My name is Bill, not short of William, just Bill. I always wondered why is Bill short of William? Isn’t Will obviously a better nickname? Just, I have JUST been Bill, the damn JUST was the best description of me. Notice the “was”…
I found myself a great hobby: Lying. My life started to become average, and I hate that feeling, of just walking among the people, just being one of them, nothing about me to lift me up to the sky for all to see me naked. Nothing perverted I just hate being considered average by the only person whose opinion I respect: me. So I decided to meet people, sometimes online sometimes I would just go out to one of those New York bars you see in the movies when the ramboish hero walks in and all look at him. But I didn’t want them to meet the painfully average me, Bill Mileow, I wanted them to meet who ever I wanted to be that day, night or heck sometimes even month. Let me start from the first lie I’ve done. Not said, but done!
It was another day at work, I am an accountant at a law firm. The most Jewish job ever, you say? Anti-Semitism is not my gig but I do have a lot of Hebrew colleagues so I learned quite a bit about them and their culture, religion etc. I sat down after the lunch break and decided to go to one of those sites for meeting new people. I decided to meet someone, a guy like me, in a friendly manner, nothing sexual, while pretending to be a Jew myself. Why? Well, I loved the idea of persuading someone that I am what I want to be at that moment, to create a whole new personality of me, not in a split personality manner but just ACTING. I’ll act to be this Jewish version of me with some experiences I will tell him, see him chatting with this perversion of me like it was an actual person not just an act. Hey, people do this for money. Some on stage some on set, I just want to do it everywhere for fun. I found someone called Mathew.
The evening came and Mathew and me meet at bar near his apartment. I noticed that my Hebrew colleagues wear the same clothing everyone else does so I wasn’t nervous if I’d be “hip enough” for this.
There he was dressed in a shirt and those ¾ pants you’d only see a Miami male teen in.
Mathew: Hey, um, Jon, right?
Me: Yes, Mathew, riiiight (with that annoying giggle) ?
Mathew: Yeah man, It’s nice to meet you live bro, I just…
Me: Thanks, you too, “bro” (with two fingers indexing the bro word, showing that I’m one of those overcompensating-trying-to-be-funny-in-the-small-talk people, like I found many Jews to be like).
Mathew: (smiles) Ha Ha bro I just had a hard time meeting people here, a different environment and everythin’ you know?
Me: So that’s why you used the site? We meet there man, don’t be embarrassed, come on, no need to explain anything. So where did you move from?
Mathew: Oh I just never done that before, always thought of it as lame. Oh I’m from Miami, you’re a local?
Me: (thinking: No shit you’re from Miami) Yap, just your average angry driver New Yorker. Forgot my cheesy Italian accent at home thou.
As we enter the bar we continue the chat.
Mathew: Oh you’re Italian?
Me: Naaah I’m a Jew, just like to imitate that De Niro like accent, you know?
Mathew: Ooooh, taxi driver?
Me: Yeah, ha ha.
So to skip the boring small talk, two of us really connected, drank a few beers and then came that part of the conversation when you say incredible experiences, the part I have been waiting for, since isn’t that what makes a person? His or hers life experiences and actions? I already acted like a Jewish version of me, how I imagine that would be like, which covers the actions part, now comes the experiences part. I wanted to improvise this, so after he told me about his meeting with a shark while surfing that, luckily for him, ended non-violently, I started my lie.
Me: So, I was 11 and it was my bar-mitzvah, man I wanted to impress this next door girl, the bitch wasn’t even Jewish and she came so I knew she liked me. So. I snuck my dad’s bottle of whiskey, ok? (Lowering my head while I say “okay” so it would seem like I’m a bit drunk) And we drank HALF of the bottle, she started to puke. And, it was in my room. She started to puke and I faint, man, ON THE FLOOR. My dad walks in on us and he says: (I gag my nose as I say it) Jon, I saved that whiskey for your wedding, you should have taken the vine. THAT WAS FOR YOUR BAR-MITZVAH. (As I laugh while saying the last word, I continue with my nose un-gagged) He didn’t even give a rats ass that I passed out and she was puking the damn thing all over my room.
He was laughing and by the look in his eyes I’ve seen that he has believed me, that he believed it was a genuine experience I had. As the night went on so did our conversation, the bar tab along with the empty bottles and so did my lies. All thou, if you think about it, it’s not much of a lie, is it? An experience we have lasts for a while but then it’s a memory. Someone might not believe you when you tell that memory to him or her even thou it wasn’t a lie, thus in a social manner, in the community you belong, it’s a lie as long as they believe you lied. But if it didn’t happen but they, him, her, it believe it did happen, even thou it didn’t, it makes the memory true even thou the event itself, the experience, isn’t true.
Mathew wrote down my number (the only thing that wasn’t a lie that evening) and signed me in as Jon. I felt successful about this, I pulled this acting rouse on him and it worked.
