Warming Up

I called Emily the moment I got her, "Of course I'm still up, it's only 9 pm lmao. Call me whenever babe" text. The rapid beats of my heart began to slow down to a sustainable pace once I heard her smile through the phone, "So, I'm assuming your date with Ruthie went well if you're up past your bedtime like this. I was expecting your call 2 whole hours ago. Tell me all about it! Please!"

"You know what they say about assumptions, how do you know she didn't kidnap me and it took me two hours to break free and steal my phone back?" I asked even though her assumption was completely correct.

"Come on. In what universe would you ever have the spoons to break out of captivity? This is why you need to be careful and not get in strangers' cars, because I'm pretty sure if someone tried to kill you they would simply succeed. Now stop the stalling and give me the juicy details. How was your little park date, My One Pru Love?"

I blushed with an intensity that made a little voice inside me fear that it would make my phone overheat and explode, "It was so good and I hate it so much. I was so nervous that I'm too traumatized to be able to connect with anyone new ever again but it was so easy to talk to her. She had so much to say about the social dynamics in this fucking town that not only made me feel seen but gave me more to think about.I might now be one of the few trans women in this area, but that's a fairly recent development. She's been one of the few brown people here for almost her entire life. There's some overlap, sure, but it is also so different. Anyway, she's so thoughtful and hilarious that we completely lost track of time. I feel full of this excitement that I didn't think I was still capable of, but with that comes dread..Dread for the moment she really learns who I am and no longer wants nothing to do with me."

Emily's eyes rolling could practically be heard through the phone, "Take a deep breath, babe. You don't know what is going to happen, I can't say that won't happen because who knows. I don't know and you don't either, no matter what all your internal alarm bells are screaming at you. It makes sense for you to have the anxiety for sure, but you haven't even kissed this woman yet and you are already sure that someone you just described as thoughtful is going to abandon you in some cruel way. Knowing your life, it makes sense that you feel that way, but I don't really think getting caught in the what if weeds is going to do you any favors."

I cackled, "Yeah, yeah. That makes sense, but who said we didn't kiss?"

"Oh my God! Fucking get it girl, you've been needing this. How was it?"

My phone started to slip down my sweaty palm, "Oh, it was so fucking cute. She was telling me about how she will always have a place in her heart for the park because it is where she first kissed another girl after school like 15 years ago. I saw my opportunity, but the words were so hard to get out that it felt like I was lost in hours of silence when it was probably like 20 seconds. I took a deep breath and just went for it, 'That's so adorable and who knows, maybe you'll have your next gay kiss here too.' She looked at me with enviable confidence and said, 'Oh, I'm planning on it. As long as you agree to it, of course.' And like no shit I agreed, I'm the one who brought it up, and we kissed. We pulled back, smiled at each other, and kissed some more until my ride pulled in the parking lot. It was so good, I just want to cherish the moment but I can't help being scared. Like what is next?"

"Probably kissing with tongue, which is way better than whatever weird nightmare is going through the back of your head right now."

I appreciated Emily's generosity, assuming that the nightmares are in the back of my head, rather than top of mind. "Less back of my head, and more scarred all over my arm. It may be a cool, long-sleeved, spring right now but the weather is so erratic these days. What if it is 95 next week? Too hot for my security hoodie. Oh, fuck. What if it is so hot that she wants to go swimming at the public pool and my tuck comes undone and then I get hate-crimed, and then she becomes so afraid that she will be hate-crimed too that she betrays me and starts beating on me too?"

If Emily's patience was thinning she didn't display it in any way, "Hmmm, well it is April and the pool isn't open so you are going to have to find somewhere else for her to give you a spanking. But seriously Pru, I just want you to remember that you aren't the only person in the world who has ever cut and/or burned herself, other people have figured this out, you can too. Like why would they bother to write love on her arms if they think she doesn't even deserve it?"

I sighed, "Because it is easier to convince an emotionally vulnerable person to accept Jesus Christ as her savior, but your points are fair regardless. Thanks for letting me call you, my sleep meds are starting to kick in, so I'm going to check the weather for next weekend and pass out. I can tell you more about her and the date when we have our virtual date this week. Goodnight, I love you."

