Sitting in a dim lit bar, John prattled on about the breakup with his latest girlfriend. They had only been together a little over five weeks, a personal record for him, but he wasn’t taking the split very well. To her credit, at least his ex-girlfriend ended the relationship in person. The previous two broke up with him over the phone, one via voice mail. On some level, it was progress.

“I don’t know what I did wrong,” he complained. “So what if I’ve been with a lot of women.”

“Didn’t you start dating her before you broke up with the one before?” I asked.

He shot a stern look in my direction and said, “You’re not helping.”

As John slammed back another round of tequila, I sipped from the shot glass in front of me. He was on his third drink, I on my first. Something told me he was going to need to be carried out of the bar before the night was through. Better it was his best friend than the bouncer. Before John ordered a fresh glass, the bartender placed a fresh shot in front me and pointed to a woman at the end of the bar.

“Don’t mind if I do,” John said, downing the gifted shot. “She’s not bad looking.”

“Then it’s a good thing she bought that for me,” I replied. “Try not to fall off your stool while I’m gone.”

Oblivious to the flirtations of others, I usually didn’t recognize the subtle hints made by interested women, though found it impossible to ignore the overture of a free drink.

I elbowed my way through the crowd and walked to the opposite side of the room. Customers from a neighboring restaurant had spilled into the bar an hour earlier making the place more crowded than usual. It was a regular spot for John and I. We knew all the bartenders and most of the regulars. The woman was neither. Although the attraction towards her wasn’t immediate, there was something about her appearance that seemed familiar, as if I had seen her while bar hopping with my friends.

After introducing myself, I sat down beside her and waved to the bartender to refill our drinks. Nervous, she twirled her shoulder length chestnut hair, obscuring her face with her hand. The class ring worn on her hand had a familiar insignia engraved on its side. Two of my aunts graduated from the same Catholic high school, which closed its doors before I was born.

“Family heirloom?” I asked, pointing to the ring. “That school hasn’t been open in years.”

“I’m older than I look,” she whispered.

“No worries. Age is only a number.”

I wrapped my arm around the back of her chair and leaned closer. The faint wisp of her perfume was recognized as the same brand worn by my mother. It was an image that deflated my horniness. When I pulled back to clear the scent from my nose, I ran my fingers up her back and noticed she wasn’t wearing a bra. Hopeful that she wasn’t wearing panties either, I knocked back another shot of tequila to summons enough liquid courage to ask her about it.

“Going commando?” I asked.

“As a matter of fact I am, but…” she said with a sigh. “But there’s something you need to know.”

When she turned to face me, I looked deep into her eyes. It took a few seconds before I noticed the familiar Adam’s apple of my father. It had been several years since we saw one another so I wasn’t prepared for all the changes that had taken place. Uncertain how to tell me, he thought sending a drink in my direction was the most subtle way. Shocked, I stop listening while he explained all the reasons behind his decision. It wasn’t until he stopped talking that I realized I missed whether he was crossdressing or if the physical changes were permanent. Nervous, I reached towards him and blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“Dad, you grew boobs.”

“And a vagina too.”

“I guess that means I’m not getting any tonight.”

“Of course not, son. I don’t put out on the first date.”