by Maria Benson
###
I wanted to snatch Sydney and put her back into her seat when she got up to answer Dr. Lott’s question. While she’s an invaluable best friend, the woman is a loose cannon when it comes to discussions of love and romance. That’s very inconvenient when you’re the one sitting next to her and all eyes in the room shift her way. Then there was the question of her irrational shyness about her lesbian identity. I had frankly been so underwater trying to deal with my own stuff, I had failed to challenge her about her poorly executed attempts at “closeting.” I have to be honest, as she took the microphone offered to her I hoped she wasn’t choosing tonight to come out. Momma just didn’t have the strength to support her through that exercise, not tonight.
“My name is Sydney Latham,” she said. As some of the guys around us hooted softly and more than a few females rolled their eyes, Sydney bit her lower lip and looked right into Dr. Lott’s eyes. “Doctor, my rep precedes me, as you may notice. Let’s just say I’m a woman who has figured out what type of people ‘do it’ for me and which ones don’t. While I may not want the same things most girls want from their men, I can see what most of my female friends want from the men in their lives.”
Dr. Lott crossed her arms loosely. “And what is it you think your sisters want, Sydney?”
I wasn’t really sure what I was doing, but next thing I knew I was on my feet. As shocked as I was by that fact, Sydney looked downright pleased to see me standing beside her. She winked at me before replying to Dr. Lott. “I, ah, am going to yield my mike to this beautiful woman here.”
I slid over to the microphone, inhaling deeply in the search for calm as I found my words. “Dr. Lott, my name is Aimee a-and I want to thank you again for hosting this event. To answer your question, most women like me want a few simple things: Loyalty, affection, emotional support, and self-control. I know that’s all I need, even though in my experience it seems to be too much to ask for. I don’t apologize for wanting all that–I used to make a pretty big fool of myself chasing men who I thought could provide it–but I learned it was easier to just expect far less from them.”
Dr. Lott smiled at me. “Aimee, you just said something very telling. You think it’s impossible for a man to be loyal, supportive, responsible and self-controlled? Where is your evidence?”
“Come on, Dr. Lott. You know all the statistics. Men are conquering predators by nature, so they can never be loyal or self-controlled with respect to their bodies. They’ll always be hunting the next victim. So right out of the box, women learn we’ll never get what we want from these guys. From there we have to choose between taking which things we can get–”
Seated, Sydney cupped her hands around her mouth. “Or taking alternative measures!”
That stirred the men up. More than a few guys jumped out of their seats and began shouting in defense of all men. Dr. Lott wasn’t having it.
“Men, now please, we must behave like grown folk here. You will get your turn. Aimee, let’s talk about this idea of men who are supportive and protective of their women. Is that something you’ve ever experienced in your dating relationships?”
My right foot tapped involuntarily, giving away the fact I was losing patience with the Good Doctor. “Look, I’m proud to still be standing here, confident and reasonably professionally accomplished, after some of the relationships I’ve had. If I sound harsh, it’s based on years of intimate experience.”
Dr. Lott frowned. “Were there any men who even came close to meeting the majority of your stated needs?”
I hesitated and steadied myself against my own chair as my mind filled with visions of Chad, my college boyfriends, Ian, and the nearly faceless bodies who had come in between them. “There was one,” I said, defensively playing fast and loose with my referencing of Ian. “He was loving and affirming with me. He was always honest, too, even if it didn’t mean we were exclusive.”
Dr. Lott sprang from her stool and stepped to the edge of the stage. “Why didn’t things work out with this guy?”
The crowd hummed in apparent anticipation of my answer, but I shut them out and stared straight at Dr. Lott. “We’re not going there.”
I pivoted with an eye on taking my seat, only to have Sydney and Tara push me back to the mike. “You’re doing great,” Tara mouthed before pinching me. Hard.
Dr. Lott had stepped down from the stage onto the floor. She hadn’t taken more than a few steps in my direction, but it still felt a little threatening. “We’ll step off the details, okay Aimee? Can you tell me, though, whether this one positive relationship reminded you of previous important relationships in your life? Say, with your father or another male family elder?”
