I'm doing this for a couple of reasons. First, I'm secure in my masculinity. I know that just because I go to this costume party with my sister looking like this, doesn't make me any less of a man. I know who I am. Even the short shorts and the fake breasts and the long, braided hair and perfect makeup can't tell me otherwise. Even if I don't recognize myself in the mirror tonight, I still know who I am. This doesn't change any of that. Tomorrow, it will be right back to picking up chicks and watching football and everything else. No problem.
Second, my sister is really pretty awesome and I owe her a lot. Yeah, she sort of tricked me by saying we would be dressing up as Pokemon characters, but it's mostly my fault for just ASSUMING that she would dress me up as a male character. Like I said though, no problem. We are gonna kill it tonight, win this little contest and impress everyone at school. It will be an amazing promo for my sister's new business. If she can make me look this good, imagine what she can do for real girls!
So, like I said, I don't mind. Everyone here knows who I am, and so do I. It is a little disconcerting that so many of these dudes are hitting on me. Shouldn't they know who I am? I don't even know how to respond. I just small, blush, say "Thanks," and move to a different part of the party. No matter where I move though, they always manage to find me. Do I really look that good? I mean, I said it was amazing what my sister can do, but still...I thought people would still be able to tell I'm a boy.
"Can you tell them who I am?" I ask my sister halfway through the night. "It's getting weird."
She looks at me, amused. "Tell them yourself."
I sigh. "Please, can you? I don't...I don't know how to handle this. I've never been hit on by guys."
"What's the problem? I thought you were comfortable in who you are? This is a costume party. Just tell them who you are and they'll back off. No problem."
Clearly, my sister isn't going to be much help. Why can't she just tell then? This was her idea, after all. I don't want her to think I'm having second thoughts though, or that I'm not as comfortable with all of this as I said I was.
Things really heat up though when this guy grabs my ass. These booty shorts my sister has me on make it pop, sure, but come on dude. I jump and squeal like a fucking girl. I spin around to confront this dude, and find myself looking up, up, way up at the tallest, buffest dude I've ever seen. I try to look angry, but he just laughs.
"What are you gonna do, short stuff?"
I glare at him a moment longer but...well, what can I do? I'm no short dude, but this guy has to be a seven footer easy. I would stand no chance. And made up like this? I tell you, if anything ever made me feel like a weak, little girl, it was staring up at this guy.
"Just don't do it again."
He laughs and walks off, only to return a few minutes later with some punch. He hands the glass that looked small in his hands to me, where it looks gigantic. Like, there's no way I can drink all this. Dressed like this, I was hoping to stay mostly sober. Not gonna happen if I drink this thing. He stands by me though, so I take a few sips and smile.
"So, you go to school here, huh? I don't remember you around."
I FUCKING GIGGLE. Seriously? This is why I wanted to avoid alcohol. "Yeah, well, it IS a costume party."
He laughs, this deep rumble of a laugh, and I take another swallow of the spiked punch. Fuck, this night is turning into a total disaster.
"I think I would have noticed a fucking hottie like you around campus though."
I blush, which only makes him laugh.
"I like short, little girls like you."
I'm outraged. I'm fucking 5'8"! Short for a dude, maybe, but not THAT short. "I am not short!" To my horror, my hands are on my hips while I say this. It probably looks more cute to him than anything. He chuckles and I cringe internally. I can't tell anymore if the flush in my cheeks is from the booze or this charming guy. What? I can admit it when another guy is charming.
"What's your name, cutie?"
I stammer and struggle and take another sip of punch to hide my consternation. Finally, after drinking way too much punch in the longest swig ever, I manage to stammer out an answer. "I'm Steph." My name is Stephen, so I figure Steph is suitably gender neutral. Plus, Stef Curry can do it, so why can't I?
"That short for Stephanie?"
I just smile and sip some more punch.
"Well, Stephanie, I'm Damien. Nice to meet you."
He holds out his big, meaty paw for a shake. I take it, and my hand seems a dainty little thing in comparison. "Nice to meet you too," I say. Seriously, this is getting WAY out of control. Something is seriously, seriously wrong with me.
I spend the rest of the night with Damien. He brings me like, a bunch more punch. In my drunken haze, I giggle at all of his jokes, blush when he says nice things and generally hang all over him like a drunk sorority girl. Finally, my sister and I get called up to the stage where we're judged on our costumes. I can't even see straight by that point. I have no idea what's going on. I've drank more tonight than I have in like, my entire life. I'm just going where people direct me at this point. I don't know if we win or get last or what happens. In fact, the last thing I fully remember is downing a shot of tequila while Damien stands grinning at me. I think the rest of the basketball team is there. Maybe. Other people are around, anyway, but I don't know who they are. I'm too drunk. Like, WAY too drunk.
All I know is, when I wake up in the morning, something is wrong. Like, really, really, really, outrageously wrong.