Since part one was such a big hit (literally, probably the most read episode on Chasing Boston) I thought I would follow up with some slightly more awkward emails. I clearly have a knack for getting the real gems out there. With promises of better mornings, princess treatment and love caresses (can someone PLEASE explain this one!), how can I resist?? (cue gag reflex)
Subject: You and Me
Hi you gorgeous, yet a stranger with my resemblances! Yes, I mean you. Your profile brought a smile to my face. Since our paths have crossed, why don’t we go together on the road of friendship? I will seek to quench your thirst during the journey with the hope of better mornings and you will simply keep me company.
Subject: I truly love your profile
Hi! I loved your profile and would love to learn more about you. I am certain anyone who is as lovely as you has many men writing to her. But I believe we have much in common. By the way, I am a speech anxiety reduction expert and a professor of speech in a university not far from Boston. I am tall (6' 2 1/2") and blond and loving and affectionate and love caresses. I search for love and kindness and trustworthiness in a relationship. I am very impressed with you. I think "couple" can be defined this way best: love, respect, kindness, values, beliefs, faith, sense of humor, trust, communication, sexiness, hugs, kisses, and playfulness : -))))))))))))
Thank you and thank you for lifting me up. And I wish you the very best in your searching. I am hoping to meet my best friend and soul-mate. I search for my second half. I want a girl with strong values and who is also loving and affectionate. And, loving the Red Sox is great too!
Sincerely,
(insert name here)
P.S. I liked your profile one of the best. Thanks again!
Note: his screen name is: ILuvHugsToo….nuff said.
Subject: I want to go into battle in your honor
Do you still play that French horn?
~Conan the Musical Barbarian
Subject: I’m Batman
Hey how are you? My name is Batman I have to say you have amazing eyes and a great smile. You should definitely do toothpaste commercials, I can be your manager, lol. Really hoping to make that dream of meeting the man of your dreams on the Internet come true, lol. I still believe in Chivalry and would treat you like the Princess that you are. I am also a good girlfriend and would definitely take you away like to Italy or somewhere else. All I would like this Memorial day is for your phone number. Looking for a woman that likes to travel to new places like my bedroom, lol. I think Hawaii is the best place I have visited so far, how about yourself? I look exactly like my pictures except the fact I used to be a woman, lol. Would love to take you to a Sox game my Dad has season tix. Well I would love to hear back from you if not I will probably cry like a little school girl.
Saturday, July 23, 2011
Friday, July 15, 2011
Episode 15: “You Make Me Feel Like a Natural Woman"
If I were to post this as a personal add, I would have to put it in the w4w as a compliment to your cross-dressing skills. Our paths crossed when you were in line at Starbucks, presumably to get coffee:
You: -Sporting a Miniskirt. Heavy emphasis on "mini." I don't know what you had to do to fold your package in on itself but it was an epic feat (without venturing above the midriff, I might add). I can only imagine it involves a quarter-roll of packing tape and a gram of Vicodin every single day to pull off. Bravo, to you.
- Six-Foot Four. I can't imagine where one finds a miniskirt for a six-foot four man. Is there some WNBA clothing store I'm not aware of? Do you just tape two of them together and call it a day? Being about your height I know how hard it can be to find good-fitting clothes for men. You found a miniskirt that you managed to contort into right after you taped your balls to your pelvis.
- The Hair. I know, I know; It's hard enough to shave your face. And the fact that you were born a hairy male isn't helping your cause either. The face was shaved, sadly elsewhere was not. But you wore it proud. I'd classify your grooming as "tranny casual." I do think, though, that if you really want to sell people you're going to have to do something about that back hair. Your tank top, despite a heroic effort, was no match.
- The Tank Top. What's a boygirl to wear when they go the miniskirt route? You answered definitively by sporting a tank top. Sure, your hair wasn't deterred by a flimsy women’s garment, but most people probably stopped at the miniskirt, so who's going to notice, right? I did, buddy. But I think with a good proper razor and some strong discipline, your broad shoulders will finally have the time in the spotlight they so rightfully deserve.
