So, let me set the scene. I am nude for the first time since I became a woman, near the pool where I used to love hanging out nude with Mindy and Marge.
My best friend is having an autism meltdown because I decided at the last minute to come to the non-landed club, specifically to get more dancing lessons from Gabriella.
Whom I call Mrs. Sanchez outside this place.
My parents and my best friend's parents are in the pool, probably talking about how my dance coach and social studies teacher wants to run as president of this club. Oh, and my sister's social worker is with them.
No one is paying attention to us yet, but just as Marge's volume is inversely proportional to her seriousness when calm, it is exponentially proportional to her emotion levels when triggered.
And she is triggered.
Now, I know how to calm her. I do! I have done so numerous times. Hey, I even did so when we were dressed, when she was the only one nude, when I was the only one nude, or when both were nude.
I even managed to do it when I was under heavy brain fog from Ritalin.
What I didn't do is try to calm her down when I was myself on the verge of a panic attack, because I never wanted to show my ugly, deformed body to my best friend. Not until I would have lost a lot more weight.
My parent, strangers, my dance coach? Sure. But Marge?
So Marge exploded. Saying words that neurotypical people would regret, but which Marge expressed with careless abandon. Words like "bitch" , or "treason", or "hate". Words that, I knew, weren't serious. They were avatars to represent her internal turmoil.
I knew they weren't serious, but it doesn't mean that emotionally, they didn't stab me.
I was recoiling in pain, with serious cramps, and no, I was not about to have my first period. I was just experiencing the whiplash from a serious personality-forming complicity moment with Gabriella, floating on clouds and being anchored down on hell, in front of an angry autistic teenager.
How did I think that I could do this? How did I believe that I knew how to handle Marge?
I could because until now, I wasn't the cause of her anger, and now, I was.
And the only reason I wasn't afraid of shitting my pants in fear is that I wasn't wearing any pants.
To their credit, eight adults left the pool and rushed to our side.
Yes, 8. My parents, Marge's parents, Gabriella and her husband, and Carmen and her husband.
I might not be able to disarm this, but surely, one of these adults would know how to handle this, and then, perhaps, how to handle me.
To my surprise, it's Gabriella who took charge. Fine, Ellie did; she is the one who was now leaning over Marge, hugging her and telling her that everything will be alright.
What Gabriella did was come over to bring me aside to help me.
Why did my parents not react? I think they were as stunned as I was. I think that Carmen said it best later. They could see that Marge needed help. That Ellie, and soon, Richard, would need help with their daughter.
But Marge's emotional outburst was loud enough, and I was freezing.
My parents are used to my flight or fight response to be in the fight zone, and that evening, I froze. It happens; we are not a monolith. I will fight anyone attacking me, but not Marge. I love her too much to yell at her because her autism triggered her. I know, deep down, it's not her fault.
So, I let Gabriella pull me away. I know my dad followed, whispering something to my mom. I even have a good idea of what he said. Probably something like "I'll take care of Julie; you take care of Ellie".
Gabriella grabbed my hand, and my father, the other. They pulled me into the nearest changing room, the man's in this case. So not the one with our clothes.
I ended up laying my towel on the bench, and they both sat on it too. I supposed that the protocol didn't matter as much.
"Marge was already on the verge of exploding before we showed up", said my dad, putting his hand over my shoulder.
"Why?"
"I don't know, Sugar. I don't think anyone does. Maybe it's premenstrual syndrome. Perhaps she slept badly. Potentially she got rejected by someone she wanted to date. On plenty of things, Marge doesn't open up, not even to Ellie."
"I know. I know she had two relationships; I only know her first boyfriend's name. I have no idea who the second was"
"I don't think Ellie knows either. Marge is, well, closing up."
