I step out of my friends house at like 1:45am fucked outta my mind. By most peoples standards i am lightly buzzed. Capital-I Intoxicated. But im a lightweight so three rum and cokes and a few hits of weed is enough to scratch the itch in my brain that makes me wanna recreate fear and loathing in las vegas. I was screaming at my friend about covalent bonds and how its literally impossible for life to not depend on carbon because shit like silicon, which is in the same collumn of the periodic table as carbon but a row down, is way heavier and SO2 is like sand or something. so instead of exhaling carbon dioxide, a gas, they would be shitting out sand. like constantly. we went back and forth for a while until eventually speaking coherently became too much of an effort.

Im waiting for my uber back to my house. god bless the MBTA for closing at 1. dead boring godless city. the uber guys name, according to my phone is Guuber. in our dead-boring-godless city, there's people of all creeds and its important for me to not follow in my mothers footsteps and laugh at every foreign name presented to me. but still the guy's name is goober. it would be wrong of me to not find that funny. at the very least, i keep the joke to myself

my uber arrives. its a black car. i've never been one to pay attention to car models, tho i think it would be cool to get into that. but ceratinly at this moment, where if i stand still for too long all thoughts cease, im not gonna start. i don't even check to make sure its the right car. theres no other cars in the backroads of roslindale with their flashers on at 2 in the morning. its definitely the guy.

I step into the car to meet this guuber and he's white as fuck thank god im not racist. I can't really see shit in the dark but he's got a glow to him. a neatly trimmed beard, the sick fuck.

We have our back and forth, i say hi he asks if i'm my deadname and i say yes, its a relief to be a tomboy sometimes. his accent is french. i feel vindicated for laughing at his name. he makes light conversation but at this point im so inebriated that in the few seconds between telling him my name and him asking if im on my way to work, im a goner. i stutter out a quiet no and the conversation stillborns. my american contempt for europeans is replaced with a more globalist shame. i've been bitching to all my friends since january that its important that we talk to strangers. that we are not just observers to the social machine but actively a part of it. yet here i am watching myself remove myself from the conversation. I think of things to say. casual things. things that will let this guy know im not actually a stupid tranny crossed off her rocker but a regualr old John/Jane Doe. "how are you doing today?" "any strange characters you see tonight?" "any good football lately?" "who really are you?"

Jesus im high, what the fuck am i thinking saying that to a random guy?! I decide against it. I leave myself alone for long enough to feel that surge of libidinal energy shoot to my crotch that always happens whenever i get intoxicated. im breathing heavy under my mask but im quiet i think. I imagine a girl next to me teasing me about how im a stupid puppy who got too high for her own good. In this fantasy she calls me "pumpkin" and scratches my head until i drool. I also have 30 pounds of pure subcutaneous, non-diabetic, fat added to my body in this scenario. not necesarilly all in my tits or butt either, but distributed evenly across the board. i've come to terms with having small little pyramidal boobies after seeing a picture of a beautiful woman with b-cups in a bralette. maybe i should drink a glass of milk when i get home.

We stop to a red light by forest hills. its a long light and eventually i stop thinking about this beautiful maternal but not necessarily older woman sitting next to me and i wander elsewhere. i wanna go on my phone so bad but again, the being a part of the social machine thing. even if i can't talk, being here is enough i tell myself

I wanna do the wordle. its 2 am so it definitely updated but im so fucking pissed about yesterdays wordle. ARRAY. ARRAY are you fucking kidding me!? two double letters and a Y its literally not even my fault i didn't get that! I always start with LOUIE, thats what a girl who was out of my league showed me when the game first got popular cause it bangs out most of the vowels. then i always play GRAPH cause you bang out the A as well as four solid ass letters. like whether or not theres an H in the word is huge information. then if that doesn't reveal enough (which it didn't in the case of ARRAY) i play DASHY. by that point i had all three letters. and maybe i should have figured it out by that point using basic logic. but those sick disgusting monsters at the New York Times really ought to have someone push em around a bit just on principle for using two fucking double letters and a Y for their five letter word game!!!

someone in the drivers seat mumbles 'mother fucker' to themselves. guuber's car has stalled out at this red light. i don't really know if i should say anything or not so i just stare directly into his eyes from the rearview mirror. he tries to start the car like three times and after each time he keeps looking back at me through the mirror. someone behind us honks. oh sweet jesus! im taken back to being a little kid watching my parents argue. i wish someone was callimg me pumpkin right now! the car starts back up and he kinda punches the gas as he makes the left turn, tapping his thumb on the steering wheel slowly. yeah this is just like being a kid wow.

i turn my head to face the window. I want to stare longingly out it like in the movies. im a little embarrassed that at this moment the only movie i can think of where a guy does that is Joker. I don't want to be like the Joker. I wanna be like in the movies but not that one. As i turn my head i catch a whiff of myself. i stink so bad! i didn't really wear this shirt until later in the day but i get smelly pretty easily. my BO smells like a mcdonalds cheeseburger with onions. Personally i think it smells pretty good and i hope whoever i date enjoys it cause i think its nice! but shit man i hope guuber can't smell it! one time in highschool i smelled like shit for three days i don't even know why it happened i shower and wear deoderant but it was a three foot radius of what smelled like dog breath. im so scared that it will happen again.

I hope guuber doesn't hate me. i laugh at his name, i don't talk with him, and i stare at him through his own damn rearview mirror like some kind of asshole! does he know that im trans? is this uber ride going to affect whether or not he donates to the LGB coalition? its all about the optics god DAMNIT why wasn't i thinking about the optics???? did he hear me whimpering imagining being doted on by a beautiful woman? does he know i want to get really fat and that i smell like shit!?

He just barely runs a red light at an empty intersection and a noise comes out of me. one that nearly says "whoops". but i catch myself and it comes out more like a "whhhmm" and i just have to act like it was nothing. he's looking at me in the mirror. im going to hell! the guy is driving my stupid crossed tranny ass to my house and im making almost snarky-remark noises in his backseat the optics are terrible. he pulls into my street thank god. i feel like im at the end of a rollercoaster. the slow stop to the curb. family is waiting at the end of the coaster track and i walk up to them with my eyes wet and tell them never make me do this again and from that point decide that the carnival sucks. it does suck by the way. but im old enough now to carry this shame from this uber ride and not make a big stink about it.

I push out an "uhhh thank you" and make sure i have all my belongings as i open the door. i close it but i push the door too lightly it doesn't close all the way. guuber begins to pull out and i run back and grab the door making him stop and close it shut. i smile and wave to him as i walk away and he waves back blank faced. dear lord.

I quickly pull out my phone

TIP: [CUSTOM AMOUNT] $9

STARS: 5/5

COMMENTS: "o live yoi"



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