"I love you too, Prudence. Goodnight."

*

It was, in fact, warm when the next weekend arrived, but not unseasonably hot like I predicted. I sat in my parents' driveway waiting for Ruthie to pick me up, anxiously tracing the scars revealed by my short sleeve dress with my right index finger. I spent most of the week trying to decide how to address this part of me to my new crush, but failed to come to any conclusions. Something about not saying anything and seeing if she does feels manipulative to me despite my therapist and 3 separate friends assuring me it would not. Bringing it up didn't feel right either. Is telling your crush that you sometimes burn yourself when your PTSD symptoms feel unmanageable trauma dumping? Fuck, was having my scars visible at all trauma dumping?

"Hey there, Prudie the Cutie."

I jumped out of my skin and chair simultaneously, "Holy shit! Where did you even come from, Ruthie?" As my shock started to wear off, I looked at the beautiful woman standing before me. At 5 feet and 3 inches, Ruthit was a full foot shorter than me but had long black hair in two braids that seemed as long as my tall girl legs. She was wearing a pink tank top with a black zip up hoodie on top, with a short black skirt with bike shorts just barely peeking underneath. My fright at her cute greeting seemed to catch her off guard, but her eyes seemed full of warmth.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to scare you. I just pulled up and figured you saw me because you were facing towards me."

"It's okay, it happens all the time and seems basically impossible to completely avoid. I guess I was lost in thought. Let's go, I want to see you skate!"

*

"Oh thank God," I said as we pulled up next to the skatepark, "No one else is here. All the mean skateboard boys calling me a faggot really pushed me away from skating for years, until right before I became chronically ill. I'm glad we don't have to deal with the mean skateboard children today."

Ruthie replied with a devilish smile, "It would be okay even if they were here. I got my knife and this bitch knows how to use it. I won't stab a child but if their scumbag dads come for you, I simply will not hesitate."

I laughed with a warm comfort in my chest, "Fuck, it's so hot when you promise to stab someone for me but then clarify that you won't stab a child. You are so thoughtful and considerate of others. Truly heartwarming."

Ruthie winked at me, "If you think that's hot, just wait until you see me land my first ever kickflip."

"Fuck me up."

As Ruthie jumped up and down for an hour, I simply watched her, cheered her on both when she almost nailed it and when she fell hard onto the pavement. I started skating just a few years ago but became disabled just months later, forcing me to stop before I even learned how to ollie. I've been curious about skateboarding for as long as I can remember, so it is hard not to be resentful of all the reasons it took me so long to get on a board. Watching Ruthie made all that resentment wash away. She embodied everything that I thought was cool about the sport. She might not yet be able to do super impressive tricks or lines, but the creativity still shone through as she found different wants to practice the trick, in the grass, with her hands hanging onto a fence, etc. Even better was her perseverance, she made hundreds of mistakes and she seemed to learn from them all. She also started to learn how to skate in her late 20s, just as she was old enough for it to be just a bit harder to use her body and brain in new ways. The fact that she could ollie was enough to blow my mind, as I never could figure out the weird magic trick of bringing the board up into the air with the side of my sneaker.

Ruthie glistened with sweat in the springtime sun as she tried and failed over and over again. Until she stopped failing. In a moment that at first felt no different than the others, Ruthie jumped up, flipped the board completely, and landed with both feet on the board.

I ran up to her in excitement, "Holy shit. I'm so proud of you! You're the kickflip bitch!"

"You fucking bet I'm the kickflip bitch!" She said with a laughing smile.

"Does the kickflip bitch want a kickflip kiss?"

She pondered for a moment, "Well, you corny ass bitch, does that mean a kiss while I'm doing a kickflip? Because I think if we tried that right now you would probably need emergency bottom surgery. So no."

"You know, if the price I need to pay to get a vagina is a traumatic injury to my dick and balls, so be it."

Ruthie looked like she was shocked to hear someone say that out loud, laughing through her confusion. "But if you actually mean a kiss with the kickflip bitch then, yes I would love that.