- The Button. You had no intention of stopping at a miniskirt and tank top. Normal transvestites, dare I say the majority of them, would have ended it there. Not you, good sirmadam. The "ALPHA FEMALE" button was the icing on your cake. It wasn't a small button, either. Don't worry, if no one had noticed by then that you probably had your package vacuum-sealed to your lower stomach under the miniskirt, then you would've been just another tranny walking by. But I tell you that in that starbucks where, every man woman and in-between was wearing a button, a thirty-something six-foot four oddly-broad-shouldered individual with a baritone voice wearing a large "ALPHA FEMALE" button really made a statement.
Me: 5'4 Brunette Starring hard and rendered speechless...I was very impressed (and nothing more, mind you).
You: -Sporting a Miniskirt. Heavy emphasis on "mini." I don't know what you had to do to fold your package in on itself but it was an epic feat (without venturing above the midriff, I might add). I can only imagine it involves a quarter-roll of packing tape and a gram of Vicodin every single day to pull off. Bravo, to you.
- Six-Foot Four. I can't imagine where one finds a miniskirt for a six-foot four man. Is there some WNBA clothing store I'm not aware of? Do you just tape two of them together and call it a day? Being about your height I know how hard it can be to find good-fitting clothes for men. You found a miniskirt that you managed to contort into right after you taped your balls to your pelvis.
- The Hair. I know, I know; It's hard enough to shave your face. And the fact that you were born a hairy male isn't helping your cause either. The face was shaved, sadly elsewhere was not. But you wore it proud. I'd classify your grooming as "tranny casual." I do think, though, that if you really want to sell people you're going to have to do something about that back hair. Your tank top, despite a heroic effort, was no match.
- The Tank Top. What's a boygirl to wear when they go the miniskirt route? You answered definitively by sporting a tank top. Sure, your hair wasn't deterred by a flimsy women’s garment, but most people probably stopped at the miniskirt, so who's going to notice, right? I did, buddy. But I think with a good proper razor and some strong discipline, your broad shoulders will finally have the time in the spotlight they so rightfully deserve.
- The Button. You had no intention of stopping at a miniskirt and tank top. Normal transvestites, dare I say the majority of them, would have ended it there. Not you, good sirmadam. The "ALPHA FEMALE" button was the icing on your cake. It wasn't a small button, either. Don't worry, if no one had noticed by then that you probably had your package vacuum-sealed to your lower stomach under the miniskirt, then you would've been just another tranny walking by. But I tell you that in that starbucks where, every man woman and in-between was wearing a button, a thirty-something six-foot four oddly-broad-shouldered individual with a baritone voice wearing a large "ALPHA FEMALE" button really made a statement.
Me: 5'4 Brunette Starring hard and rendered speechless...I was very impressed (and nothing more, mind you).
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Episode 14: Jew….ish
“Don’t you think you are being insensitive?”
(There it was, the last 3 months had lead us to this place and I was sitting on the edge of a very uncomfortable couch taking in all I could handle…)
“I mean, maybe you forgot, but I’m Jewish”
(Actually I didn’t forget that you were Jewish, maybe you did since I had to provide direction on the proper placement of candles in your menorah…but whatevs)
“Let me remind you of this little event called the HOLOCAUST!!”
(How was I going to compete with this one?)
I had that conversation exactly 36 hours before our plane to Munich was to be "wheels up". I had been looking at my passport for the last week and planning out my wardrobe selections for our trip, a trip that was a surprise get-a-way, planned by non other than him, when my phone rang and Mr. Ish in a frantic tone asked me to caucus over our impending travel and “my inability to commit to someone of his stature”….whatever that meant.
