The Bliss

 

Chapter 3
“Your secret’s revealed now”

Andy is a shy but persistent tomboy. Everyone and all around him (or should we say 'her'?) are fighting against his/her tomboyishness vigorously.

 

This story is in three parts and it's completed.
My thanks to Amanda Lynn for proofreading and helpful suggestions.
This is a work of adult fiction so that's a caution that covers everything. No resemblance to reality should be inferred or expected.

 

I missed practice again because Dad had called the office. I was told to go to his studio, so I took the bus to West Bayside where Dad had his dojo. Dad’s clientele was so-called middle-upper-class, they were not restricted by work hours. Only a few of his classes were after work. My Mom was teaching mostly college and high school students, and others who were rather middle-middle-class. Mom worked till eight or nine at night. When I got to Dad’s studio he still had his class going so I darted into the dojo. He nodded to me to take a seat on the ground. His other students were sitting also. It wasn’t the practice but rather some talking about self-defense and street fights.

“So ladies, when someone attacks you on the street, forget the words ‘honor’ and ‘pretty,” started Dad. I looked around the dojo and all his students were women. It was too much, all this girly stuff for me so I stood up and went to Dad’s office to wait for him there.

There was a poster on the wall in his office with me cheerleading on it. I didn’t want to stare at myself so I left for his side room where he could take a break or take a nap. I was flipping through one of his yoga magazines when Dad came to his office with someone.

“Oh, what a cheer!” they said. “Who is she that she’s found a place on your wall?”

“Andy. I’m so proud to be her Dad!”

Arghhh, Dad, don’t forget to mention ‘she’ is a boy. Again, don’t I have a say in it?

 

 

I thought we were going to see a different doctor today. Apparently, we went to see the same one because she had my blood test results.

“You have an overall quantity of estrogens/androgens similar to an adolescent girl. Your prolactin maximum is expressed very clear,” the Doctor said.

“That means?” Dad asked.

“That means that Andy is developing more like a girl than like a boy,” she replied. “What vitamins are you taking?”

“None,” I replied.

“Supplements?”

“Only something for acne.”

“And that is?”

I told her what I knew.

“Is it Pueraria mirifica?” she asked.

“Yes, it is. I just can’t pronounce its name.”

 

 

Long story short. That anti-acne remedy had caused the development of my breasts – nobody to blame but me. The Doc wasn’t sure if giving me male hormone shots would induce male puberty or cause only partial development of some male attributes.

Then she called another Doc, endo-something. The endo-something came into the room, after a short talk he, Dad and I went to his office. There he made me undress completely and examined my breasts as well as my dangling bits. Then he took a picture of my willy and balls with his phone and at last he let me get dressed. He asked us to wait in the outside while he called his colleagues.

After waiting thirty minutes, he invited us back into his office. “So…” he started “I’ve talked with my colleagues, we need to wait for a psychiatric evaluation. Whether you discontinue taking Pueraria mirifica or not, your breasts will continue to develop at a low pace. Giving you testosterone is useless because testosterone is blocked by prolactin. Experimenting with higher testosterone doses would be irresponsible.”

 

 

I was the only one to blame. I wanted to cry but I didn’t because that would be too girly. The only choice was to try to remain strong and…

“Andy, we’ll never blame you for what you’ve done. We'll always love you no matter what you decide,” Dad said putting his arm around my shoulders.

I sniffled and nodded. If I tried to speak I’d burst into tears. I decided to remain strong.

“Home?”

“Mall,” I said and sniffled again. “I need a new bra that doesn’t make my tits stand out so much.”

“Breasts,” Dad corrected me.

“Well, breasts then, please?”

This time it was another store, another sales lady and I wanted plain white or tan colored sports bras. I got both in three packs each. At first, the sales lady tried to get me into small talk. I wasn’t interested so her chatting died instantly.

