Bar Mitzvah for J.

So I was on the bus coming back from my second attempt to acquire my Roman Religion course packet. It’s actually my third attempt if you count when the Greatest Boyfriend In The World tried to get one for me but he claimed there was only one left so he made me sit REALLY close and read over his shoulder. Prof. Giant says that one time a couple made out in his Golden Age lecture and I wonder if maybe they were supposed to be sharing a book and just got a little out of control… Not like we did that in Roman Religion, of course. I’m just saying.

Anyway, I was on the bus coming back to school when I ran into J. This is NOT the admirer of the Supergirl thong, but an old friend, and a subletter when I went to England. When I first met J., he had a girl’s name because he was, you know, a girl.

He’s started testosterone about 2 years ago. I haven’t seen him in about a year, since that first stage with weird pubescent facial hair and that squeaky voice. So I did a double take when I saw a young man calling my name. I was comepletely shocked when I realized he doesn’t walk like a girl anymore.

Emily Post doesn’t really have any etiquette rules for this situation, but I opted against “Hey, J.! Looks like second puberty turned out great for you!”

We caught up a bit before I had to leave for class. (Without my books, but I suppose I’ll make that rant another day) Then he said “It was good to see you. Maybe I’ll give you a call sometime.”

Congratulations, J. Your transition to manhood is complete.

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