I can’t get dressed

I hate this bloody pandemic. I want to get dressed and I can’t. I daren’t. My flatmates might not like it.

Authors note : I haven’t posted for a while now. Back in Dec 2018, I finished my set of 500-word ‘starter stories’ and the only person who took one and added a sequel ….. was me! Then the writing monkey took a break and couldn’t give me any worthwhile stories. Recently, I re-read some of my own stories and got a bit interested again. There may be a few posts in the near future. AP

I hate having to live in such close quarters with my flatmates.

I really know what Greta Garbo meant when she said ‘I want to be alone’ [even if that’s actually a misquote!]. But MY reasons are rather different from hers. Not that I would mind looking like her …. Y’know how in some of her photos she looks, well, rather masculine. I wouldn’t mind being able to look like that …. as long as everyone KNEW that I was a girl.

But I’m not.

I just enjoy dressing up. And at the moment, I can’t.

Can you imagine it. Coming out of my bedroom into the sitting-room aka communal area …. wearing a pretty dress, or my favourite culottes, tights (or even stockings) and a silk blouse. I don’t think so. It would not be good for me or for what would be left of my reputation. Ha.

I share a big flat with another chap and three girls. It’s pretty unusual but over the last couple of years, people have come and gone and now ….. that’s how it is. We’ve had four chaps to start with; then as many as three girls and one bloke, me; and now again it’s 3 and 2.

It works fine – except when one or other of us sets up some particularly irritating stereotype. Y’know, like expecting the girls to do rather more than their share of cooking, or cleaning.

But back to me. I want to get dressed up and I can’t, daren’t, won’t.

I do sometimes wear panties – but that’s the maximum I’m willing to risk. Plain, cotton, white, nearly-boyish panties – but I love them. the feel of them. Wonderful.

I do have a small selection of clothes. I’ve collected them from charity shops or the occasional trip to Marks & Spencer or suchlike. Some supermarkets have a useful selection and the girls on the till don’t care. ‘Kerching’. And I feel that it’s too much of a risk to try anything too, erm, overt right now. It would be bad enough in ordinary times if the girls (or Charles) found out and gave me grief or dissent or worse. I’ve been around; I’ve read the stories – true or false – and I know there’s enough nasties out there to make me very afraid of the potential for unkindness.

I mean – I know I’ve been unkind about and to minorities who didn’t fit my personal view of what’s acceptable. I mean Punk. Rap. Crap – and that’s just the music and fashion I dislike. What’s to like about Goth and their dressing in black and multiple piercings. Yuk.

I just want to dress ordinary, be ordinary, just be comfortable – even though that will mean that I am a man in a dress. It’s just a costume. Women can wear almost anything a man wears. Now and through the late 20th century this included short hair, man’s shirt, tie, jacket, trousers, shoes, boots and there’s probably more. And yet WOMEN weren’t restricted to the dull black, grey, brown, blue colours sold to the average man. AND they could also wear anything they wanted in the huge range of women’s wear. But the range of choice is denied to the modern man.

How things change. Any student of fashion will have a huge amount to say about how often and how much it has changed over the years. Any adequate student will be able to say when men wore stockings, high heels, long curled hair, frills, lace, velvet, bright and gaudy colours and so on. Not a choice any more – except to a few of the more outre and bold.

And, yes, some of that had originally been worn by men then appropriated by the women. Just do some research and find how recent is the ‘rule’ that pink is for girls and blue is for boys. Almost every picture of the Madonna has her in blue – and she’s rather obviously not male. Huh.

So, here I am – in my flat – wanting to wear something pretty but feeling so restricted by the expected social pressure.

In the stories, it might happen that the girls suddenly realize and support me; or they suddenly realize and evict me; or they never realize until I gradually reveal Heather and they are mildly supportive; or one of them or one of their friends actually loves girly-me. Ha. I’m not stupid. I’ve seen the people hurt by this. It’s not pretty.

But I’m getting deeper into emotional turmoil. I’m getting stressed and I can find no way to release the pressure. I’m not a steam-engine with a simple release valve! And I’m getting the vibe back that I’m making them uncomfortable.

It’s a few days later. Belle and Jane were studying in their rooms. At least that’s what the warning on each of their doors said. A previous flatmate had built little clocks for every room – Working; Really Important Work; Tidying Up; Resting; Knock-and-Wait; Out-for-10; Out; and so on. Both of them were flagging ‘Really Important’

We were sitting having coffee, so it was Lin who made the first step. “Eric, why are you so stressed. Is it not being able to relax properly?”

I didn’t answer. I just went bright red – because something in the way she said ‘relax’ made it clear to me, perhaps being oversensitive, that my secret was out. I don’t think she noticed. She certainly didn’t ask why I had blushed. Phew.

“Huh, how can I be other than relaxed. My job, minimal though it was, is in freefall; my family is at the other end of the country and, being luddite, with no more access than the tellingbone. I’m locked in here with just us. We’ve got a police station a hundred yards away – which the papers tell us is filled with overzealous bullies ‘only doing our job, sir’. Bollux. How do you suggest I relax?”