 

 

Two days later I went to that psycho-shrink. She, her name’s Melody, was younger than Mom. After introductions, she talked with me alone, then with Dad a little. Afterward, I was in her office alone again and I was given a tablet to take a test. I found out that on the internet there were about one hundred questions to determine how much female or male a person was. What I got were more questions and I was sitting there for almost three hours.

One good thing was that we didn’t need to wait for the results from the test to be evaluated. Probably my answers were analyzed by special software on-the-fly.

“Well Andy, the results show that you're a girl, maybe slightly on the tomboyish side but definitely a girl.”

“So what now?” I asked.

“You say,” Melody replied.

“I don’t want to.”

“Let be positive. OK?”

“NO!”

“Andy!” Dad interrupted. “You aren’t a kid anymore.”

“OK. I want to be normal, I want a normal life. Normal like a normal boy or like a normal girl! While now I am neither. I’m not a boy, I’m not a girl and I’ll never be. There is no positive in my situation at all.”

“I’ll help you to transform your situation into a positive with what we have,” Melody stated. “Not in a day, not even in a month but I’m sure a few months later your attitude will be completely different. You’ll be a much happier person.”

 

 

“The positive thing is you don’t need to be afraid of getting manly if you decide to be more girly,” Dad stated when we were in the car.

“Don’t understand…”

“You’ve said more than once you are afraid to be seen as a girl while you may develop into a bulky young man in the nearest future. Don’t be, you will not.”

“What?”

“Don’t be afraid to dress like a girl. You will not develop into a man.”

“Oh… Really… I didn’t think that way.”

“Then try it.”

“Well… But there’re some people who know I’m a boy and…”

“Your squad?” Dad asked.

“No, the three teachers, but they are not so threatening. That’s Al and his…”

“Are you sure?” Dad interrupted me. “Do you remember talking about Al’s girlfriend?”

“What she has to do with me being a boy?”

“Cause you are Al’s girlfriend.”

“ME? How… Why…”

“That young woman…”

“Erica,” I said.

“Yes, Erica spoke to Al’s sister to ask Al’s girlfriend to babysit. Now think about it. How much time does it take to call someone and explain that not you but a friend of yours needs some help and you are asking for something for them?”

“About ten minutes I guess.”

“So, you heard about Al’s girlfriend and no less than ten minutes later Al’s sister turned to you for help?” Dad asked.

“No, no. It was almost immediately,” I replied. “Oh… Really… But Al…”

“When you asked Al about his new girlfriend what was his reaction?”

“He denied everything,” I said.

“As Melody has said you are definitely a girl. So, you don’t know how two boys talk about girls?”

“DAAAD!”

“I’m serious. When a boy asks another boy about a girl, real or imaginary, the first boy’s reaction is manly, macho. Kind of ‘Oh, she’s hot’ or at least ‘I wish it was true’. Now another situation. Boy’s girlfriend is asking about his new girlfriend, no matter real or fake, The boy will deny everything. He won't even want to discuss it at all.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m a man and I was a boy,” he said, “so this is first-hand knowledge.”

“What if you're not right and Al really has a new girlfriend and…”

Dad raised his hands to stop me there.

“Listen. You are talking like a girl again. For another boy, there is no problem at all if his friend has a girlfriend or not if that girlfriend isn’t his girlfriend also. Boys don’t discuss their emotions or love. They brag about it.”

 

 

So Dad had proved I was thinking like a girl. That made me more positive about my future. That had consequences.

The Endo-something doc decided I needed testosterone blockers. That's to prevent me from becoming like other boys, hairy and everything. But I was too young to get female hormones. He recommended taking the same stuff I'd been taking for acne. He offered to start using herbal progesterone supplement. They were not certified like hormones, or even like medicine. But they were certified dietary supplements. Doc said those were better than nothing. Without any hormones at all development and growth stops almost completely. Thus up to my eighteenth birthday, I would stay like I was now, and now I looked like a twelve-year-old girl.

Not only hormones were reserved for my eighteenth birthday. No reassignment surgery could be done. Dad said that there was a treatment that helped to look like a girl without cutting anything off. This way I could use girls’ restrooms and changing rooms at school. As of now, I was using faculty rooms instead, and for my practice, I was changing in Ms. Nors office.

