FBF

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours"

You should not feel bad. I started it. I just wanted to know what all the fuss was about. I knew my father had expected me to be born a boy. I should have been a boy. At the age of six it seemed so simple. I would become a boy. First step was seeing what you had that I didn't.

We locked ourselves in your family's bathroom and I went first. I pulled down my shorts, sat on the toilet - and peed. You watched. Your turn - you opened your zipper, faced the toilet - and peed standing up. I was instantly jealous. You showed me you had a little flesh hose you shot pee out of. What happened to my hose? Did my parents have it removed? Would I grow one? Was this what was so wonderful about being a boy?

I taught myself to pee standing up.
I climbed every tree I could find.
I dug in the dirt.
I collected bugs and snakes and lizards.
I jumped off everything.
But I could not grow a flesh hose no matter how much I wanted one.

My parents and your's called you a "book worm." Ridiculous! I read more books than you! They called me "tom boy." Who was Tom and what did he have to do with my wanting to be a boy? I was supposed to be named Paul. That was the name my parents had decided on if I was a boy. Why wasn't I named Paula?

In the sticky Kansas summers, all our moms would push us outside telling us to, "go play." Your house was always my first stop. You were my friend and a boy, but not my boyfriend. I was much more interested in the pretty girl that lived behind your house. You could not understand why I was interested in her. I guess I wasn't sure either. As a boy, I thought you'd think she was pretty.

I was devastated when I was not invited to her birthday party. You were."Go play" put me outside that day with no one to play with and too much free time. I snuck through your yard to spy on the party. She was wearing the most beautiful white dress I had ever seen. Her hair was all pins and curls with ribbons. Her shoes were shiny with buckles. There was a cake on the table and piles of presents. I was jealous of her and you and everyone at that party for getting to eat that cake.

She saw me in my dirty play clothes hiding in the bushes. She sent a group of boys after me. As a kid I told my mother they took off their belts to hit me, but I'm sure they just chased me. And threw rocks. I thought my mom would be proud I'd gotten away from them, but she was angry. I'd embarrassed her. "Debbie, tell me why you were spying on girl and her party?" I knew girls were not supposed to like girls. And like it or not, I was a girl.

You never told my secrets.
You never acted like I was a freak.
You were my first best friend.