You want to believe

The fabulous vision of ordering some random fit tomboy to lift up her shirt and then glutting yourself on her abs plays in your mind.

Whew. It’s been a while since you got hard thinking about something other than Cori.

It’s a juvenile fantasy, the kind of softcore wet dream you had more when you were younger. You’ve long matured passed lusting after impossible daydreams. Things like this are only workable with an adventurous, non-judgemental girlfriend who also does swim sports.

Or are they?

No, no, of course it’s impossible.

Unless…

You’re fatigued. Your brain isn’t working. If it was, you wouldn’t even entertain the thought. Granted, the Cult of Tomboy is a thing, and all tomboys are adherents to the Tomboy Code, but that doesn’t mean what it says in one dusty old tome is ground truth for all tomboys.

What if you have an older, unrevised edition of their holy text including apocryphal sections? What if your neophyte literal interpretation is patently incorrect? Might a real tomboy tell you it’s all a mystical allegory, that tomboys trust their spiritual bodies to the Master Trainer in a metaphorical sense?

What if you ask a random tomboy to lift up her shirt so you can glut yourself on her abs, and she does it, because you’re the Master Tomboy?

You groan. You’re deluding yourself, but you want to believe. Because if it’s true - and you’re not saying it is - then… then… tomboys!

12-year-old you would have a heart attack if he were in your shoes, your inner child is wishing so hard it were all true.

Have you really lost all sense of wonder that you’ll refuse to find out where the truth lies? Okay, fine. You’ll do it. You’ll buy the lottery ticket. You’re not going to win, but at least for a second, you can let yourself enjoy the what if.

Through a fog of fatigue, you consider how to test the hypothesis. Logically speaking, the first step would be to find a tomboy - being the Master Tomboy means nothing by itself. Now, you know plenty of tomboys, but what are you going to do? Walk up to one and ask, “How big of a deal do you think I am?” What if being the Master Tomboy doesn't mean half of what you read it as? You’d embarrass yourself.

Mom is a true believer, so you could talk to her, but would her confirming her and Dad’s story prove anything? And if you tried revealing your Master Tomboyness to your cousin Max, you might never live it down. And Cori? You’ve spent months trying to move on from Cori. Bringing something like this to her would require levels of backsliding as of yet only theorized by science.

Though the alternative of interrogating a stranger about her deeply held religious beliefs doesn’t sound like such a great idea either...

A hundred options and none of them good. But you already told yourself you’re doing this. No backing out now.