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We meet for lunch, we’re both in work clothes and Beth has that Portland/bike commuter/nerdy/down-to-earth/gorgeous thing going on. Our lunch date was enlightening, we chatted about various things that we’ve been up to and Beth mentioned Whitney and Claire really being into the upcoming WNBR event. It’s Saturday, day of the event and I show up at Beth’s place with bike and small backpack, that’s all. It’s late afternoon, there’s already a few friends there and Claire. She’s adorable, end of story Willowy, dark eyes, a bit mysterious but friendly beneath it all. We chat and I tell her I barely recognize her from the sauna a couple weeks back. “yea, I look different naked I guess”, she says glibly. “you look better naked yourself”. I think I like her already. Claire had run done a 20 mile training run that morning and was a bit spent in her words. Not surprisingly, Claire asked about the prior week and my shenanigans with Whitney and Beth. I explained that I had exhibitionist. Grabbing only open air, I panicked before realizing that the body switch had not been a bad dream. I put the seat back down and sat to pee. God, how humiliating that I had been reduced to this. Me, Peter Alan Hotaling, star quarterback of my college team, the guy that had been on a one-man quest to win the heart, or at least the pussy, of every woman in New York City. Now I was one of them. A woman.I finished peeing and stood to wash my hands and face, looking closely at the face that stared back at me from the mirror. This was only the second day. How was I going to last for another 363 more. I decided then and there that if I spent every day feeling sorry for myself, I would either go crazy, or commit suicide before the year was up. So I determined that I would accept my fate and move on. I brushed my teeth to get the awful taste from my mouth, and then I showered, and shampooed my hair. I saw that stubble was appearing on my legs, so I shaved them and my armpits. Feeling much.
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