Man oh man, this is how I kill my dose of monotony so it wouldn’t get boring. It’s a perfectly good way to have fun. You’re not lying for money, so I’m not harming anyone and honestly then I’d just feel like one of those house-to-house salesman or street preachers chasing for your “green”. I didn’t do this to a woman for sex, which is what most men do, right? Act all macho or sensitive depending on the type of women they come upon. No, that would be very stereotypical which I find just as boring as average. I’ve done it for fun with a guy that had fun too, it’s harmless and amusing. How many people can say they were a different person, which they wanted to be, in that exact moment and they didn’t do it for any bad reason? Well, I’m on that list for sure.
As boring, average days lined up, I decided to do it again. But what would be challenging now? Mathew called me, we meet a few more times, hanged out, but this personality, this act, is getting staled, I want to keep it but to have a new one too. A NEW SKIN, a new mind. I want to be a liar. Yes, I will act that I’m a liar, it sounds very challenging.
I went to a bar, one close to my house called “Fluid Blue”. As I sat down I’ve seen my “victim”. A woman this time since I think they would be harder to con than a friendly guy in need of a friend, like good ol’ Mathew was. She was hot, not beautiful, just hot. Pumped up blonde, not really long legs but big breasts and a “made to amuse you” face (that’s how I call those face which had plastic surgery to look nicer).
Me: (as I approach) Did they name the bar after your eyes.
She looks at me, not really fascinated with the intentionally cheesy pick up line. As she looked at me she had a blank face, something I don’t see often since I’m not a hot guy, possibly a bit handsome, not in shape, sort of skinny. Usually girls have a “go away or try harder to compensate for your lack of good looks” face, oh and it’s a face all right! Every straight, non-hot guy from here to Beijing knows that face on a girl.
Me: Should I do better or impress you with my college degree?
Her: Okay, what degree?
Me: An intellectual, huh? Well I happen to be a chemist. And you are?
Her: Not impressed. (smiles) Organic?
Me: Nice name, a bit to veggie for me .
Her: Ha, now that’s more like it, make me laugh nerdy boy. I’m Mia.
Me: (thinking: Oh my senses, could she have a more stereotypical name for a blond) Mia, I’m Josh. (I wanted her to think the same about me a brown haired pale white guy in his late twenties).
I intentionally dressed as a pompous, prepotent guy. Dressed in a black leather long coat even thou it wasn’t could out and a black tight t-shirt with a collar like the ones Lacoste makes, and darker jeans with leather shoes.
We started talking and I bought her a drink, I was in for what I wanted: a conversation in which I can start my act. So as she finished her sentence, I started.
Me: You know, you remind me of a girl I slept with. She was a daughter of Fredrik Reinfeldt, the prime minister of Sweden.
Mia: I don’t know where that is (giggles embarrassingly).
Me: It’s Scandinavian country (acting all pompous as I say it), a Nordic country in Europe. Nordics are basically the descendants of Vikings.
Mia: You sure you’re not a historian (making that “change the subject I’m feeling stupid” face).
Me: Hey, I wouldn’t know this either if I didn’t bang her. She likes to talk after.
Mia: (She starts to make that face, realizing that I’m lying) Aha, you had sex with a famous girl from Europe?
Me: My ex roommate didn’t believe me either but I think he was jealous of me too, you know. The guy turned out to be a schizophrenic (making that “funny but spooked” face).
Mia: OH MY GOD, I had the same problem.
Me: (surprised she find a reply and possibly believed that a bit) Really?
Mia: YES! I had this roommate in college and she liked to cut herself. SUCH AN ATTENTION WHOOOORE (prolongs it annoyingly).
Me: (thinking: talk about shallow) Well fuck me. Did she beat you up with a chair?
Mia: Um no.
Me: Well, you’re lucky then mah good Mi. (intentionally spinning my head left and right). My looney beat the crap out of me, WITH A CHAIR Mia.
Mia: Wow, you poor guy.
Me: (making a tough guy face) Yeah spent some time in the hospital…But not as long as him since he’s in the nut house (laughter). I swear I didn’t make him go crazy, I think nature did.
She seemed to like me, in a “friend zone” kind of manner. She knew I was full of it, after that I told her I got shoot at by a cop accidently and some more obvious lies but women seem to think low enough about men here so that they take what they can. A liar I was, one of those guys with amazing stories yet just by a single glance you knew he was full of crap, you must have met one of those in your life, if you have a social life at all. Strangely enough I made a friend again.
As I woke up in the morning I started to think: I spent the night talking to a hot blond without ever even thinking about pushing this whole think in a sexual manner. Women can sense these things you know so I bet she probably thought: “This guy doesn’t want to get inside my pants. It’s nice, for a change”. Maybe she even thought I was one of those socially awkward shy guys and that I gathered my balls to talk to her but pretended to be a tough guy. Anyways, she has no idea that my rouse was, yet again, successful and can keep on going. But what ticked me was that it might not be healthy for me not wanting sex with her as much as wanting to pull out this acting stunt.
I’m a health freak my dear friends, but I never wondered like I do now, if this is a psychological problem I have. So I texted both Mia and Mathew if they know a good shrink. A strange question for newly met friends but I told them the oldest lie in the book, it was for my mom.
