Pretend Goth to Pretty Pink Doll (Part 1)

I was not goth.

Some of you might be familiar with the gothic subculture.  An usually androgynous group who wears black, heavy make-up and tend to be dark and depressed a lot.  Sure, that's a stereotype, but since even the goths disagree violently on what defines them, don't expect me to give the definitive answer.  It's really almost impossible to define the line between 'goth' and 'not goth'.

I was not goth.

So what was I?  I was a teenager at war with my step-mother.  My military dad had remarried.  After a few months together with a woman who was a stranger to me, he had shipped off leaving me in her care.  And I don't think either of us liked each other.  I preferred to be called Chris, but she always called me Christopher even though it bugged me.  She was proud of her cooking, but I would rather starve than give her the satisfaction and I would just pick through my meals.  She always wanted anything in 'her' house to be bright and cheerful.  But I insisted my room be painted grey and my clothes just black or white.  On top of all that, back when my dad was home, she'd got upset that my hair was getting shaggy.

  "Girls have long hair.  Boys should have short hair", she said simply.  But my dad was on my side.

  "It's his hair, Cheryl.  He's old enough to decide for himself.", he said.  With that, the case was closed.  My step-mom tried to bribe me.  She was a seamstress or something and she said I could get some cool clothes from her store.  Like I cared about boring old regular clothes.  She tried to embarrass me by calling me her 'daughter' and offering to take me to her hairdresser and get my hair done in a prom style.  But she knew she couldn't order me.  I loved my shoulder length hair because I knew it irritated the hell out of her.  More important, it fit my rebel personality.  I was my own man.  No one told me what to do.  No one controlled me.  And if you didn't like that, you could suck it because if there was one thing for sure about me... That was never changing.

So there I was, in a new school.  Dressed all in black, skinny as a rake.  My naturally pale skin and my messy mop of dirty blond hair.  As I said, I was not goth, but that's not what everyone assumed.  And the gothic kids welcomed me.  Now, I really wanted to find friends.  So having a group who instantly brought me in wasn't something I questioned.  Soon I was pretending to enjoy dark, dreary music, debating life and death... And having the attention of some very gorgeous, pale young ladies.

You have to understand that I had never been the subject of female attention before.  I'd always been too small, too scrawny to attract 'normal' girls.  But now, not being a big brawny guy was an asset.  These girls liked my androgyny.  They loved to play with my hair, and talk goth music, goth fashion, etc. with me.  They even gave me a 'goth' nickname and called me 'Christov'.  And I soaked it up like any hormone soaked teen would.  Sure we'd get teased by the 'norms' but mostly people left us alone, and life was good.

I started attending the goth nights, usually Wednesdays or Sundays, at local clubs.  I had no trouble sneaking out of the house.  My step-mom worked at some sewing store and she was so lame, she had to work late.  Since she was always coming at 2 or 3 a.m., I could usually go out, do my thing, and still be back home before she was.  She never had a clue what I was up to.  I don't even think my step-mom cared much.  Because she couldn't control me, she pretty much threw up her hands.  The high school crowd that I'd arrive with quickly mixed in with an older, college aged crowd.  We were underage, but no one really seemed to care.  Goths just looked out for each other and intermingled.  And it was there that I first met Patchouli.

I think I heard someone call her 'Sandra' once, but everyone knew Patchouli.  She was beautiful in that model way.  With her long, purple hair, delicate features, and uncanny grace, you couldn't help but just enjoy watching her.  In her immaculate shiny silver buckles and black lace, she ruled the room as if she was our queen.  I guess, for all intents and purposes, that's exactly what she was.  A raise of her eyebrow indicated you'd made a fashion faux pas and you'd best remove yourself from her presence.  But if she said she liked your outfit, everyone liked your outfit.  Now, around the time I had started showing up on the scene, it was also pretty public knowledge that she had split from her college boyfriend so that insured she had a court of hopeful young men (and a few women) seeking her attention at all times.  Thus you can imagine my complete and utter surprise when she started to take interest in me!

It started when I came in early one night.  I was wearing my usual black t-shirt, black jeans, black boots and my long hair unwashed.  I was just looking around for people I knew from school as I walked past Patchouli's table.  But of course, goths are night creatures, and on a normal night, Patchouli and her crew were not there til much later.  So when I hear someone say "Christov!", you can understand I initially looked in the exact opposite direction.  My name was repeated and eventually, even over the loud music, I swung around to see it was coming from Patchouli.  Surprised she even knew who I was, I gingerly turned and walked over.  She was alone at her table.  With her sparkling eyes and elfin smile, my heart began beating like mad!  My throat choked up, my eyes slightly watered and I felt like the most awkward human on the planet. 

  "Me?" was all I could say.  Why is she talking to me?  She rose as I approached, and I found myself looking up into her eyes.  A quick look down confirmed she was wearing some stunning high heeled shiny black boots with a lace up front.  But honestly she didn't need the heels.  She was such a powerful presence, her height just seemed to make sense.  Picturing her without those heels, I realized we must be about the same height.  The idea we were about the same size seemed ridiculous because she was such room-filling presence, but we were.  She tilted her head to look down at me, quizzically as we came oh, so close.  And then she frowned.