"I wasn't there for her"
"No, Sugar. This isn't your fault. You said so; she didn't tell you of her second boyfriend. Even without autism, some teenagers close up, and that's fine. I know Charlie and Edith went to a restaurant and will go see a movie. But I don't know which restaurant and which movie. And that's fine. Marge is building her identity, but she was already on edge before she even saw you"
"Maybe, but I pushed her over the edge"
It's Gabriella who spoke up then without touching me.
"Julie, sometimes when we change, the people who knew us before don't know how to handle it. Marge probably just missed you. Seeing you like you used to be might have caused an emotional overload in her. I seem to have heard her complain that you didn't tell her. But if you do want to go to the club, do it for you, not for her, not for your parents, not even for me. Do it when you feel ready, and trust that she will be too. But you know, sometimes, we only feel ready after we've taken the first step. Waiting for the perfect moment can become a way of avoiding life."
I look at her. I can't even begin to understand where this stupid advice comes from. I guess that she had only partial information. If Marge isn't even one of her students, she might not even fully understand that she is autistic.
The problem isn't that I came without talking to her. Marge doesn't handle change well, and I didn't prepare her about possibly meeting me nude at the club.
But I can cut Gabriella some slack. She is trying. She is kind, and her advice came from a place of love.
"I think you touched it a little, Gabriella. Marge has a problem with change, so when I made a change to her routine by coming here, it caused her some insecurities. But I didn't come for her, and not even for you. I came for me. So I could dance and love my body a little more. I think I will wait for Ellie and the gang to calm her down and talk to her in the bleachers. Can you guys send her my way when she has calmed down? I have some thinking to do"
"About Marge?" said my dad.
"No, about me. I used to be a naturist. I am nude at a naturist club. Is this what I want to do, or did I come for the wrong reasons?"
"Whatever you decide, Sugar, we'll support you"
"So will I," says Gabriella.
I don't know what took me, but I hugged my father, and then I hugged her, which I think surprised her.
They left. I took my towel and went to the bleachers, seeing people play badminton.
To my surprise, I didn't know most of these people. It's like there was a whole rotation of members since I last came. Wait, I can see Billy's father playing doubles with an older dude.
I sat on what I think is the same seat as the last time I spoke with Marge. I might be one or two seats away, but I am in the right row. That I know.
I think about why I loved naturism. The freedom, the friends, the simplicity. You get to bed nude, wake up, and don't fear running into your family while nude because... they are also nude!
I know why I stopped. My body changed in a direction I didn't want it to go, but I was getting back. I was losing weight.
And I had been able, somewhat, to look at myself dancing nude. Seeing my breast move as I did, seeing my stomach change shape as I turned, folded, or stretched.
I could see, under the fat, the attempts to reach out of a gracious, thin girl.
Maybe I should listen to her, not to my fears.
I was halfway convinced to try more naturism when I heard a throat being cleared.
I turned my head and saw Marge with a towel on her shoulder.
"Is there room for me next to you?"
I smiled. "There is even room for your head on my shoulder, should you need to."
But she stood her ground. "I am sorry"
"You don't need to apologize. I do"
"Damn right you do. You know I don't like change without being warned"
"It was a last-minute decision, Marge. I didn't plan this"
"That sounds like the Julie I know", she said, laughing.
"You look better"
"Don't think I am not mad anymore. I am just calm.", she says, putting her towel next to me and then sitting on it. She doesn't put her head on my shoulder.
"I get that. I should have told you Saturday morning that I was considering it, even if then, I thought the chance was, like, 2%"
"You should have", she said, but I can sense that she is tense.
"I feel like it's more than about tonight"
"D'uh"
"Can you explain it to me?"
"You should understand it; you aren't on your stupid pill anymore"
"It's not stupid. It helped me; it just was too hard"
"It's a pill that made you stupid. It's not the pill that is stupid.", she said.
"Hey"
"If you don't know why I said that, maybe we aren't friends anymore", she says.
My mind rushes. I try to get back to what she said.
And suddenly, it flashes in my mind.