Mia suggested an interesting guy. This Balkanian man, in his 20s like me, ex-yugoslav and all. I couldn’t even say his name “Viseslav” so I just referred to him as “the shrink”.
As we began the session that same day I told the “payed to listen” guy what I started amusing myself with and my concern.
Viselsav: Bill, I find it very unorthodox but it is definitely not a “split personality” disorder. It’s sort of social vandalism, if you will.
Me: I was under the impression that all vandalism and hooliganism is anti-social.
Vislav: Okay, maybe a wish to be a bit of all those people you pretend to be.
Me: Yes. For people I meet to believe I am those personalities. You’re good, shrink.
Viseslav: Oh please, call me Viselav. You know, many other psychiatrists would make the mistake of thinking that this is a fear you have, of letting other people meet the real you.
Me: Well I don’t have to compliment you anymore as it seems you do it so well yourself (smile). Oh and I can’t pronounce your name, is it okay I call you “”the shrink” (I say it with a rugged voice in a humorous manner).
Viselsav: Sure. I’m not self-complimenting just stating some facts. See, I think you should have at least one person friend, family or other vise, that knows the real you.
Me: Well, there’s you. You’re the only one that knows the real me. I’m an orphan, spent my life in foster families and orphanages I have no more contact with, no friends outside work and they don’t know me very well there either. So, it’s you who won the “me lottery” (a big grin).
Viseslav: (smiling) Well I’m honored. And I think it’s not a sexual problem you have with the mentioned blonde, you don’t seem to like her personality.
So he kept analyzing me to figure out the root of this new hobby of mine. And I liked what I seen. The Balkanian was a Serb, and a stereotypical one: tall, intelligent, handsome, in shape and he had that accent of theirs, similar to the cheesy Dracula one. I analyzed him too, since I decided that he is on my “to wear a skin of” list.
I left an ad in the morning after, on some advertising web site. Called myself Nikola, after the famous Serbian-American scientist Nikola Tesla, and wrote that I’m a new psychiatrist in town looking for patients (customers), and I offered a very unrealistically cheap price so I wond’t have to wait for long. After that I went to work, called Mathew to meet me. He asked me why don’t I have a profile on any social network. I responded that I’m a psycho who’s going to kill him to which he responded with a “LOL”. I didn’t like the social networks as plain old me, so naturally all my other “skins in the closet” had that one thing in common.
A few days past and I managed to get a client as a shrink for next week, just a few hours before I have a meeting with my own shrink, Viselav. The irony can be smelled in that even thou metals don’t have a scent. But before that I had to do it again, it was a big gap between next week and this week. So tonight I’m going to a new gallery opening in Manhattan, near Battery Park, called “Jeanne Hebuterne” after the woman that Amadeo Modigliani had an affair with. There should be a big number of intellectuals there, the real ones and those who just like smelling their own farts, the smug “all liberal” ones which never really accomplished anything significant in their academic lives. I’m going to wear a skin of an actor or a wannabe actor, whatever. My name this evening is Richard Pecks, very similar to Richard Peck, a not so successful novelist from Illinois.
I came there with my car, I thought it would be “in the character” since it was a black Ford Thunderbird from 1980, a real “I crave attention, Hollywood style” car.
As I went in I noticed a lot of fake intellectuals and one skinny woman in the 40s, black curly hair, in that antagonizing Jamaican shirt and cap even thou she was whiter than me. She’s the victim for this full moon night.
Me: Hello there my Antilles sister.
Her: What kind of sister (followed with that sort of smile that tells you one is high as a kite)?
Me: Jamaica (pointing my finger to her shirt) is a island country in the Greater Antilles.
Her: Isn’t Jamaica in the Caribbean ocean?
Me: Well the Antilles is a group of islands, which are in the Caribbean Sea. And your name is? (I raise my head a bit to the right and along with it my right eyebrow in that questionable manner)
Her: Oh nice, you know stuff. I’m Martha.
Me: Another M. Nice.
Martha: Excuse me?
Me: Well, being that I’m an actor I get to meet a lot of people, the last two I met were Mathew and Mia. All M’s. I’M “EMMIN’ “ EVERYWHERE (LAUGHTER).
Martha: (laughs) I get it like I’m “effin’ “ everywhere, like “fucking” everywhere just the M.
Me: Yeah. And you’re an…?
Martha: Agent and I might start doing actors, handsome. (she then gives me her card and after some short conversation I appalled, she mentions her favorite cafe is this beautiful place nearby, called “The leaf” and then leaves).
I hated that, made me feel sick since she tried to hire me in some manner. It actually ruined my evening and I decided to drink a lot and then go home half drunk and sleep off the ruined rouse.
The phone rings, it’s morning. The patient for my “shrink skin” wants to meet in a public place for the first time, to meet me before the sessions begin. I suggest to make the best of that Jamaican corpse Martha and at least suggest that “the Leaf” is a great place where we could meet. It was a man in his 50s called Charles, it’s all I got.