I mumbled “Shit” under my breath, then hoped the mike hadn’t picked it up. “I don’t think it serves much purpose, but I’m sure my father is to blame for the fact that I hate most men. At least he taught me early on how to survive without positive affirmation. That’s probably made it easier for me to expect less and less of men over the years.”
A handsome but bald-headed guy–he reminded me of a totally White-looking Vin Diesel –stepped to a microphone near the stage. “Dr. Lott,” he said when acknowledged, “I’d like to hear more from Aimee about the types of affirmation and support we men are supposed to give women.”
Dr. Lott frowned. “Why does this interest you?”
“Well, to be frank, aside from the Gold Diggers I don’t think women even know what they want from us men anymore.” The air filled with whoop-whoops as he launched forward. “I mean, aside from hooking up, what do all these career women want from me? The first questions they ask me, when we start circling each other? What do you do? How much you make? Where you live? What you drive?” He paused to accept a couple of nearby high-fives. “But oh, even if they’re impressed by the answers, they hit back pretty quickly with ‘This is what I do, where I live, what I drive, where I’m headed.’ They already got their career plans laid out and they make it real clear they don’t need me. I’m like an optional strap-on tool for their occasional amusement.” Most of the men were doubled over in laughter, while many women like me were speechless.
“And I already know,” white Vin continued, “that life would just get more confusing if I married any of these ladies. My married buddies, man, they can’t catch a break. They work hard all day, but since their lady insists on doing the same when they get home they just sit there looking at each other. You gonna cook? You gonna clean? Who’s raising these kids? A man can’t be a king anywhere at this point–everything’s about gender equality even though it’s the men who are falling behind in the job market and we get constantly reminded that these women don’t need us.” He turned to face the full room, his gaze defiant in the face of the females’ howls. “With all that going on, how’re we supposed to give you ladies anything?”
Our reaction was swift and sure. The room filled with shouts of “Tired, Tired,” “Typical,” and “Next.” I crossed my arms and leaned into the microphone, quieting the room. “Well, Doc, we can go home now. This joker just proved my point.” I shook my head as waves of female laughter rocked the room, realized I was really enjoying myself. “Men are too self-absorbed to even think about what we go through. They’re too focused on satisfying themselves to even think about satisfying us, helping us achieve the peace and sanity we need.” I stared my opposing speaker down. “That’s why so many of us have lowered our expectations.”
CHAPTER 24
Michael
I really hadn’t planned on taking part in this little forum. With my mother’s friend leading things, I had decided not to call attention to myself. However, Aimee’s “woe is me” pronouncements were a bit too much to take. As the bald-headed guy near the front calmly defended his remarks, I rose from my seat and smiled awkwardly at Sarah. I had my eye on a microphone a couple tables to my left. Before I could take my first step, Scott’s hand was on my shoulder.
“Michael, what the hell are you doing?”
&nbs
p; Leaning over, I whispered in reply. “I’m not letting her stay up on that cross. Somebody’s got to set her straight.”
“Are you out of your mind? You can’t win here. You’ll either piss off some babe you might have a shot with, or make yourself look like a square if you’re too sincere. Sit your ass down.”
I ignored Scott’s hissing and strode to the microphone. The guy at the other mike had finished his response and Sarah was eyeing me with curiosity. “He won’t like my disclosing this, but I should announce the handsome young man at the microphone is like a godson to me. Michael, what did you want to share?”
I slid one hand into the pocket of my slacks and tried to look nonchalant. “Yes, Dr. Lott, I’d like to respond to this indictment on all men. As a college-educated, drug-free, childless male with a good job, I’d like everyone to remember there are quite a few ‘good guys’ out here. Those who would be more than happy to give you ladies affirmation, support, protection and loyalty, if you’d let us.”
Sarah gave me a knowing glance. “If they’d let you, huh? I think I hear an accusation in there somewhere.”