"You told me that nudity made you feel safe. That nude people made you feel safe"
But Marge hits me on the shoulder. "That's Edith, dumbass. Your sister"
"Shit, you are right. The pill did make me stupid. I don't know what to tell you, Marge. You are my friend. My best friend. You are the only person I could be calm with"
"No, that was Olivia", she said, with a ton of disgust when saying the words.
"Ok, no, Olivia was my tutor, and then I was her tutor. We became friends of convenience. She doesn't even know about naturism"
"You weren't even a naturist; I am not even sure you are one now"
"Good point, Marge."
"I am lost, Julie. I don't know what to do with love and sex"
I laugh. "Marge, my desires are not even booted up yet! How do you think I can help you with that?"
"Do you have a brother? Are you autistic?"
"No on both, you know that"
"Then how could you help me with that if you don't know what it's like to be autistic or to have a brother?"
I look at her.
"I..."
"Julie, friends don't help you because they know stuff. They help you because they know you. "
"Wow, that's wise, Marge," I tell her.
"Well, it's not from me. It's from Dave's mom"
"Right, your first boyfriend", I said.
"Well, he called himself my boyfriend and called me his girlfriend, and it's not like I argued with him. But I don't think I was ready for dating"
"You had told me, right as I began my pill, that you didn't know if you could date someone"
"Exactly. Dave was nice, and I think I saw Edith with Charlie, and I was hoping he could be my Edith. You know?"
"I think I do. Edith sort of helped calm Charlie. Like it was reassuring him or something"
"Wait, is that what's happening?" says Marge.
"Well, I always thought that Charlie was acting out to get attention and that Edith's attention helped calm him down"
Mindy made a weird noise with her mouth. I don't know how to describe it. Like she was thinking so hard she didn't control her mouth?
"That's why Dave didn't help me. Because I don't need attention. I need understanding," says Marge.
"Like what I do with you?"
"Yeah. I need my partner to understand me, and I need to understand them. I never understood Dave"
"There you go. Maybe it's why you aren't sure he was your boyfriend. Was your next one better?"
"I only had one boyfriend, Julie"
"Marge, I know you dated someone else; I just didn't know whom"
"Yeah, Jennifer"
I look at her. "Wait, your friend Jennifer? She was your girlfriend? But, I never saw anything between you!"
"Of course, I don't do public displays of affection. Dave never understood that. Jennifer did"
"So you are bisexual? "
"I don't think so"
"So you are gay? You only date women now?"
"No I think I am grayromantic or something, and sometimes hypersexual"
"Ok, I don't know the first one, and I am not sure of the second one"
"I don't think it exists. Like, there is a term, graysexual. It means that you mainly feel sexual attraction when you are in love with someone. Demisexual is weaker; you only feel attraction when in love with someone. I didn't imagine dating Jennifer at all. I didn't find anything attractive in women. But you weren't there, she was, and well, she didn't want me as a friend. She wanted to date me. And I think I can date someone when there is a connection or something?"
"So she is gay?"
"Full on. Don't out her please"
"Of course not, Marge. So, you got close, and being grayromantic made it possible?"
"Well, not so much graysexual, more like being close already made it possible to date her. I can't explain it more. I don't think I could date anyone I wasn't already close to and who didn't clearly express their desire to date me."
"Like Dave, who was madly in love with you before you even saw him"
"Yeah. Like him, Jennifer too. It's no coincidence that they are my two exes. I would need to someone to really pull all the stops to try and date me so I could even consider it"
"Hey, I am proud of you for having figured that out. I only ever felt some level of attraction to one person"
"Mr. Cook?"
"You knew?"
"I wasn't emotionally numb, Julie. You were"
"Right. So the only people who clearly wanted to date you, you dated them."
"Oh, there were others. I just didn't feel it. They need to be close and express it clearly, but I still need to feel it."
"Wow, you are popular"
"Huh, I guess so. People tell me that I am hot. And because I am sometimes hypersexual, they see me as easy"
"Wait, what is that one?"
