Chapter Three How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, dir. by Donald Petrie
Even after wrestling with his hair for an hour, Eli still isn’t happy with the results.
Maybe it’s a sign that this night is over before it even begins. How can a date possibly go right if he can’t even get his
hair to cooperate?
“You’re making excuses.” He can hear his mother’s voice in his head. Well, it’s more a twisted combination of his mother, Patricia, Rose, and a little
bit of Keith thrown in there for good measure. As if he couldn’t feel worse about himself.
And it annoys him to no end knowing that they’re all right.
He’s trying to achieve that perfect balance of looking both messy and neat all at once. Patricia calls it his Timothée Chal-ification. The curls had been one
of the more unexpected changes from the testosterone; his once-wavy hair began to grow in tighter curls that he actually had
to take care of and maintain if he wanted them to stay healthy. He’d listened to Patricia talk for hours about her own hair
care, wrapping it at night, watching every video she sent his way about the proper shampoos, conditioners, masks, silk pillowcases.
“Dammit...” he whispers to himself as his hair continues to fall flat across his forehead.
He doesn’t have time for this. The day has been stressful enough already, fielding Michael’s potential cronyism hire and sitting in to conduct the interview for the job Eli had been promised. There’d been a moment halfway through when he considered sabotaging the entire thing, but he knew that
wouldn’t get him anywhere he wanted to be.
Then countless meetings followed about IT issues and a few budget discussions, during which Eli was fairly certain Michael
admitted to committing tax fraud. And it was all capped off by Eli having to explain to one of his older coworkers what Ctrl+F
does. Needless to say, by the time five came around, he was ready for the day to be over.
But it couldn’t be. Not until tonight was done and he’d proven Patricia and Rose wrong.
The entire bus ride home was spent doing math in his head to figure out if he had enough time to shower, brush his teeth,
do his hair, and pick out an outfit he’d actually want to wear tonight.
Despite it all, there’s this desire to impress. Eli’s mother had instilled in him the belief that you only get one first impression,
and while he tended to disagree with just how often she considered other people’s opinions of her, he was inclined to agree.
It’ll be fine , Eli tells himself. He can’t even explain the anxiety; it’s not like he’s worried about impressing Peter, not at all . He keeps telling himself that it doesn’t matter, that tonight doesn’t mean anything, that he’s just doing it to get Rose
and Patricia off his back.
Even if he does want it to go well.
He doesn’t like how often his eyes have drifted to his phone over the past few days, silently hoping to see a notification
from the newest addition to his contacts. Just standing here trying to tame his hair, he’s stopped every time the screen lit
up, only to be disappointed.
The first time, it was Rose in their apartment group chat, asking Patricia what their dinner plans were. The next three times
were all emails from Michael about things that certainly could’ve waited until Monday.
He’d talked to Peter just long enough to decide on a place to eat and something to do. After that? Radio silence.
Eli wants to text Peter. Ask him about his day, his family, his interests. Though he supposes that would defeat the purpose
of the blind part of this blind date. Not that it matters anyway. But Eli’s last message is the one that hangs there, unanswered.
Eli: have you seen knives out?
The AMC Kabuki in Japantown decided to bring the movie back as a Fall Vibes celebration, complete with $5 tickets, and Eli’s
been dying to see it on the big screen again. He figures it’s funny enough to be a good first date movie.
But there was no answer. The text had been read. Because Peter is apparently masochistic enough to leave on his read receipts.
He just didn’t bother to answer it.
It’s okay , he repeats to himself. That’s the point of the blind date. To get to know each other. To start from zero and work our way up. Why am I worried?
Tonight’s going to be okay, he’s just catastrophizing.
It’s going to be fun, dammit.
Which Eli would feel so much more confident about if he could just get his hair to cooperate. Frustrated, Eli yanks on the cord of the hair dryer
so quickly that the plug comes free of the outlet, flying right into his face.
“Shit!” he hisses, almost dropping the hair dryer on the floor and then going to the mirror to make sure he isn’t bleeding.
Thankfully, only the plastic part seems to have struck him, which causes a pink mark to appear right in the middle of his
forehead, but his hair is long enough to hide it.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Patricia rushes over, bracing her hands on either side of the doorframe.
“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Eli promises her. “I just can’t get my hair right.”
“You’ve been in here for like an hour. I thought you didn’t care about tonight.”
