NIKKI & JOE, CASUALLY |

42: modern-day relationship purgatory

            I check my phone as I enter Queer Awakening behind Joe. The top thing in my notification bar is an Instagram DM from Caleb: "Did you just leave me on read? We are getting a divorce." I pocket my phone without opening it.

The previous messages in the thread are a screenshot of Joe's story, a selfie she took of us in one of the mirrors in Arndale, and Caleb's castigation about me being a brain-dead git. "You already look like a couple". But I don't wanna think about that right now. Right now, I just wanna enjoy being with her, in whatever undefined way she'll take me.

Am I The Asshole for having feelings for my casual fuck buddy without telling her when she has explicitly said she doesn't want a relationship? Verdict: Yes.

'How have you never taken me here before?' There's an accusatory thread somewhere within Joe's awe.

She halted on the first step in and I have to move around her to get the door shut. I greet the shop assistant, then look down at Joe to answer, keeping my voice low but matter-of-fact. 'Well, thinking about you and sex in the same sentence would've made me spontaneously combust.'

'It doesn't anymore?'

'Definitely gets pretty close.'

I step away before I actually combust and guide her to a section dedicated to FTM products including everything from TransTape to strokers designed specifically for transmasc bodies after testosterone.

I'm not even sure if this—us—is summat she still wants. We've not had sex since the first weekend and that were a while ago. She hasn't sent me any texts about it. And sure, nor have I, but what am I supposed to say—"Hi! Wanna have sex today?" This were her idea.

Maybe the whole friends-with-benefits thing were one of those epiphanies you have while high that are moronic once you're clearheaded, like a microwave that cools food down or candles that work with electricity—an invention some might call "lamps". What if I bring it up and she bursts into laughter?

There's a chance she can't even remember it. Which might be for the best based on the reaction of everyone who has heard about it.

Caleb barely waited to step into the dressing room at Spectrum the weekend after I told him to announce it: Nikki's doing casual!

Rishi's response was: 'This is just like that time you got chlamydia.' Which were before we even met so how the fuck would he know? But even Allan added his hesitant disapproval. 'Are you sure? Don't get me wrong, I love casual as much as the next person—thank God for ARVs. I'm just not sure if casual is, like, a successful Nicolás thing. You can't make an old dog change its spots.'

Well, it's a successful Nicolás thing now.

Verdict: Baby girl, it's getting zeros across the board. Zeros, zeros, zeros! Across. The board.

'Look at this range.' Joe's mouth stays open as she inspects the variety of display packers. 'They have one that's my skin colour. I've never seen a dick that's my skin colour before. There's medium brown and the next one is just black.' She bounds a little on her feet.

I nod to the next set of shelves. 'They have dildos too. You should get one.'

Joe gets nowt short of starry-eyed, seeing the variety of colour, shape, and size replicated in the sex toys. But she don't manage even a step closer before the excitement wilts at the edges. 'Yeah, but what would I do with it?'

'You could fuck me with it.'

The off-handed way I planned on saying it—so I could play it off as a joke if it turns out the sex was limited to one weekend only—utterly fails. My body burns so hot that I wouldn't be surprised if I did actually combust. I have to scrunch my toes in my trainers. I wouldn't mind getting a lifetime ban from here if she wanted to bend me over the display table right now. 

New note: Don't ever have a conversation like this with Joe in public.

'Is that something you'd like?'

'Sure.' I clear my throat. 'This is the first time I've thought about it so, like, whatever.'

Brilliant idea to have worn joggers today. She has zero difficulty calling me out on my bluff. 

            Really, it is a miracle that I'm still intact when we leave Queer Awakening, Joe with a bag and business card in hold. The shop assistant helped her choose a gift for Caleb and a dildo for herself while I did my best to think about owt but sex which was, you know, relatively difficult given the setting.

Though she reiterates for the fourth time that she's okay taking the bus home, I open the passenger door for her and after a short starting match, she gets in the car.

I've never been happier to be stuck in traffic. I absentmindedly brush my locs with a bristle brush when we're caught in our third red light.

'Do you still have holiday shopping left?'

'Well, I've got you–' Joe turns to stare me down before I can disagree '–and my mum. She's bloody impossible to get anything for. The best Christmas gift I could get her is to get married to a Kittian millionaire and prove I'm not such an incompetent adult.'

'You're not incompetent, Joe,' I say, maybe more seriously than her joking tone warrants but I don't back down even when the light turns amber and I can't look at her. 'You keep going on about how you can't keep a job but you've been at Spectrum for several months now and I doubt Sasha's got any intention of sacking you. He well likes ya—everyone does. You've just done those extra courses from Open University too. And you've got that internship lined up. You're twenty-six! That's a perfectly normal place to be in.'

'Yeah, but... I've actually not sent the application.'

'What?'

With a groan, she sinks into the seat the way Cece has done countless times when I've lectured them, except she's significantly shorter and manages to slide much lower before her knees hit the glovebox.

'It's stupid. They'd never pick me when I've no experience.'

'That's what internships are for, to get experience.' I swallow my ramble; I've already said it all before. I'll just suffocate her. Instead, I take a chipper tone: 'If they don't pick ya, they don't pick ya. But no harm in applying, innit.'

I dare a glance at Joe to find her smiling and my insides tickle with the flowers that burst into bloom from the sight.

I can't do this. Caleb is right, Allan is right, Rishi is right they're all right. I'm not built for casual.

Should I ask her out? I've never been scared of rejection before—I've always been too comfortable asking people out when they're clearly out of my league. There's almost a reward in the refusal. If she says no, she says no. But no harm in asking, right?

Notes

FTM: Female to Male. A trans person who was assigned female at birth and has transitioned towards a masculine presentation and/or biology.

TransTape: Tape that is used for chest binding, usually worn by people with breasts who want to appear more masculine. It's similar to sports tapes so you can leave it on for a few days at a time.

Packers: A variety of products that gives the illusion of having a penis for someone who doesn't. Can be anything from a bulk of fabric you wear in your underwear to an STP (stand-to-pee, a realistic penis with a 'urethra' that someone with female genitals can use to, as the same suggests, stand to pee).

ARVs: Antiretroviral medication for HIV. Slows down HIV replication in the body, thus making it largely benign and reduces the risk of transmission.

Zeros across the board: Reference to scoring in ballroom culture. The phrase "tens, tens, tens across the board" was popularised by the documentary Paris is Burning and later by RuPaul's Drag Race, meaning that all judges have scored a contestant the highest points. In reality, there's no such thing as zeros across the board because in most modern ballroom, you get a ten or you get cut. There might be scores from 7-10, but it really doesn't matter because you can't win without getting your tens. I've seen people say that there used to be a full 1-10 score in the 90s but it was too much maths 🤣