I kept my eyes straight ahead, toward Sarah, though I could feel Aimee in my peripheral view, cutting me with her stare. “Well, I seem to know more than a few guys who have everything that you ladies claim to want, at least when you’re on talk shows or at forums like these. Men with mortgages and jobs, guys who believe in monogamy. Unfortunately, these men all have one thing in common: they can’t get anywhere with you because you’re holding out for God Knows Who.” I let my chest swell as the ladies flooded me with catcalls. “Oh, come on now, I know what you women really want, what you really talk about behind the scenes. We’re not all fools.
“In junior high, I saw how my teenage female cousins evaluated the guys who were interested in them. They rated guys based on ’the system.’ It was three simple questions: Number One: Is He Hot? Hot meant he had to be well-built and preferably tall, have a nice head of hair, and facial features comparable to the popular actors of the day. Anyone who didn’t measure up was automatically marked down. Number Two: Sex Appeal. If the guy didn’t have a reputation for being skilled at hooking up, it was on to the next applicant. And Number Three: Money. If he didn’t have a nice ride and money to hook her up with a regular supply of gifts, the dude was cut from the squad–”
Though a beautiful brunette stood at her elbow, clearly eager to take me on, it was Aimee who cut me off. “Seriously, Michael?” Hands on her hips, she boxed out the brunette to keep the mike to herself. “You’re going to get on us women for doing the same things you men do? I don’t see you dating women who are unattractive, bad in bed, and broke.”
The surrounding crowd and its noise melted away as I stared across the room at Aimee. Smirking, I shifted my feet and defiantly met her angry glare. “Oh, did I claim sainthood there? That’s the difference between men and women, Aimee. Men admit to what we are: some of us are Dogs, some are good dudes, most go back and forth. Wherever we fall on the spectrum, though, we don’t kid ourselves.”
Aimee to me, as if the room were empty: “So where do you fall on the spectrum?”
I kept my instinctive response to myself. Wouldn’t you like to know. “Personally, I used to err on the side of Nice,” I said, “before I realized that’s not what you women really want.”
I grabbed my mike off its stand and strode further into the crowd. “I’ll bet if I polled this room, no woman would admit to wanting a cheating man. But I’ll bet most of you are with a man who’s cheating on you right now! Why is that?” My question was drowned out by shrieks from the ladies and laughter from the men, including Scott and Bobby. Confident that I’d raised enough hell for the night, I bopped back to my seat.
###
An hour into the seminar, and things were getting nasty. Dr. Lott was a smooth moderator, but even she looked a little surprised at the heated give and take going on. I was wondering if she was going to turn Michael over her knee later for getting us women so heated up. Tara was getting into the act, shouting into her microphone after some guy laughed at her for dating younger men.
“You damn right I date blue-collar, younger guys, if that’s what it takes for me to have some quality male companionship! Why should I sit at home with my vibrator, just because the brothers with degrees think they can have fifteen women at once?”
A heavyset guy in a flashy silk shirt smiled at Tara from across the room. “Sweetheart, the problem is that you’re a rare one to date younger, lower-income guys. Most of you would sooner share a wealthy guy with his wife.”
Tara stuck a hand into the air, then proceeded to give the idiot a lesson on the impact of deadbeat dads on women’s psyches. “Where do you think we learn to be skeptical of you all? A lot of us learn early on, at home, that a woman can’t count on a man.”
Dr. Lott checked her watch before jumping in. She reminded the crowd that in many cultures, single mothers taught their daughters to watch out for Number One and to be self-reliant out of necessity. The heavy guy tried to counter that as an excuse for women not trusting men, citing his abusive relationship with his mother and the work he’d put in to avoid making women in his life pay for it. By the time Dr. Lott negotiated further dialogue between Tara and her male “opponent,” she had the two of them in violent agreement, a sentiment that had begun to sweep the room. When the good doctor proposed a return trip to Chicago in the near term, the audience roared in support.
