Ashley Lazlo

Feigning continuing sleep I watched through slitted eyelids as a naked Monica slid out from under the duvet and began rummaging in my dresser. She selected a pair of my boxers and a worn tee and took them with her, I heard the shower running. She was wearing my boxers and tee when I followed the smell of coffee to the living room. “Shower first” Monica said as she noticed me, I liked that bossiness, I took it as a sign that she thought of me as hers after just one night together.  Monica was my first, not only my first girlfriend but the first girl I had kissed as well. Her wearing my clothes seemed strange, none of my friends mentioned their girlfriends wearing mens clothes and at 22 I was not going to reveal my inexperience by asking. Monica was the opposite of me, she had sisters, brothers and several cast aside boyfriends, plus she was way more streetwise than me. I reasoned as she so casually helped herself to my underwear it must be what girlfriends did. We alternated, one we...

Monicas voice came down the line “describe yourself to me…”  I searched my head for an acceptable response. Two words bounced around in there as if challenging my lips to set them free, both words knew they did not qualify as a response. Crossdresser - that is not enough Transgender - that is too much I should write to the government - they really should invent a well known word that would sum up people like me, I mean with over a million men on the planet indgandine theory proves I would not be the only one. Before I get sidetracked by indgandine theory let me tell you how I arrived at Monicas question. ———//——— I saw him at a party, his clothes looked more feminine than any woman at the party, a vicar was talking to him as they walked from the bar. He looked uncomfortable, embarrassed, and as if he wished the ground would open up and swallow him - a perfect research subject for The Hormone Project. My take on the scene that lay before me was; she had chosen to dress as a vicar an...