Hermaphrodite

I'd seen her in the pub from time to time - shortish height, slightly awkward jerky movements not quite to be called boyish like her haircut, indeterminate of age - a worn sixteen; an undeveloped twenty-six? but in a year or two, she seemed the latter though her vulnerable, aggressive stance made age irrelevant. had she been more confident, more inyerface she'd have been lesbait, no doubt of that; I felt uncomfortable around her, as you do, however kind, around those who have not yet resolved their life. but she didn't pose her boyishness; wore her trousers without pride; didn't give off that lesbian vibe. she might almost have been the girl in the girls' school play who was as tomboy told to play the boy and who wore the clothes and hated it. then she started coming in with her quiet, steady boyfriend; sometimes with their dog; she seemed more relaxed. I gave her no more thought; was faintly happy for her, I found. so there I was one day, pissing off twice the amount of beer I'd drunk - strange, isn't it? - in the Gents; the door opens, in she walks, stands two urinals away and does her thing - I guessed... well, no, I didn't take a closer look - for she was challenging me to respond. And I didn't have a response. I'd never seen her doing that before; maybe my age suited her for a role in some sad psychodrama of her unhappy life, I, cast, perhaps, as proxy father, uncle, teacher, godknowswhat.. I didn't respond; nor did sex raise its tumescent head; in fact I'd say, rather the reverse. Of course she couldn't have known that English boarding school, ages seven to twenty-one (for the really thick and desperate) , equips you with a knowledge of acquired hermaphroditism of an innocent yet knowing kind - beyond, I'd guess, the experience of many a born hermaphrodite... to please your hero man at any price in any vice; we called them 'fags'; it's the official term, and snigger-free; then later, play the macho game of picking the most beautiful new boy to be your 'fag'; flirt publicly, ...to show that it's not serious or queer... and if you take it further, well, that's your concern, just don't get found out; or if you want to really win repute, date the housemaid simultaneously... I let her leave that restless restroom first, it seemed fitting, in my determined, neutral state; yet it left a sense of many serious matters of the human heart unexplored; unresolved.