“I don’t,” he promises. Eli picks up the hair dryer and plugs it back in. “I just want to make a good first impression. Plus
you and Rose seem to want this to go well, so...”
“ Just me and Rose?” she asks with an eyebrow raised curiously.
“Shut up.”
It’s been years since he felt those first-date jitters, that weird fluttering in his stomach that makes him cough to the point
that he wants to vomit. Like his body is searching for an excuse to not go out. For all he knows, Peter is a serial killer,
and this is all some elaborate scheme to kidnap and butcher Eli.
It was easier with Keith because their relationship began with a hook-up first, and nerves couldn’t be as bad after they’d already seen each other naked. What else is there to hide at that point? Keith knew what he was getting
into; he’d seen the faded scars on Eli’s chest, Eli’s vagina, the bottom growth that had resulted from being on testosterone.
There was a moment, shedding his clothing that first night, where he considered being ashamed of his body, worried that Keith
might be grossed out.
But Eli had spent too much time as a teen hating every photo of himself. After he’d spent all of his own savings paired (generously)
with help from his mother and stepfather, and their insurance, he knew he should never look at his body as anything other
than a work of art. Because it was, because he’d gotten the chance to make it himself.
Of course, he could do without the body hair that sprouted along his stomach, chest, and ass. God, the ass hair. But he liked
it, in an odd way. It made him feel more...
More like Eli.
And he’d felt so proud of himself.
So was Keith, because he’d called Eli every name he’d ever wanted to hear from another man’s mouth. To Keith, Eli was beautiful,
perfect, good, handsome, gorgeous. Even if Keith didn’t think it now, it was true then, and that was enough to make Eli’s
stomach twist.
Shit. He can’t think of that right now, he can’t get all worked up over one man right before he’s literally about to go out with
another.
“What are you going to wear?” Patricia asks him, taking the nail file she’s been holding and going back to shaping the acrylics
she’ll spend her night painting and applying. “Picked out an outfit yet?”
“I had some ideas,” Eli replies. “But I hate all of them now.” He huffs when his hair falls flat. Again.
“Okay, I’ve had enough of this.” Patricia sets the nails and her file on the back of the toilet before she steps out into
the hallway. “Rose! You’re needed!”
“Where are you going?” Eli asks.
“To rummage through your clothes,” she tells him with a sly smile.
“I’ve been summoned?” Rose appears, dressed down for her Friday night in. She’s already dedicated most of her evening to lesson
planning in an effort to get ahead of the weekend, hair mask and under-eye strips already on for the night.
Eli takes the curl serum and the hair dryer and presents them to her. “Help me?”
“Sit.” She motions to the toilet, and Eli does just that, closing his eyes as Rose blasts his hair again, then uses her fingers
to work through to the roots before she turns the hair dryer back on. Patricia might’ve taught him about taking care of his hair, but Rose worked at her mom’s hair salon all through high school and college, so she has
the experience. Despite all of her searching across the city, Patricia has yet to find anyone else she trusts to braid her
hair other than Rose.
When Eli opens his eyes again, he sees Rose mouthing something, but over the sound of the hair dryer, she’s totally inaudible.
“What?” he shouts.
The hair dryer cuts off. “I said, are you excited for tonight?”
“Oh...” Eli pauses, wondering the answer to that question himself. “I don’t know, actually.”
“What has—” Rose begins to ask before the hair dryer is flipped back on, and the rest of her words are totally lost.
“What are you saying?” Eli shouts again.
The hair dryer shuts off again. “Worried!”
“What?” Eli doesn’t like repeating himself, but he has zero clue what Rose just said.
“I asked, what has you so worried?”
He probably should’ve figured that out. “I don’t actually know, I just feel—”
Rose kicks the hair dryer back on, and this time, Eli just reaches up and switches it off for her.
She winces. “Sorry.”
“I guess I just feel anxious. It’s been a long time since I went on a first date.”
“It’s a lot of pressure, huh?” Rose sets the hair dryer down, teasing Eli’s hair again.
“Yeah...”
“You never dated anyone before Keith?” she asks.
“No. Between the gender dysphoria and trying to pass geometry, it wasn’t exactly my highest priority.” Eli hangs his head.
“What about you?”
“Oh, you know. You’re away from your parents for the first time, you start doing all these crazy things because you can. I
wanted all these lesbian experiences that I’d never gotten as a teen,” Rose explains. “God, there was this one girl I dated,