Call me Hurricane: A Semi-true and Fucked up Story

Chapter 2: You didn't answer the question...

Well Fuck I know I spent that whole last chapter painting you the picture of jail and what it was like for me but never answered the question on why I was there. I called it the million dollar question. It is the million dollar question, that at the time of this written telling I have not yet been convicted of, so instead of telling you what I did do lets go into the events that lead up to my time in jail. I will also cover some of the insane rumors and we can play a game of what if I WAS in jail for that.

This story begins about 10 months prior to my vacation in southern New Mexico adult time out, when I met Evan. My relationship with Evan only came about because of a failing relationship with a mature eccentric slightly older man named Kyle. Kyle and I had been together about a year we had lost a baby, been through a cervical cancer scare and this led to me coping badly by drowning my demons in prescription drugs and at the very bottom of several beer bottles. I held a full time job but was pretty much a walking disaster, and the nickname hurricane was born. Kyle would say it as mean as he could to make sure I knew how much he hated my shitty irresponsible behavior. By the time I met Evan, I was done. Kyle was sure as hell done.

Evan was a potato shaped man who stood at the same height as me, he began working at the tech firm I worked at keeping an eye on the minions on the night shift. He was one of our newest minions and at first glance he appeared to shuffle around in his baggy pants, over sized t-shirts and flip flops like a zombie entering day light after playing video games in his mom's basement. I would get bored and wonder over to the training classes and raise hell with the instructors. After work I would hang around and make conversation waiting for beer sales to start and to avoid going home, that's how Evan and I began our friendship, which led to the worst romantic relationship of my life.

Now I am not saying I didn't fall in love with Evan because I did hopelessly in love but as I have learned, a great friendship can go to a fast love to a pile of steaming corn filled shit rather quickly. We spent the early part of getting to know one another at a local diner in the parking lot of the Tech firm we worked for, we would run off and hide from all the people we didn't want to talk to and keep all the conversation to ourselves. We didn't discuss anything to deep he would complain about his failed six year marriage, and I would complain about my overbearing old man back home. We would make empty sugar packet mountains on the tables and when we go home we would drunk text one another pointless pictures and viral videos.

Everything with Evan went well, and our friendship grew with a strong trust. One day he walked me out to my car after our normal antics and told me something about himself I knew and had never heard of before. Evan was born intersex and raised Sarah by his mother and father. Now the first thought in my head was I wonder what his penis looks like, does he still have a vagina. And being as these are not things that would affect our relationship I did not ask. Instead I went home and began the longest darkest internet search into the world of intersex politics, transsexuals and gender transition surgery of my life.

As much of a Tom boy as I am the search history on that forgotten computer could give a lot of people the wrong Idea.