Transmitter wrote this terribly early in the morning:

The new jeans grab his balls in a way that he hasn’t felt in a long time. He wasn’t really comfortable then, and he still isn’t now. Still, the tightness makes him feel sexy.

He has a newfound swagger as he walks out of the dressing room. But, I can still see his hesitance underneath his new clothes. Or, maybe it’s his testicles being slowly pushed back inside of him.

On the shorter side of average and broad-shouldered, he doesn’t fit the new male image (we’re not allowed to say “metrosexual.” It isn’t 2005 after all.) I push the sale anyway. It’s all we have. I search for a compliment. You look 20 years younger? You look fantastic? You look taller? You look like the offspring of a rock star that mated with a boy band and crawled out of a pool of hair gel?

“These are on sale. I’ll hold them at the register for you. I have the perfect belt to pull it all together.” I reach for a piece of worn leather dangling from an over-sized chunk of metal, stamped with a PBR logo.

He checks out. I push the guilt away, hoping that his new purchases will sit in his closet, while he favors his over-washed jeans and threadbare t-shirts that he’s had since high school.


Transmitter wrote this just before lunchtime:

Bright Yellow Dress

The other day I was outside the changing rooms at Forever 21 waiting for my love to try on some clothes. And, as the name of the store implies, the regular clientele appear to be trapped more in a young mindset than a young body type. During the wait, a helpless girl needed assistance: “Does my ass hang out of this dress? Does the color look okay on me?”

She was trying on a short yellow party dress, bright, bright yellow. The contrast of the sunshine yellow against her fake-baked brown skin looked like corn kernals in shit. I wanted to tell her that no one will even notice her ass. I wanted to dive across the room (screaming “nooooo” in slow motion) and save her from a terrible fashion faux pas. I wanted to stop the sales people that came to her aid from telling her that she looked great in it.

Instead I just sat there and tried not to cry. I am weak. I should have helped her.