Belle’s [Belinda] suggestion was that we actually do a bit more together rather than pretty much trying to be four individuals in a flat. "Y’know, eat together, cook in turns, get some of the crap out of the back of cupboards, maybe even have a painting party.”

“For a starter, Jane’s promised to cook tonight; I’ve volunteered to tidy up though I could do with some help. But this afternoon, it’s stage one of ‘Linda’s wardrobe’. Belle and Jane are up for it – provided we wait a day or so before doing them. I’ve read up on the process. You get everything out and sort into Go, Keep and Maybe.”

There was a pause.

“I know it’s not going to be easy – but the plan is for them to set me up with a less complicated and messy selection of actual outfits not just one-off items that may or may not go together. A set of tops and bottoms, properly planned, can apparently give you lots of options – but I’ve never managed to find a worthwhile selection. They tell me that a few carefully chosen pieces can give you lots of outfits, dozens if you do it right. Then there’s going to be a few things from Jane’s clear-out and from Belle. It’ll be fun. And my cupboard might have some space, huh, as if.”

“That’s something for the three of you then. What’ll I do – do the shopping and then prep everything for dinner. Doesn’t feel a lot different from most of the other recent lockdown days.”

“Oh come on. Exactly how would you manage with a bunch of girls going through piles of skirts, dresses and so on. And however grubby your male-mind might be - ……” She paused. “You DO want to be involved, don’t you? Why?”

“I suppose it’s from a surfeit of sisters. The three of them were always doing things and leaving me out. Sometimes, I just wondered how much I was missing. What could they teach me, share with me that would make me more understanding of women, girls and so on. I don’t seem to do too well with girls – I think it’s because I don’t understand enough about them.”

“Is that the only reason?”

“No, but we’ve got this lockdown. Reading around, so many people are doing something new, different, unusual – finding out about themselves. Perhaps there’s a bit of that too. I will say that if anyone doesn’t want me to be there, then I won’t. I’ll be fine with that. Or if, after a while, someone thinks it doesn’t feel right – same again – I’ll be out. But, y’know, I just thought, y’know, maybe …..” and I let my sentence drift off.

“Hmmm, interesting. Let’s set up four coffees while I think about this. I’ll call the others about coffee-break. And you know that I’m going to have to talk with Jane and Belle too. And they might have comments. But I can see how you think there might be some benefit in doing some girl-type tasks. And going through MY wardrobe is going to be full-on girl. Some of the clothes will bring out stories which I wouldn’t share with a boy, not normally. And there’ll be the whole range from embarrassing, sexy, silly, awful and everything. But as you say, perhaps this can be a learning opportunity – for more than just you.”

She took a gulp of coffee, and a deep breath, then veered off on a new (horribly unexpected) topic “So, really, how little do you know about girls. How much experience have you got?” and her big wink made it exactly clear what she meant. “Which of us is the most interesting to you, hmm?

I blushed again – possibly more than before. And this time, she was looking directly at me.

“Ho, hum. That blush says somewhere between none at all and very little, hmmm?”

I couldn’t answer. I just blushed more. But her last comment gave me a bit of a let-out. “My dad gave me a big rule ‘Don’t date flatmates or work colleagues; if it goes wrong, it’ll be awful.” And I’ve seen it happen. Yeah, and I know that Lara and Geoff have been together since they lived here – but it’s a risk. And sometimes life just barges through and sometimes it’s probably not worth it.”

“And you’ve lived in flatland how long?”

“About four years now.”

“And you’ve not dated a single flatmate.”

“No, and not even the married one.”

“You and your wordplay. You have to know that Belle hates that.”

“What?”

“You didn’t realize? She thinks that you’re getting at her because she’s so bad at jokes and puns and all that.”

“Duh, didn’t have a clue. Should I apologise?”

“Well yes, but not obviously. Just give her some leeway when you go on a bit, yeah?”

“Go on a bit…”

“Yes, when you keep going and making more and more laboured puns about branching off, didn’t you twig, just leaf it alone for the tree of us – you know you do it. Just say ‘enough’ out loud now and again.”

“Oh.”

“It’s not that bad – but girl-type-advice time – Belle would never say to a boy that he was boring her. Not even to a flatmate.”

“What was the girl-message that she gave to you that I was punning too much.”

“Difficult to say now that we’ve been together for this long. I’ll think about it. If you want to understand girls better, you need to listen and think differently.”

“Oh god, don’t make me think like a girl. That’d be so.... “

Lin interrupted “I don’t think you want to finish that statement. If you want to do anything with us then you’ve got to be more flexible – and if necessary, do girly things to learn what it feels like.”

I think I blushed even more.

“I don’t think we’ll be doing anything that out of order – so you don’t need to blush.”

“I’ll try not to. Will you tell me what Belle and Jane think – and when this is going to happen?”

“If you’re helping tidy up and look through my wardrobe, then I won’t be hiding anything from you – and that was a deliberate pun.”

“Ugh” my man-mouth replied. “I have no interest, well not any improper sort of interest, in your underwear – if that’s what you mean.”

