1:46pm Saturday - David
I might be the smartest woman alive.
Well…I don't know if I can call myself a woman yet…or probably ever…it kinda feels like stolen valor just to think it in the privacy of my own mind palace.
But for the joke…I'm the smartest woman alive (terms and conditions apply).
Right now it's just Gavin here chilling in my apartment. Lanky, smooth and unflappable Gavin. Wearing his trademark beanie, and the most comfortable looking clothes seen outside of a sleepover. And he is hella skilled, skilled enough for my machinations. And he has a wicked streak when it comes to dares and competitions, wicked enough for those same machinations. All I need to do is pick some "punishment" and his competitiveness will guarantee I will get it. I'll play hard for a few rounds to make it look realistic, but if he's on his game it might be over before I need to punt.
This is the greatest idea I ever had ever since I learned that the estrogens in soy food aren't bio-identical to the human ones and eating nothing but that doesn't induce any kind of change in humans besides scurvy.
"Yo, Gavin. Wanna do something exciting? Or would you rather just chill and listen to the the background jazz some more?" People keep on saying it's music to have sex to any time they visit and I've left it on, but I don't think I could ever get down while some dweeb tooted on a brass instrument, it just sounded as silly as a penis looked.
Gavin looked at me, his face as unreadable as ever and I hope he was thinking about if I could be trusted to not rig a contest to unseat him as champion.
"…" Gavin agreed silently, barely moving his head in a nod. The only way I could spot the movement was the beanie he was wearing jiggled a lot more than the rest of him when he moved.
I pulled out an old favourite: darts. The wall behind the couch was covered in several plywood boards to protect the delicate landlord-single-layer-of-paint-that-was-somehow-worth-eleven-times-it's-weight-in-gold. The darts board hung on the single stud we'd fastened to the middle board and we took our marks at the opposite end of the room with the television off to the side (out of harm's way, provided no one had been drinking).
I took my favorite darts, the blue ones, and lined up my shots.
"First to be ahead by 100 points after a round wins?" It was our normal condition for victory, if people were equally skilled a game could go on for hours. It ended up becoming more of a challenge in endurance than skill, but I planned to let Gavin build up a thirty to forty point lead and then sink a hand of ones to all be guarantee my loss.
Twenty, triple twenty, triple fifteen.
That was better than normal. I was aiming for the two and missed into fifteen. One hundred and twenty five for a first round play is very good by my standards.
"Also, stakes. I forgot to mention what we're playing for."
Gavin took his mark and looked to me to continue, his expression cool and collected like always. This was going to be such a sneaky victory making him an unwitting partner in my scheme.
"Loser has to dress up like a girl for a day."
Gavin looked thrilled…wait no…terrified. His hands were shaking, and his face had gone entirely pale like someone had just revealed some deep secret he'd been keeping hidden.
"…sure. Any challenge, I can meet it." Gavin's normally cool and quiet voice sounded strained. I wanted to reassure him, let him know it was cool if he needed a moment to calm his nerves. But he looked like if I touched him he'd crumble into a pile of bones or burst into flames.
One.
I don't think I'd ever seen Gavin score less than thirty in a single throw.
But one? That's such a fluke.
Another one.
Wait…
Gavin's shaking was getting worse. His whole body looked like he was having a fit. If he was: that was great. Not great from a health perspective, I could barely remember my first aid training on the best of days. But great in that he'd have an excuse for his performance and I would happily give him a do over.
Wait…that's not what I was thinking. Mathematically I think I already won.
The highest value thing on the board is the triple twenty. The max he can throw now is a sixty two. He's got such a battle getting back in this game. I might accidentally win, I'm not good enough to hit the high numbers on purpose, let alone hit the low ones.
As long as he can get a double twelve or better he's got a chance to make a comeback. I've never seen Gavin lose a game of darts.
Five.
Ohh.
"Ohh."
I look at Gavin with horror. I didn't mean to do this. He didn't need this. He was just chilling and listening to jazz and now I'm duty bound to use social pressures to force him to wear a dress.
If he looks good in it I'm going to suddenly develop pyrophoric properties from jealousy and combust. If it's not terrible he might even challenge me back to exact revenge, which I'm hoping for a little. Or a lot actually. I really did want an excuse to wear a dress. I don't think I would ever look good, so I've been terrified to try one on. If I looked as bad as I've seen some women, when they put on something that ill fits them I think I would lose all confidence in ever calling myself a woman outside of a joke.