  "You're not wearing any make-up", she stated.  I froze.  I think I mentioned that I wasn't goth, so of course I didn't.  Sure, many of the goth guys did, but not all and certainly not me.  But I didn't know how to respond.  "How can you look properly spooky without at least some eye-liner?" Patchouli asked.  And it felt like everyone at the club began looking at me as if my fly was open.  I had walked into the room confident, but now, having an eye-liner free face felt as if I'd walked into the room without my pants.  I could feel a blush of humiliation begin as the blood flowed into my face.  "Oh, I'm sorry", she said.  "I didn't mean to make you feel embarrassed.  Would you like me to fix that for you?"  I nodded yes, and Patchouli immediately grabbed her bag with one hand, my wrist with her other hand, and began to take us both to the bathroom.  Of course it took a moment to realize that I was being dragged into the women's bathroom.  I was too frozen to say anything.  Luckily, when we went in, no one seemed to care.  The women in the bathroom continued to gossip, primp in the mirrors or do whatever it was they were doing while completely ignoring us.

Patchouli put her bag down on the counter by the bathroom mirrors.  Then, to my complete surprise, she reached under my armpits and lifted me up to sit on the counter!  Here was this delicate, slender goth beauty, and she'd just casually lifted me onto the counter like a child!  Sure, she was a few years older than I was and we basically both had the same height and slender builds, but my mind was still 'Boys strong, girls weak' and it just didn't quite process what had happened.  But Patchouli didn't seem to notice my vexed look.  She pulled a make-up kit out of her bag and some brushes and started to work.  The first thing she did was tell me to close my eyes.  As someone who was worried about being poked in the eye, that was not a problem!  She brushed back my hair, to get it out of my face.  I felt her put something in my hair to keep it back.  And soon she was at work. 

Now, I mentioned I wasn't wearing any make-up that night.  That's not to say I'd never, ever tried it.  The girls from school had got me to do eye-liner once or twice and black lipstick.  But since I didn't own any make-up or have any skill applying it, I was pretty much limited to when one of the girls felt like it.  I say that so you know I didn't feel like this was that unusual, some girl wanting to put make-up on me..  If anything, I was feeling very special.  Patchouli herself, the master, wanted to make-up my face!  If it seems like I didn't care, it was because I knew her skill and ability.  I knew whatever she did would be fierce and awesome.  And in that moment, I was just basking in the fact that it was me, with all those guys at her table, that she was paying attention to!  I felt her brushing something on my face and I risked a slight peek.  Well, of course I couldn't see anything (I was sitting on the counter, my back to the mirrors) and right away I knew I'd annoyed Patchouli.  She frowned slightly and gave me a 'Why aren't your eyes closed?' look.  I quickly closed them again.  After feeling the delicate touch of her brush on my face, I felt something wet going on around my eyes.  She blew in my face a few times and made little noises.  Someone in the bathroom must've realized I was a boy in the ladies room because I could hear some people giggling, but Patchouli shushed them.  That's probably why she was making me keep my eyes closed, so no one could accuse me of being a peeping tom.  Patchouli ordered me to open my mouth and I felt her putting lipstick on me.  Soon she handed me a bit of tissue and told me to blot my lips.  And I was excited that I knew what she wanted me to do as I put the tissue between my lips gently!  I started to open my eyes and she stopped me.

  "Keep your eyes closed.  I haven't finished yet."  Soon she was putting her hands through my hair.  "Hmm" she mused out loud.  "I put your hair back so I could work, but if I just take it out, your hair is going to ruin it.  Here, I think I have something that will keep it out of the makeup."  I felt something like a hairband sliding on, squeezing my head gently.  Following that, I felt her sliding something into my hair like hairpins or something.  And my hair was held back out of my face.  I couldn't wait to see how it looked!  I reached up to feel what she'd done, but she just slapped down my hand.  "Don't touch it.  You'll ruin the look."  Patchouli quickly threw her things back in her bag, firmly grabbed my hand and started dragging me out of the bathroom!  I had already taken several steps before I even realized I could now open my eyes, and when I did, we were already out of the bathroom.  I scurried to keep up, mostly just to keep my balance.  Patchouli continued to quickly drag me through the dark, smoky club so we were at her table immediately.  Patchouli gracefully slid into her usual seat.  To my complete shock, she motioned me towards the seat beside her!  I couldn't believe it.  The queen of the goths was inviting me to sit at her side!  I felt so important.  We started talking.  We talked about several things.  We talked about what people were wearing, about how empty the dance floor was this early in the evening.  We talked about how much the music sucked and things like that.  The whole time, she couldn't take her eyes off me.  She was just smiling and so friendly.  I couldn't believe that a women several years older than me, particularly one that could easily be a model, would be so into me!  I mean, I knew I was smart and good-looking, but I didn't realize I had this effect on women.  I just couldn't stop smiling back at her!