Well, next week’s meeting is still a few days away and I didn’t get my fill last night so I called Mia and Mathew to meet them in two separate nights to get my fill since both of those skins started to be boring and almost ritualistic.
I met Mia at her house, it was a big old fashioned place, nicely decorated. No surprise since she’s a decorator.
Mia: (at the door) Hey Josh.
Me: (noticing she is a bit down) What’s up blondy, you look worst than me when that cop shoot me.
Mia: Shoot you or shoot at you, you change it every time (laughs). My boyfriend left me.
Me: That asshole? Well, you’re better off.
Mia: (looks at me in a sexy way) Why do you say asshole, you don’t know him Josh.
Me: Not that every guy who isn’t me is necessarily an ass, just that every guy who doesn’t want to be with you is definitely an ass. (I smile and give back the look since I have a penis too and this time the “not so little” fellah is working)
We went in, had a few drinks, exchanged a few of those legs rubs above the knee thou I did mine as a joke (which she seem to like).
Me: (leaning forward) So, is this my way out of the friend zone?
Mia: Let’s leave the night for itself, sex. I’m in no mood for a relationship now.
Me: Can you say, Christmas came early (laugh).
Mia: Aren’t you a Jew? (smiles).
Mia: When you were at the bathroom that time we were out for dinner, you got a text from some friend, can’t remember the name. (She feels uncomfortable and a bit ashamed) I got a bit jelly if it was a girl so I read it, and HE, I remember that much, congratulated you some Jewish holyday or something.
Me: Well it’s not much of a big deal, just privacy and all that (I say it in a humorous way, trying to turn around the thing as a joke), but it’s cool. That means you must like me to get, khhm “jelly” was it.
She laughed and I decided to skip the Jew thing and go for a kiss, I can’t stand to lose another night since I’d hate it for the two “skins” to collide. I kissed and she kissed back, I went for the breasts like a horny adolescent, which I was up until recently. The foreplay was me kissing her neck, and then going for her big fake breasts with my tongue after which I went down on her completely, giving her “the Australian kiss”. I never understood why guys get weird to give hers oral sex, they love it and will definitely enjoy it, making the whole thing a lot better and you a lot more confident. We’ve all got insecure about a first time with some girl, not my first time just the first time with her. After the oral on the couch we went for the bedroom and let me tell you, that girl DOES NOT like missionary, she did me in every way from cowgirl to 69 and back.
It sort of strange talking to a female friend after your head was just between her legs. So I hatched up some casual conversation and left, just so it wouldn’t seem like I’m a hit and run kind of guy, even thou the “liar guy skin” would go well with that.
I spent the next night with my, now old, pall Mathew and we drank again, then we decided to hit on some girls. They were cute somewhere around 18 to 20, definitely not over 21 since they drank coke. As we met them I found out that one of them is Jewish, making this night exciting. I mean, she could bust me at any moment, I don’t know THAT much about Jews, just what I got from a few years of work talk from those guys at work. The Jewish girl, let’s call her “mine” if this night does good on me, goes under the name Ahuva. After some talking she told me her name means beloved in Hebrew.
Ahuva: You know, after I met you a bit, you seem like one of those “I’m only a Jew on paper” guys.
Me: Not offended at all (sarcastically)!
Ahuva: Sorry, I’m so sorry Jon (laughs). I’m used to talking bitchy like that with my friends so I forget strangers might get angry. But you do seem like you don’t know enough about your heritage.
Me: Angry, no, no. Come one, getting angry at a bar without a good old chair and bottle smashing fight is pointless (I smile). And I bet you could take my ass down too (hopping humor will rescue me from a girl again).
Ahuva: Oh yes, I’d beat you up like this (she snaps her fingers). You might be a Jew after all Jon, sneaking up on a girl like that.
Me: Sneaking huh (grinning)?
Ahuva: What you want with me Jon (again, that sex inviting look)?
Me: Well, I’ve been with a girl last night, only friends with benefits, and I wouldn’t like to break that streak.
Ahuva: Uh you’re direct Jon. A bit too direct for me (she rolls her eyes as she says it with that annoying sarcastically changed voice). Sorry pall, no action from this girl tonight.
Me: Oh it’s cool, I thought you given me a green light.
Ahuva: Oh I do that cock pulling all the time, honestly I like when guys hook so I can tell them no (she laughs), maybe if you were a bit more buff and blue eyed mah brotha (saying it in a funny way).
She was like me in a way, in a female way. “Cock pulling” as she calls it and she wasn’t really very hot, just cute at best, maybe that’s why she does that. The average looking girls are the most insecure ones and most bitchy when men hit on them mostly because most men are afraid to hit on beautiful girls, so they go for the average ones. They get most of the “traffic” so they can play all the games they want with us.
After the bar and the night out with Mathew, who scored the other girl, the days couldn’t pass fast enough until my meeting with Charles in “the Leaf”.
I came first and sat down, ordered an espresso until my first patient makes an appearance. The Leaf was all about Rastafarian spirituality, religion, culture, whatever. I never really knew which one is it. And a man in his 50s approached my table.