I embraced Ruthie in my arms, sticking slightly to her sweat. I leaned down to kiss her, closing my eyes to focus on feeling her lips against mine. I gently slipped my tongue into her mouth and I smiled when I tasted the marathon of hi-chews she ate on her little breaks. I felt so comfortable in her embrace, and full of energy from seeing her land that trick.

"Do you wanna sit?" I asked while heading back to my bench. She answered by following me. As we sat, I started to talk, "So. There's something I want to talk about. It's super vulnerable, are you ready? Sorry if this is sudden, but it was just on my mind and I got caught up in the excitement in a weird way that I'll be unpacking in therapy this week."

She was still adjusting to the change in tone but looked at me with such a genuine curiosity that made me feel so adored. Since transitioning, a lot of people in my life no longer want to know about me. They just assume my life is some series of transsexual horrors that they don't want to know about. They're not even wrong, there are plenty of horrors, but I also have a life outside of those horrors. Her curiosity told me that she desired to see me in the entirety of my being. Beyond just what didn't make her feel discomforted.

I ripped off the band-aid, "I don't know if you noticed, but one of my arms is covered in scars and some of them are honestly kind of gnarly. I just feel so self conscious about them and what other people could be thinking about them. I'm afraid that people aren't going to want to know someone who so frequently has to grasp onto life so desperately. I just want to bring up now because if it is a deal breaker for you, then might as do it before getting too attached. I won't hate you forever or anything, I understand that people have all sorts of reasons for not wanting to be around it. Or even just be frequently reminded of it."

Ruthie took in all the information and held it with her for a long moment, "It's not a red flag for me, necessarily. I do want you to be safe, that can be pretty dangerous, you know? What am I saying? Of course you know."

"I sure do know. I know it's dangerous and I take precautions. The more intense scars are from when I wasn't using any ointment or anything. A psych hospital yelled at me for it and now the newer scars are a lot more faint. I can't promise that it won't ever happen again, and I think that's what makes me so anxious about it. It makes sense that people can be so upset by it, but it is also upsetting for me. I deserve space to talk about it. I will not be doing it in front of you or as a threat to manipulate you. Someone did that shit to me and I'm not trying to pass it on. Fuck, this is probably becoming too much already. I don't think I'm done talking, but I do need a break. I'm a mess!"

Ruthie takes a pause, but somehow my brain knows not to take this as a threat. Something about the look in her eyes lets me know that she is giving me space to ground myself before she responds. "I'm not going to pretend that this is what I normally expect from a second date. But it makes sense to me that you would want to get it out of the way. Correct me if I"m wrong, please, but I imagine being honest about this part of you is an important step of feeling safer with me. It's clear you've seen some shit and I think you deserve a sense of safety, because every person deserves it and it is an important part of any relationship, regardless of what our relationship may or not be. We're still figuring it out and this seems like an important step in doing so. I'm really glad you feel safe enough to tell me this."

I let out a huge sigh, the tension rushing quickly out of my body. I take a few deep breaths before I respond, "You're spot on, honestly. I'm enjoying getting to know you and I need to be able to ground myself to be fully present with you. While the real or imaginary pressure to 'come out' is upsetting, it's still a vital step in being able to feel truly grounded."

"Truly," She said, with a comforting smile.

This hurdle that I was so afraid of has been overcome, opening up the possibility of this new relationship in a new way. For now, I was just happy to be here, to laugh in the grass, holding hands as we talked about whatever nonsense we've had to deal with since we last saw each other.

*

It was another week until we saw each other again, this time we were at her house celebrating a celebrated tradition: smoking weed and watching movies. We scrolled through her harddrive of movies she got from a friend.

"I honestly have no idea what is on this," she clarified, "I asked Claire to get me 'into movies' and I plugged it in once and I saw like 70 titles and my brain melted down."

"I got you, I am well versed in this activity. I don't know what this one is though, Love and Leashes? Is this dog porn? Is that what counts as cinema these days?"

Ruthie laughed at me, "I doubt it's dog porn, but honestly you got me curious. Would you be okay if we turned it on and if it's dog porn we can turn it off?"

