Bonding with my Family.

Bonding over clothing, although true and as silly as it sounded, it was probably the biggest half truth of them all.

When I was born a male, my family became the center of attention for the entire city for a brief time. My parents were inundated with constant visitors (family and otherwise), requests to have pictures taken with me, questions upon questions, etc. My eldest sister, Maria, confirmed that it was fairly hectic at that time (she was 6 when I was born).

After a while, the attention calmed down and eventually died off. It helped that another male had been born a few years later. Mom and Mother never fully recovered from that stressful time (Maria has admitted to me in private that she thinks it was the cause of Mom’s drinking problem). As a result, we were always a very tight-knit family. Friends were discouraged by my parents and so they always came up with very creative ways to keep us involved and entertained with just the family.

We always had the latest video games, we went on trips to go skiing/snowboarding, hiking, travelling and shopping! Lots of shopping! We would often plan our trips around what major shopping malls were in close proximity. We would go to the mall and try on all kinds of clothes and model for each other.

Later in life, as each of us turned 18 years old, we had found new ways of bonding as our sexual immaturity was at a point where we were increasingly curious and it had become progressively more difficult to ignore what was so clearly happening in our parent’s bedroom…

“AHEM.”

I jumped a bit, startled by the sudden noise coming from right in front of me. Alex was holding the elevator door open and was tapping her foot impatiently while she waited for me.

“Just in the front door and I’m already making myself out to be an excellent candidate for the job.” I thought to myself sarcastically.

“Sorry!” I quickly apologized and stepped in beside her, “I was uh… just, thinking.”

“Do you do that a lot?” She asked.

“No! … er… I mean of course, but not like that…?” I said it like it was a question.

Alex laughed, “So, you think, but not like that. Tell me, how exactly DO you think?”

I laughed at my own expense, “What a personal question!”

“Well,” she continued, “It IS an interview.” She met my gaze, “I expect before we’re done you’ll have answered MANY personal questions…” She trailed off of “questions” by biting her lip slightly and letting her gaze drift slightly downward, then, catching herself she straightened up and began staring at the numbers as the elevator rose through the building.

I gulped. Personal questions?? Hmmm, how badly do I want this job…? What kind of questions? How much information am I willing to part with about myself?

I assaulted myself with questions and just as the elevator reached the 23rd floor and slowed to a stop with a sharp DING and had determined to be as professional as I could, regardless of the questions asked.