The next 3 hours was a circular discussion about how we never hold hands, how I’m insensitive, and how he just couldn’t go on in this “abusive relationship” any longer. I, in a surprisingly quiet manner asked where this was coming from, and the response that I got was grossly obnoxious; apparently a month ago we were shopping for dinner; he suggested pork and I, like the amazing chef I believe myself to be suggested a pancetta and apple compote……
The room fell silent. I’m not following along I said. In fact I’m confused because that was an AH.MAZ.ING suggestion on my end and poaching those apples in the brandy was really my culinary genius reaching its peak…his hand raised up and stopped me, “It's not kosher Courtney” that was the issue.
“The Pancetta?”
“No, The pork”
“You suggested the Pork!”
“Did you for a second think that maybe I shouldn’t eat the pork because it’s NOT kosher”
“Ho.Lee.Shit!….you’re not kosher”
The point, he explained to me was that I didn’t ask. I did not ask him if he may want to be aware that he was suggesting we partake in a food in which he would be disrespecting his religion and his family, and in his eyes, he could never be with someone who didn’t take this into account. This was a test he said to me…and you failed, just like you failed the Munich test; furthermore I would appreciate it if you left.
I stood up and compiled the most eloquent set of lexicons that I could think of in that situation;
And I would appreciate an Academy nomination for the demanding and time consuming reprise role of Girl 1 in “Fake Orgasm" part 1-34 also, don’t take this the wrong way, because I respect you…but go fuck yourself, unless that’s not kosher…I’ll see myself out (cue hair flip)
As the elevator descended down, I was minus one key on my key chain and plus one first class ticket to Germany.
(There it was, the last 3 months had lead us to this place and I was sitting on the edge of a very uncomfortable couch taking in all I could handle…)
“I mean, maybe you forgot, but I’m Jewish”
(Actually I didn’t forget that you were Jewish, maybe you did since I had to provide direction on the proper placement of candles in your menorah…but whatevs)
“Let me remind you of this little event called the HOLOCAUST!!”
(How was I going to compete with this one?)
I had that conversation exactly 36 hours before our plane to Munich was to be "wheels up". I had been looking at my passport for the last week and planning out my wardrobe selections for our trip, a trip that was a surprise get-a-way, planned by non other than him, when my phone rang and Mr. Ish in a frantic tone asked me to caucus over our impending travel and “my inability to commit to someone of his stature”….whatever that meant.
The next 3 hours was a circular discussion about how we never hold hands, how I’m insensitive, and how he just couldn’t go on in this “abusive relationship” any longer. I, in a surprisingly quiet manner asked where this was coming from, and the response that I got was grossly obnoxious; apparently a month ago we were shopping for dinner; he suggested pork and I, like the amazing chef I believe myself to be suggested a pancetta and apple compote……
The room fell silent. I’m not following along I said. In fact I’m confused because that was an AH.MAZ.ING suggestion on my end and poaching those apples in the brandy was really my culinary genius reaching its peak…his hand raised up and stopped me, “It's not kosher Courtney” that was the issue.
“The Pancetta?”
“No, The pork”
“You suggested the Pork!”
“Did you for a second think that maybe I shouldn’t eat the pork because it’s NOT kosher”
“Ho.Lee.Shit!….you’re not kosher”
The point, he explained to me was that I didn’t ask. I did not ask him if he may want to be aware that he was suggesting we partake in a food in which he would be disrespecting his religion and his family, and in his eyes, he could never be with someone who didn’t take this into account. This was a test he said to me…and you failed, just like you failed the Munich test; furthermore I would appreciate it if you left.
I stood up and compiled the most eloquent set of lexicons that I could think of in that situation;
And I would appreciate an Academy nomination for the demanding and time consuming reprise role of Girl 1 in “Fake Orgasm" part 1-34 also, don’t take this the wrong way, because I respect you…but go fuck yourself, unless that’s not kosher…I’ll see myself out (cue hair flip)
As the elevator descended down, I was minus one key on my key chain and plus one first class ticket to Germany.
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