"Well, because I don't understand relationships that much, I am willing to have casual sex. Most girls keep that for a relationship. Apparently, being willing to have sex casually means I am hypersexual, or so I was told."
Now, I couldn't help her at the non-landed club. I didn't know the term. But when I got some time the next day, I did google hypersexual, and I realized that either Marge's problem was much more serious than she let on, or someone accused her of something she wasn't. Well, it was the latter. Marge doesn't have uncontrollable sexual compulsions. She just doesn't fully understand how dating works, and since she needs a pre-existing connection to date someone, she agrees to have some sexual activities with people who are friendly with her but not dating her yet. And this is how it began with Dave and, later, with Jennifer. Those are the two cases in which casual sex led to a relationship. But there are cases it didn't.
Much later, I came up with an even better explanation, but since by then, I will be away at university and only video calling Marge, I will tell you now!
When someone wants to date, they have multiple cards they can use to appeal to others. Their humor, their intelligence, their empathy, or perhaps some wit or something. Marge doesn't have a lot of those tools, and those she has, like humor, she isn't able to know how to apply them to seduce someone. She is funny when inspiration strikes but can't be funny on demand.
What she does have is sex appeal and, well, sexuality. By offering casual sex, she can sort of fish people to get closer to her.
I wouldn't recommend it to most girls. It's the perfect recipe to be used and abused. But for Marge, it had worked twice by then and will work more later.
Like, if I did that, I would get seriously hurt if I had sex with someone who later discarded me. But Marge doesn't get attached until much later in the process. In a way, I envy her on that level. Fewer chances to be hurt!
We talked some more. Dave was a great boyfriend until he wasn't. Jennifer was a great girlfriend, but she was frustrated by Marge's emotional limitations.
My biggest shock wasn't the differences between dating a man and a woman, but how similar it was, at least in Marge's mind. I didn't see that coming. I mean, I figured that sex was very different, so I assumed that relationships would be too.
But Marge also asked about me. How I was. How school went. She asked about my dance lessons.
One thing I love about Marge is that when she asks you a question, usually, not always, but usually, she will fully listen to the answer. Sometimes, I think it's because she doesn't ask polite questions. You know, like when an adult asks you, "How's school?" and they get bored if you answer anything other than "great". If Marge asks you a question, she wants the answer.
Near the end, when the people were removing the nets, however, she put her foot down.
"I can't have you claim to be my best friend and not be it."
"I get that," I told her.
"I have needs"
"So do I. I was away; I don't want to be away anymore. I don't want to just parallel play like when I was on the pill"
"Good. I still want that, but I need more. I can't just isolate myself. I need to socialize, and I need my best friend to help me."
"I will do that"
"I need sleepovers", she says.
"I miss those to"
"I need you to be nude at your house again so I can be nude. The rules were that you were usually nude at your home, and I could be too, and now, when I visit you, you are dressed, and I don't know whether I can be nude or not"
This took me my surprise. It was years ago, and she still was hung up on it. That's Marge for you...
"I'll try. This was my first nude experience since I stopped."
"For real?"
"Yeah. I wasn't just dressed when you came back; I couldn't even look at myself in the mirror"
Marge seems confused, perhaps even worried.
"What's wrong?"
"I feel like I should give you a hug, but we aren't supposed to touch each other at the club"
"Do you want to give me a hug?"
"Not really. I don't like touching"
I laugh. "Says the girl who calls herself sometimes hypersexual"
"It's not the same thing"
"I know, I know. Yes, a hug would have felt nice, Marge. I will take your offer if as if you had given me a hug. It's the thought that counts"
"That's a lot of bullshit, but thank you.", says Marge.
It appears that my goal, both for my well-being and my relationship with my best friend, implied more naturism.
And after a couple of hours, I was ready to try for more.
I did get a hug from Marge at the end of the evening, but outside, once dressed.