July 18, 2006

I bought the shirt by accident. It was on sale for $2 in the frozen food section of the local grocery market, and because I’m unable to resist cheap I bought it. Right outside the store I threw the shirt over my head to discover that it fit perfectly everywhere except for my chest where scrunched up material seemed to leave room for something extra.

“Does this look like a woman’s shirt?” I asked Laura when I met her. She nodded and laughed.

“It would go great with a set of breasts,” she said.

“Maybe I’ll grow some,” I said, and continued to wear the shirt spitefully.

And because that wasn’t enough, next day I stole her pants to wear my new shirt as we were about to head to town. Her summer shorts were comfortable, white, and, well, kinda short.

“Are you wearing all women’s clothes now?”

“Of course not. The underwear are definitely my own. And definitely manly.”

We walked downtown. I held her hand and secretly enjoyed the feeling of her pants — they fit better than any of my own pairs. Summer shorts for men tend to be either gargantuan in size or distinctly uncomfortable. I started looking for ways to get into more of her clothes.

“If we move in together,” I said cunningly, “We should just merge our wardrobe!”

She laughed and squeezed my hand in that perfect way that just makes me die. I squeezed her hand back and pretty soon that sweaty space between our palms was making a happy farting noise as we walked through busy streets.