Patchouli's friends arrived at the table.  They looked at me and stopped in shock.  At first, I was thinking 'Yeah, that's right.  Patchouli is hanging out with me.'.  And I felt so awesome.  But that feeling quickly went away as they started laughing!  I looked quizzically at Patchouli and noticed she was laughing too!  Something was wrong.  I tried to play it casual.

  "Pretty cool music tonight", I said making small talk.  But this raven haired girl, coincidentally named Raven, replied.

  "Isn't it a little hard-core for you?" she said with a smile.  "I'm surprised your mommy lets you listen to it." she chortled.  I was a little off-put.  I mean, yeah, sure I'm a high school kid and Raven, heck most of Patchouli's friends, are in college, but that was a pretty harsh put-down.  And yet everyone was still looking at me and smiling.  Feeling incredibly self-conscious and turning red with embarrassment, I wanted to get out of there.  I made an excuse to leave.

  "Uhh, I have to go to the bathroom", I said.  Right away this girl with platinum blonde hair, I think they called her Ivy, jumped in.

  "Do you need help or do you know how to go potty by yourself?" Ivy said, and everyone laughed.  I immediately got up and went to the bathroom... Men's this time.  I needed to buy some time to figure out what was going on.  As I walked, I started to check my clothes.  Was my zipper open?  Nope.  Did my socks match?  They did.  Maybe I had something in my teeth?  I needed to check.  When I got to the bathroom and looked in the mirror, I recoiled!  Now that I knew what was on my face, my embarrassment knew no bounds.  I blushed a red brighter than a fire truck.

Patchouli had applied make-up, all right, but it was far from dark and imposing.  She had put baby blue eye shadow and bright pink lipstick on me!  My cheeks were rouged with little pink circles giving me an absolutely doll-like appearance.  My eyes were lined with eyeliner and my eyelashes were coated in mascara making them look long and delicate.  (I knew they felt funny!)    Far worse, the 'hair pins' she had put in my hair to pull it to the sides were cute barrettes with teddy bears on them!  And the 'hair band' she had put in my hair...  I had a bright, pink bow at the top of my head!  I absolutely looked like a child's doll come to life!  I couldn't believe it.  I tried to remove the hairbow, but it had some combs that were twisted into my hair and tugging just pulled my hair.  I tried to unclip the barrettes but I couldn't figure out how to make them open up.  I started to vigorously wash the make-up off my face.  A few guys came into the washroom looking for me.  They said they'd heard what happened and wanted to see.  I couldn't get the make-up off!  It was some kind of water-proof makeup and the best I was doing was smudging it a bit.  How was I going to ever leave the bathroom looking like this?  The guys started laughing and laughing.

  "How did she ever talk you into that" one of them asked between laughs.  All I could do was shrug my shoulders.

  "All he needs is a dress and he'd look like a doll" another guffawed.  I just started to fume.  And then the door opened.  It was Patchouli.  She motioned the men out of the room (Even angry with her, I was still in awe that she could so casually do that) and came towards me.

  "You know... He really had a great idea."  She said, thoughtfully.  "I think you'd make a darling little doll.  Would you like to wear a pretty dress?"  Seeing the shocked look on my face, her serious demeanor vanished, replaced by laughter.  "Oh, I am so sorry.  I just couldn't resist" she said with a big smile.  "Thank you for taking my joke in good humor".  She reached over and popped the barrettes out of my hair.  I mumbled something about not having quite decided that yet.  "Oh, don't worry." she replied.  She slowly started to work my hair out of the hair bow and soon, it came loose as well.  "Everyone knows I did it, so you don't have to worry about your reputation.  Everyone has to go through a bit of an initiation"  With that, she leaned close, handing me a tube of make-up remover and some wipes.  She whispered to me.  "I just find androgynous guys so hot.  Please, when you're done in here, come to my table and hang out.  If you don't, I'll be so disappointed."  With that she smiled her enticing smile, batted her eyes and looked her most enticing.  I mumbled I might consider it and her face just lit up.  She walked backwards out of the bathroom, moving her hands as if to summon me along.  And with that, I was alone in the bathroom.

After I'd cleaned up, I thought long and hard about her offer.  On the one hand, she had humiliated me!  On the other hand, I was a teenage boy awash in hormones and the most beautiful women in the club, heck, the most beautiful woman in the world had just told me she found me hot!  And now that I thought about it, it wasn't really that bad.  Like she said, most cool groups had initiations.  This was just how they welcomed you in.  I found I didn't really need to think too much more about it.  As I exited the bathroom, I saw that she had her usual entourage around, but she had clearly saved the seat next to her for me.  As if it was the most natural thing, I walked over and sat down next to her.  And for a moment, her smile brightened the room.

If I had any idea of where this evening was headed, I would've run screaming into the night.