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist – and mine neither,”

“I really don’t think that I’ll be.... ”

Interrupted again. “Don’t be so silly, With three to one, you won’t be doing anything stupid – unless you’ve suddenly lost brain cells by doing a girl-type task. Yes, no?”

“I promise that I won’t do anything stupid that I can prevent in time. And as a flatmate, Dad’s Rule says I don’t want to get into your panties, or your bra or anything like that.” I said no more, but Heather-inside moaned faintly.

Some while later, perhaps an hour, Belle knocked on my door. “We’re about to start, do you still want to join in. I don’t mind. Jane pulled a bit of a face but she said that was because she had brothers who took any opportunity to criticise what she wore, that her skirts were too short or too long, too much cleavage, too little, too much makeup. I would have guessed you knew all about that: what with three sisters. But, mayhap, three was too many and you didn’t dare make any comment. Well, we don’t mind. We’ve got to do something different to keep the lockdown blues at bay.”

I didn’t leap to my feet – but I didn’t dawdle either.

Lin had the whole process arranged – not. The three piles of Go, Keep and Maybe were still central to the task – but too quickly much more than half was going into Maybe.

We struggled on until the Maybe pile was overflowing and fell over. The Go pile was outside her door in the main room. Once Out – Never Back was what Belle had decreed.

“Lin honey, you’re going to have to be a bit more brutal” said Jane.

“But I can’t do it as well as you can just by looking. There’s ones I like and I only need to lose a few pounds; there’s ones I like if I gain a few pounds. There’s ones that might work when I find the right thing. You know.”

“Come off it. A few pounds up or down – your weight has barely changed in two years. If we feed you cakes and chocolate – nothing happens. If you get on a mega-faddy diet – almost nothing happens. You tell us your boobs go up a size when you’re on the rag – but …” She looked at me to see if I had reacted to that rather personal piece of information.

“Don’t worry – even if it wasn’t always great having 3 sisters – so I do know what you mean and I’m not going to be upset. Tho’ I didn’t know some girls boobs went up by as much as a full size.”

“You’re going to understand why some of my bras have a green tag sewn in – they’re the bigger set.”

“I thought you said we weren’t going to be dealing with, um, everything.”

“Maybe not everything - but some of these are barely nothing,” chirped Belle.

This time it was Lin who blushed a bit. Then she giggled. “well, yeah, but they’re my bits of nearly nothing.”

The three girls did most of the work. I found myself mostly trying to keep things tidy while they hurled clothes hither and yon, especially after the Maybe pile fell over. The three sisters had after all taught me how to fold and tidy up for them – so it was a skill I found myself demonstrating for a wider audience than I had ever expected. Belle was the first to see what I was doing , and all three quickly showed their thanks.

Once or twice Jane or Belle picked an item from the Go pile to go from there to Maybe or from Maybe to Out. After a while I said to one or other – “wouldn’t that go with what you just took?”

It turned out that I was right twice and wrong twice. The relevant girl explained where and how I was right – or wrong. They all complimented me on being so willing to join in. Gradually, Lin was right in her forecast about girls telling stories about some of the clothes. One dress had a particularly smutty story about the time with a very hands-on pair of twins. And the same dress again, when Lin had unwittingly been taken to a girls-only club. One or two glances came my way – but I said nothing, they said nothing. As Lin and I had hoped – it was a learning experience. I did feel that I was getting some good indicators for how girls interacted. Why oh why couldn’t my sisters have been this generous.

We stopped for coffee and the second last packet of biscuits: rationed to two each maximum.

Jane said, “Right, I’m taking the Go pile away – out of sight, out of mind. I’m not going to break lockdown of course, but I’ll just get that pile gone.”

Lin pulled a face but eventually smiled.

Belle murmured “Jane, not too far away, I think I want two things out of that pile.”

“Well, get them now or as soon as possible and without Lin watching. There might be a chance some time later but then maybe not.”

Heather watched the pile go. Fortunately, there hadn’t been anything that she had been especially keen to have. And the extra risk of keeping a flatmate’s cast-offs was not reasonable.

“Okay, Belle, you hang up the Keep items – I’ll have another go later. Especially now that I can see what’s there. Jane and I’ll go through the Maybes once more – and Eric can say what he thinks.”

It was when we moved on to Belle’s wardrobe that I began to make mistakes. So much of the things she was getting rid of were almost exactly what I wanted. I hadn’t really noticed her wardrobe and style choice before. Certainly I hadn’t consciously thought ‘I like the way Belle dresses’.

Then it became more clear. “Why are you getting rid of so much, Bellie?”

“Previous boyfriend’s preference – not so much mine. Time for it all to go. It was quite expensive, so it didn’t immediately follow him out of the house. But – time has passed and no more, no more, hey.”

“But some of it’s so pretty.”

Three heads turned to look at the speaker. Unfortunately, the speaker was ME. Ooops.

“Pretty, hmm? And what exactly made you say that?”

If I had mostly avoided blushing in the past few days – I made up for it now.

There was a LONG silence ….
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Erica is the posh name for the plant Heather!