“I have one favor to ask as we close–I am hoping to meet all of you in a few minutes at my book-signing table, I really am. I’d like to specifically ask if these participants in tonight’s discussion could stop by, though.” She read off two names, then mine. As butterflies swam in my stomach, she added one more. “Oh, and Michael Blake, you know why I want you to check in with me. I will call your Momma if you don’t, boy!”
By the time I rolled up to Dr. Lott’s table, holding ticket number 34, I was intrigued. When I extended a hand and offered my name, she beamed up at me. “Thank you for coming by. Half the time when I single people out to speak, I scare them off.” She winked. “I think they’re afraid I’m going to pick their messy little lives apart.”
Nervous laughter animated my face as we shook hands. “Ah, go easy on me please?”
Dr. Lott waved a hand, then began signing the book I had handed her. “Nothing like that, Aimee. Look, your book is on the house tonight, I’m handing you a “Paid” sticker. You want to know why?”
My mouth opened into a wide grin. “What, you enter every participant into a raffle or something?”
“Give yourself more credit than that.” The corners of Dr. Lott’s mouth curled into a warm smile. “I sense a real gift for communication in you. You expressed yourself tonight in a very candid and clear fashion. Best of all, it didn’t feel like you came in with an agenda.” She tapped one of my hands. “Which is not to say you shouldn’t have one, you feel me?”
I cocked my head sideways in response, feeling both confused and flattered.
The Doc smiled knowingly. “All I’m saying,” she said as she closed my book and handed it to me, “is that you have a gift. Use it.”
By the time I had relayed the conversation to Tara and Sydney and we gathered up our purses and jackets, we were surrounded by male admirers. Several of the men were most intrigued with Sydney; I think they were guys who relished a challenge. I was weighing whether to give my number to a well-sculpted blond-haired guy with an expensive-looking haircut, when someone tapped my shoulder.
It was Michael. His blazer in one hand, dangling over his shoulder, his free hand in a pocket, he leaned in close.
“Quite a night’s worth of conversation, huh?”
I held my purse in front of me protectively, letting it dangle. “People were keeping it pretty real.”
He smiled. “I guess you kind of started that ball rolling.”
“I can’t take the credit; that was Dr. Lott’s orchestration. But it does almost make y
ou think there’s hope for ‘real talk’ between the sexes.”
Michael leaned in closer. “Speaking of that, it’s still early. What do you say we follow the spirit of the evening and grab a drink somewhere, my treat? Maybe I can atone for our standoff at Winthrop’s.”
I crossed my arms and narrowed my eyes. What was he up to?
###
Awaiting Aimee’s response, I felt a faint stirring in my chest. Not the uncontrolled nervousness that used to overtake me in these situations, just a slight elevation in emotion. By now, my body count of sexual conquests had swelled to twenty, a sum still considered paltry by most. It represented a huge proportional increase for me, though, and I was feeling every bit of it. But here I was, a newly minted man, waiting with baited breath for one woman’s approval. I told myself I didn’t really care if Aimee gave me a chance to work my newly developed charms or not; hell, rejection was the occasional price of being a good Dog. I imagine I might have convinced myself of that if Aimee’s answer had been a flat “No.”
She hugged Sydney and Tara and accepted a business card from the blond-haired Golds Gym reject before turning to me. “I don’t know why, but I’m inclined to say yes.” She ran a pointer finger across my cheek as she said, “Stay tuned. I know how to find you.”
CHAPTER 25
Michael
Aimee’s teasing promise to follow up with me stayed in my mind more than I wanted to admit. A week later, she still stood front-and-center in my thoughts as I stepped into the South Loop Fitness Formula club. I had left the condo of my most recent one-night conquest, a young ballet dancer, before 7 so I could run home, throw on my workout clothes, pick up my nephew José and meet Bobby for a Saturday morning workout. This had become a regular thing since the start of my transformation training. Scott had joined initially, but given he was blessed with mad metabolism and little appetite, he never could commit to an exercise regimen.