Me: Yes (feeling proud that I copied Viseslav’s accent so well).
Charles: Well hello, I’m you patient Charles (he extends his hand and we shake). So, uh, what are your credentials?
Me: My credentials? If you’re asking where I graduated it was here in the big apple. My mayor was human behavior patterns.
Charles: Human behavior patterns?
Me: Yes, we all have them. I’m guessing your pattern is scratching the upper part of your hand, just bellow your fingers (I’ve seen him do it).
Charles: (not impressed) Well, yes… I guess.
Me: Let’s leave the parlor tricks and start the session huh (sarcastically)?
Charles: Well, my wife left me for a guy almost two times younger, just a few years older than our daughter. And our daughter is with a man just a few years younger than me.
Me: Well they say love knows no age but I’m guessing this isn’t about love?
Charles: No, the whore left me for a good fuck with some kid, like you. And the daughter, well she just had some financial problems and found a solution in a marriage with an old banker. (He takes a deep breath) I’m too tired for this now, how can I find a new woman as old as I am?
Me: You seem to make women the center of you world. Maybe you should take a pause from all that and just…
Charles: What!? Are you suggesting I be with men!?
Me: Wait, no, I mean…
Charles: You fucking faggot, that’s why you brought me here to this queer club or whatever shit this is!
Me: Hold on a second there buddy, that’s a Jamaican flag not the LGBT one, that’s a rainbow or something like it.
As he gets up to leave I walk up to him.
Me: Sir I didn’t bring you here to suggest anything of the sort. Why did you get so upset all of the sudden?
Charles: What are you suggesting now (looking at me angrily)?
Me: I suggest we sit down and continue the session.
Charles: Go fuck yourself kid, all you damn brats think about is sex, anyway.
As he left I paid for my espresso and left so that all the eyes pointed at me after that fiasco start minding their own business again. What I didn’t notice was Martha, looking at the whole thing with a pair of question marks in her eyes. I went directly for my meeting with a shrink and as I told everything to my paid confidant we came to this event.
Viselav: I think he got mad because of your age Bill. You reminded him of the one who stole his wife.
Me: That sounds plausible. My theory was that he was a closet homosexual.
Viseslav: Maybe a bit of both but I have to say I’m very flattered that you chose to “take my skin” as you would put it.
Me: Well thanks, I guess. You know shrink, you’re very open minded about this whole thing.
Viseslav: Yes it intrigues me to how far you’ll go. Will you be a woman?
The session has as usual but what he said about a woman? The thought echoed through my head. I’m not gay myself heck I’m probably the straightest man you’ll ever meet. Not like one of those “I hate fags” macho guys, no, they’re probably gay themselves or at least most men like that had one gay experience and are ashamed of it, blaming the openly gay ones for that. No I’m the kind of guy that’s not obsessed or besieged with sex but like everyone else, except the asexual, likes it. I never had a gay experience to be proud or ashamed of. But I decided to postpone the woman skin and go with something I wanted to from the beginning.
You know one of those southern guys with a beard and a cowboy hat? The kind that you simply look at and think “he knows some things” or “he’s a manageable guy”. That old brew of men, hard and strong personality, a character with strong opinions, probably some fundamental religious perspectives. That’s my skin for tomorrow.
As tomorrow became today and so came the evening I unwrapped the new cowboy hate I bought, found the tightest jeans I have and an old leather jacket, with a tight body shirt bellow. I also got some fake mustaches, it’s so childish bit I can’t picture this without them and my aviator shades.
I found a place suggested online where this sort would pass. So I walked in the “Southern Cherry” country club, at the counter were there men like me, at the tables a few women, none specially attractive, average at best, much like myself when it comes to the looks department. So I went for the counter, sat just behind the one that was dressed almost like me.
Me: Howdy partner (I wanted to say this, it was at least 30% of the reason I decided to be a redneck this night).
Him: (smiling) Well “howdy” (sarcastically), dude. Not homo, sorry.
Me: Me neither, just makin’ some small talk. Don’t like to drink in silence, I recon.
Him: Well, me neither (again sarcastically as he pulls his chair almost as like he was desperate to talk to someone here), my name is William. You buddy?
Me: You’re Bill?
William: I like William more, I do.
Me: Well, I’m Bill, myself. Just Bill, not William.
William: Bill? Hah! Now that’s a coincidence, two Bills and one’s a Will.
Me: There’s gonna be three Bills when we’re done chugging those beers (pointing to the bartender).
William: (leans and whispers while grinning) I’d chug her.
Me: Hah! (as I grab my bear) Cheers “chugger”!
William: Cheers! So where do you come from, partner.
Me: (I swallow my spit, and make that serious face as I look at him) Louisiana bayou (as I intentionally do that “whisper and whistle a bit” with the s in Louisiana).
William: The wetlands? I bet you seen some big gators there. I myself am a New Yorker, I just like this fucking bar and some fine country pussy.
