn’t him, it was me, and broke it off right there. He was pretty upset, but he’ll get over it. Haven’t seen him around at MOXY lately, so maybe he’s out cruising somewhere else. Hopefully he’s found his inner comfort. He wasn’t a bad guy, just very far from the right guy for me.

This sucks so bad. Maybe I’m just not cut out for relationships. Maybe I’m doomed to be alone forever.