I agreed, and we were delighted to learn that it was not dog porn. I was also relieved to learn that it was not human porn either, due to my strict rule to ghost anyone who shows me human porn before we post any pics of us together online. Instead the film was a BDSM 101 rom com where a romance blossoms between a dom and a sub. As we watched the film, I thought it would be a funny bit to say "Would." or "Nope". Kink at work? Nope. Bark like a dog at a love hotel so loud that other guests complain? Maybe, but it would be more about causing terror rather than anything sexual. The woman dripping hot wax on the man's back?

"Would. Holy fucking shit, would." I let myself enjoy the brief scene before continuing, "That's it? Fuck, someone should make a spin off or whatever called Waxing and Waning where a couple starts to fall out of love, but then they uh rekindle their love through pouring hot wax on each other."

Ruthie struggled to contain her giggles, "Girl, how high are you right now? Planning fucking movie franchises because this rom com just unlocked something in you."

I looked her dead in the eye, "I'm very fucking high right now, but don't let that fool you. I am very serious."

She locked eyes with me, a grin piercing through an attempt at stoicism, "You're serious, huh? Does that mean that this is something you want to try?"

Warm blood rushed into my cheeks as I searched for words.

Ruthie continued before I could respond, "Because I would be willing to try that with you. Oh fuck you are so cute, your face is so hot it could a light candle. And who knows what we'll do with that candle after that."

I started to pace my breath, "Yeah. I would like to try that. You know, with what I told you last weekend, it really changed my relationship to pain. It's something that I picked up when I was desperate for release, but then it started to feel good in a weird way. I would like to hurt myself less, but I don't think that should mean I should toss out the parts of me it helped me find. This could be a good way to explore that. If it ends up being too triggering then we can stop."

Ruthie nodded, "We sure can. That's what I was thinking too. You do what you do because you get something out of it, maybe there is a way to get a version of the benefit without all the baggage attached to self harming."

"Yeah, then I think we should do it. Not like right now, I'm very high. And like if you change your mind that is fine too. But for now, we can pencil it in. Where does this even fall in sex baseball?"

Ruthie scratched her chin in an exaggerated ponder, "I have no clue, but it is probably somewhere after making out?"

I smiled with a silent laugh, "Well, I guess we'll have to find where our stoned asses put the frigging remote. It is important to me that we pause the movie, if we keep it playing we might miss out on more fun ideas." As Ruthie agreed with me, I stood up and the remote fell out of my lap and onto the floor.

Ruthie smiled at me, "Well, now that's done. So how about you climb on to my lap so we can begin our journey up to Mount Wax Play?"

I nodded enthusiastically as I put my knees to each side of her, bringing myself down to eye level. We took each other in for a moment. I notice her dark eyes filled with anticipation, I watch the parting of her lips, before I close my eyes and meet them with my own. I melt when I breathe in her heat. I feel her tongue gently enter my mouth and I wrap myself around her. Time passed in a way I cannot keep track of, as I got lost in feeling this intimate connection.

A moment comes where our bodily needs overpower our overflowing desire for each other. We look at the time and exhaustion hits me all at once. "Is it cool if I sleep here? It is way past my bedtime. It's totally cool if not! I know we didn't talk about it before and I didn't bring any of my things. So either way."

Ruthie finishes her drink of water, "Oh, of course you can stay here. I have a queen sized bed. And couch if you would prefer that, but you are definitely welcome in my bed. I unfortunately can't help you with the meds you're going to miss, but I can let you borrow my ex's basketball shorts that he will never get back."

"Bed sounds great to me. Honestly honored to wear your ex's shorts. One time an ex of mine stole a hoodie from their ex, and then I ended up with it when we broke up, and now Emily has it, keeping the chain going. Maybe, we can get another chain together. I just think it's so cool to think about how we are all connected, the ways people who never even met can end up sharing a single piece of clothing."

Ruthie tossed me the shorts while asking, "Are you still high?"

I laughed, "Just a little bit. But you have to admit, I have a point."

"Yeah, sure that's a fun thought."

We continued to talk and laugh while getting ready for bed and then cuddled up together in the dark, her bedtime playlist cradling us to sleep.

*

A few days later, I arrived back at Ruthie's house. I scrolled through movies on the hard drive as Ruthie was grabbing something from her room. It was a little notebook with a floral pattern that she opened to reveal a couple pages of notes, "So this is my wax play research."