Me: Well I recon, now I know you’re a New Yorker (as I slap him on the shoulder) with that fault mouth of yours (grinning).
William: Hey who doesn’t like country cunt can…
My phone started ringing, interrupting him and toping the almost silent song from the speakers that could barely be heard in the background. The number was Martha’s, I forgot I even gave her my number. I pointed my finger at William showing him to wait.
My new friend on the counter made a strange face and turned around facing me with his back, showing that Martha has somehow managed to ruin yet another ruse.
Martha: I’ve seen you at the leaf. What the hell, are you a shrink or an actor, what…?
Me: I’m an actor Martha (with an obviously agitated voice). I was acting Nikola the Serbian born shrink, okay? I find it fun to do live imitations since I can’t get a role in this stinking city. This keeps me on edge and gives me the necessary experience until I pull thru in the show-biz.
Martha: Okay, look you were good. I really want to be your agent, hell I won’t even charge you anything until I get an audition and only WHEN, not if, but WHEN you get a role will I charge my 15%.
Me: What? Okay I guess, get to it.
Martha: Man I thought that guy was going to punch you. Fuck you could feel the adrenaline in the air, looking for pores to crawl up in.
She asked a few more questions, I was just glad about two things: 1. I got rid of her 2. I still pulled a ruse on her. Yes she caught me in a different skin but still, I managed to keep the actor skin on.
The phone call was over and so was my redneck skin. I went home but not all disappointed. Like I said, 30% of the reason I did this was the “Howdy partner”. At least I got that.
Few more days passed and I’ve seen Mia a few more times, only once we had sex again and after that it got awkward for her, so I’m sure she won’t be seeing me again. Mathew is happily in love with that girl he met when we were out but he didn’t forget about his Jewish friend Jon, so we still hang out some times. I found that skin boring but the fact he didn’t ditch me as soon as he hooked up with her impressed me, so I kept hanging out with him almost as if I felt I owe him. You must have had a friend like that once, that hooked up with a girl, fell in love after a short while and ditched all or most of his friends for her, or should I say because of her? As I was going to meet another “patient” as Nikola, I also started looking for a good dress since I wanted to do the woman thing. It’s not transsexual or anything like that, it’s this damn hobby of mine. Maybe I’m a chronic liar? I’ll ask Viseslav tomorrow, but now I’m meeting my young female patient, a shopaholic. That is convenient since I’m “buying this dress for my sister which is roughly my size”, if you know what I mean? Since this young money spender knew a lot about shopping, she was perfect to pick my dress, pardon, “my sisters dress”.
We meet at the Manhattan Mall. She was roughly the age of Ahuva, but prettier and judging by her name, Stella, not Jewish.
Stella: Hi (extending the i annoyingly).
Me: Hi. Should I confiscate your credit cards? Your dad said you have a problem.
Stella: Oh you’re not old enough to be that grumpy, shit you’re almost my age.
Me: I think I’m about six or seven years older, and about 10 grumpier (smiling).
Stella: we’re shopping for you, not me (again with an annoying extension).
Me: Yes, for me. Since I love dresses, you should see me in red it really points out my butt.
Stella: Ha ha ha, you’re silly I love that shit man.
She grabs me by the hands and takes me to a boutique. We shopped for a few hours, thou I counted the session as lasting one hour, pointing out to her it was a onetime act of kindness since it was our first session. I had to make seem like it was real, you know? I live from these sessions, can’t fool around.
So, I had my fill of the “shrink skin”, finally. Also, we found a great dress for my new and first woman skin. If I like it I might do a few.
The though bothered me thou, should I be a lesbian? If I a hot guy hits on me it would be unrealistic to say no to him since there’s no other guy I came with, even thou I say I’m married or something it wont matter. Women cheat more than men, you know? They just keep it to themselves, enjoying that sweat sexual experience they had, the orgasm, so they can do it again, over and over again without the partner finding out. Men on the other hand, brag about it to as much people as they can, since men don’t have sex just for pleasure they have it for the ego too. Women, my dear friends, enjoy sex far more than men do, yet we have to “chase” them around? That’s their ultimate superiority over us thou even that “dogma” is falling to pieces, the cherishing of women for their vaginas since women are more and more open about their sexuality there is less and less of those strong ladies and more and more of those insecure-about-their-body girls. Which one should I be?
The dress we picked was red, stylish and tight. I shaved and waxed ever part of my very hairy body, except the “bikini zone”. I decided not to be a lesbian; instead I applied on a dating web site. As usual I had around 2645 offers in less than half an hour, I picked the ninth one, my favorite number, and his name was Ted, my least favorite name.
We were to meet for dinner, in a Italian restaurant called “Sicilian pigeon”. Originality was obviously not his gig; he never even asked me if I liked Italian food. Thou my concerns were if I can change my voice to be female enough, I met him there. He was sitting at the table, a guy in his 30s already starting to lose his hair not even remotely attractive. I found it almost funny that I’m doing this to him, as I found my fake breasts funny when I was putting my dress on. He wasn’t even a gentleman enough to stand up and pull my chair for me. Maybe he knew I’m not a lady? Maybe he didn’t even care, since he’s some sort of a cyber pervert? No, I don’t think he did and I wasn’t going to let anyone ruin this one for me. I wanted to be a woman this fine evening and so I was.
Me: Hello Ted, how are you darling (I looked concerned since it was the first time I spoke with my “female voice”).
Ted: Oh hello Rose, I’m great now that I see you are even more beautiful live then on those wonderful pictures. Don’t be afraid, I see it on your face, I’m the Ted from the web, you didn’t come to the wrong table (he laughs thinking he knew why I looked concerned).
Me: Oh ha ha, you got me Ted, but only that way for now. No action from this gall tonight (I laugh).
Ted: Oh, okay (disappointed). Well, shall we order drinks?
And so we did some small talked passed he told me he was a teacher. My first thought to that was: “This dumb creep? Man the educational system went down the drain”. We ordered food, he ate a duck and I ate some salad, like a good old fashioned lady. He seemed to talk mostly about himself and the food barely paying any attention to me, which was perfect, he didn’t notice all the things about me I was afraid he would.
As the night passed he escorted me to a bus station, even thou he was against me using public transportation this late. I told him it was scarier for me to get a ride from a guy I just met, over the internet. He was offended by that, it was great for me since I was on the brink of pulling yet another ruse, better than any before.
We were there and I could see my bus in the distance a minute or two away. He turned around and gave me that look and the smile, leaning to me just long enough for me to think:”Oh shit”, before he kissed me. I said good night and he was grinning like a monkey after a good “poop and toss”. Well it didn’t ruin my night, it was a compliment right? He was sure I was a woman, I am sure of that, and also, I got that gay experience now like all the other men, well I don’t think the other men dressed like this and went on a date with a loser, but you know what I mean.
As I looked in the bathroom mirror, taking off the makeup, magnetic earrings (one of the things I was afraid he would notice) I felt disgusted, perverted and so fucking proud of myself. Wow, you did this you did all of this. I was already planning on another redneck stunt, a few more patients and another female experience but without kissing this time, maybe I do try being a lesbian after all. I’m also a bit scared of getting beaten up by one of them when she grabs me down there and finds my “arrowish friend”. These New York lesbos pack a punch, my friends.
Tomorrow I went to see Martha, she called and promised me an audition. Although I never had any acting experience on screen or stage, it was a skin and I wanted to wear it. It was a challenge, this woman already seen though me once and managed to ruin as far as two of my ruses. She took me to an audition for a tv-show, like a male version of the “Sex and the city” as far as I got it. The director and the producer were both aging overweight women (which gave me the assumption about the show).
Me: Richard Pecks, similar to the novelist (grinning).
Director: Never heard of him.
She stands up and gives me a part of the script.
Director: Read the text for the role of Eric, you don’t have the look for the other roles.
And so I did, the script was mostly some mushy stuff only women her kind would watch, meaning it would sell great in America, but the show was set in L.A. As I finished reading Ihad to know what was going on.
Me: So, what’s up with the L.A. thing Martha?
Martha: First of, you were great Richard!
Me: Thanks… (trying to act pompous like all the new actors do)
Martha: Okay. The show is set in L.A. but she wanted to have the audition here since they’re both born New Yorkers and think that best actors come from here.
Me: What, both the director and producer?
Martha: Mhm. I’ll call you WHEN, notice not if but WHEN, I find out you got the role, sweaty.
She went on her business and so did I. The audition was very early on, so I got to work, a bit late but no one noticed or at least no one raised a fuss about it. The working day passed and I went to the only guy who knows the true color of my skin, the “notorious” shrink.
Viseslav: So, you were a woman.
Me: yes, even got a kiss!
Viseslav: What? (laughs) That must have ruined it for you? No.
Me: I decided to take it as a compliment.
Viseslav: Pardon my freedom but um, “I decided to take it” might not be the best choice of words right now (he’s still laughing even harder than before).
Me: (laughing with him) Well it was a nice skin to wear. Can’t say the same for the dress thou, really uncomfortable.
Viseslav: tell me something, is this making you fell less average like your life is fun again?
Me: I feel like my life is more mine now than it ever was before when I was me the whole time.
Viseslav: Good, that is good. And how are your new friends Mia, Mathew?
Me: Well, Mia and I lost all contact and I’m actually meeting with Mathew and his girlfriend tomorrow night, she’s bringing her friend Ahuva so that I wouldn’t be the third wheel.
Viseslav: Okay, that sounds like the healthiest of your new friendships. I would advise you to focus more on that, everyone needs a goof reliable friend and that guy sounds great for the job.
He was too! Mathew was one of those “good to the bone marrow” guys which most people end up using for something they needs often hurting him, which is why I didn’t feel bad about my ruse. I’m not hurting him in any way like most people would, true I lied to him but it’s what I do now and, well hell, I like it even more now than I did at the beginning which was actually Mathew himself.
The day passed and tomorrow came again. We met at the bar close to his apartment where we first met. It’s called “cocktailita-bonita“. He was there, looking very happy, with his girlfriend Lisa and she brought her friend, my “Jewish challenge” called Ahuva.
Mathew: Hey bro (extends his hand and we shake).
Lisa: Hello (followed by that female friendly kiss on the cheek).
Ahuva: Hello way-to-forward guy (laughs).
Me: Oh, the um, khhm-pulling girl (giggle).
Ahuva: (as the other two love birds start their own conversation) You mean the “cock-pulling” girl? Well I said it why this shyness all of the sudden (and another one of her sexy inviting smiles)?
Me: Well that way maybe you stop the “cock-pulling” and start something real, teaser (evil smile).
Ahuva: (positively annoyed that I given her such a reply) Well, well. There’s something to pull down there after all.
As the night kept going it was getting more and more obvious that she is fond of me now. We flirted, drank, sung songs all four of us together, even danced after that. I can’t remember the last time I danced before this, must have been in high school on some dance or something. After dancing ended, the groping started, my hands were all over her and she wasn’t any less physical on me either. We then made out, started kissing if you will. She was one of those short kissers, you know? She kisses for a few seconds, looks at you with in extremely sexy way, then goes back to kissing again, then maybe smiles or giggles in a nice way. I honestly didn’t expect that of her, seems that there is a gentle person to be broken behind the unbreakable wall. Well, I didn’t want to be a destroyer. One hand after the other, once kiss after the other and we ended up in my house. A small but tastefully done place, as I like to believe. I’m neat so it’s not a mess like with most guys’ houses.
She didn’t like foreplay, even the oral sex. The first girl I met, ever to be that way. This one was all about the dick, wanted to go straight to sex without delay. As we did it from behind she mourned in a bit screamish way. I turned her around to see her boobs, which were natural and nice, as we’ve done it in the missionary pose. She had a mole just next to her nipple, not a very big one but the kind you’d like I guess. After the sex and the shower after sex were over, she went home. For some reason she didn’t want this to be a real relationship either. Maybe women see me somehow for what I am, find it sexy for some reason and then get bored of it after a while? It’s a big fucking maybe.
The phone was ringing again. It was Martha, since she woke me up it took me some time to answer the phone.
Martha: you got it sweaty, we’re in the big leagues.
Me: Come one, I just woke up don’t screw with me…
Martha: Come to the fucking office and see the contract, it’s all set. You get a hundred thousand for the first season and after even more, if the ratings are good (she said with extreme joy).
Me: (amazed) Well, minus your cut you, you, you QUEEN!
Martha: Well, yeah. Come. NOW!
Me: On my way.
My senses was I amazed, didn’t even get to think about my name being Bill Mileow and not Richard Pecks. The tough went thru my head:” I can’t risk pissing them off now! I’ll legally change it tomorrow making the contract valid”. This was never my dream, honestly but somehow when you think about it, now I get to do what I love and make a fortune of it. Did I sell out? Yes, and for 85% of one hundred thousand dollars, one of the main roles in a mushy tv-show but hey, everyone starts somewhere, Stallone started out as a porn actor, right?
As I drove my car to the office, I only had one bad though: What will Mathew think of me now? Mia I no longer cared about, Viselav knew the truth but Mathew didn’t. I realized I couldn’t leave such a good guy to hang, to be betrayed for him to find out on the tv what I truly am.
I went to the office, and I didn’t tell the truth to Martha, like I said I’ll change my name and I like Richard Pecks far better than Bill Mileow. After that I headed to my working environment, quit without asking for severance since everyone there were okay to me and since I made a lot of money it did seem unfair in this economy, I knew only the “small guys” would suffer. I said good bye to my mostly Hebrew colleagues and received their congratulations as well as their surprises when they found out I liked acting. Fear well, last segment of my life, this was the death of Bill Mileow.
It was time to kill Jon too so I called Mathew to explain everything to him. We met in the “Fluid Blue”.
Me: I have to tell you something my friend, I’ll do it directly, no bullshit!
Mathew: Okay man, you’re scaring me here… (smiles, afraid).
Me: Well, it a good news actually. I’m not a Jew, I know you won’t care for that. I’m actually an atheist as far as I know since I’m an orphan my ethnicity and background are not known to me.
Mathew: Man come one, you didn’t have to be ashamed of that. What the fuck? I wouldn’t care.
Me: No, No. I know that, you are a great guy. See I acted to be a Jew. It’s what I do.
Mathew: An actor?
Me: Yeah, and I just landed my first great gig, one hundred big ones is my paycheck.
Mathew: Wow man, congratz. (Looks at me) Just because this is a great day for you, I won’t be mad BUT, you’ll be buying a shit load of drinks with all that money dude (laughs).
Me: (smiling) Sure pall, and call me Richard from now one.
Mathew: Wait, what?
Me: Well, my agent suggested I change it, it sounds better, she says.
Hey, one last lie for the road.
© Copyright 2017 Nikola Perkovic. All rights reserved.
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