That psycho-shrink Melody, despite that she said earlier that I was a tomboy, tried to trick me into being more girly. She wanted me to go to school in a skirt! Maybe she was right and it wasn’t a big deal. I, on the other hand, was afraid there was someone in the school who knew me as a boy. Then they would stone me as soon as I stepped into the school! Maybe I was wrong but I dreaded it a lot.

 

 

Girls were attending our school in jeans mostly, like me. Their jeans were girly, hugging their butts tightly with some embroidery. Their shirts were girly too. Some girls wore skirts and they were the cheerleaders for the most part. I was one too. But I wasn’t a girl. Mom had promised to bring me to the mall one day, but she was busy all the time. So it was Dad, the same store and Leila again. This time I needed something girly but not too girly. I needed something more appropriate for a girl to wear as opposed to her brother’s hand-me-downs.

“Andy needs jeans that fit her better than what she’s wearing now. Maybe a shirt or two,” Dad explained.

“Hipsters?” Leila asked.

I didn’t know the word so I looked at Dad for an explanation while he looked at me then we both looked at Leila.

“Low rise,” she said.

I knew that there were low rise houses. Was Leila referring to me as a short one now? Dad and I looked at each other and then at Leila again.

Leila sighed audibly.

“It’s about the waistline,” she said. “Most girls like a lower waistline so their belly button shows.”

“Maybe not,” I said.

“Not what?”

“I mean I want normal waist,” I said.

“So high waisted jeans then,” Leila confirmed. “Some skirts?”

“I have one already,” I said.

“An average girl usually has ten skirts in her closet,” Leila said.

“I don’t have a closet,” I replied.

“Andy has a dresser,” Dad explained.

“Oh, I see…” Leila trailed off. “I remember you bought a skirt about a few weeks ago. Are you talking about that one?”

“Uh, huh… Yes.”

“How did you like it? Did you wear it at home or to school?” she asked.

“Eh… Neither,” I said. “It’s too short.”

“WHAT?” Leila shrieked. “It’s miraculous. You are the first girl to say a skirt’s too short.”

“Er… It exposes too much.”

“Keep your knees together and…”

“I know, I know…” I interrupted her. “But there is that triangle of the flat hem and my thighs here that shows everything.”

“Haven’t you tried to cross your legs?”

“At school? Isn’t that impolite?” I wondered.

“Well, no… And it helps with your posture. I mean to sit straight,” Leila explained.

“Well… OK… I’ll give it a try. But I’d prefer something longer and maybe something not so tight…”

“And what tops?”

“Tops what?” I looked at Dad.

“Shirts,” he explained.

“Blouses,” Leila said.

“No frills?” I asked.

“No frills,” Leila sighed again. “No tomboy gives in without a fight.”

 

 

When we started moving to the racks it dawned to me that I actually didn’t want a skirt. Any skirt. Pants were ok, so why bother with skirts, short or long, tight or lose? Maybe jeans will be the first stop… No such luck. The first stop was the shirts. They were anything but normal.

The first one I was given was obviously too small, it was tight, short and the sleeves were too short. It was stretchy too. Not that stretchy normal but stretchy that clung to my body like the second skin. It showed a lot of my bare skin and what it covered was enhanced, my tits were enormous. I turned to Dad with the hope he will rescue me.

“You look good in it,” he stated. “I’d say even hot.”

“I don’t need ‘hot’. There’re already some idiots that are drooling over that stupid poster.” I replied.

“Language…” Dad started.

Why ‘Language’ when I wasn’t cursing. ‘Stupid’ is a very normal word.

“What poster?” Leila asked.

“Moment…” Dad said and started scrolling his Smartphone.

“This one,” he showed his phone to Leila.

“Oh!” She looked at the photo attentively. “Your face is familiar. My son has this poster on the wall of his room.”

“Oh…” I managed to respond.

“So… Do you want this crop top?” Leila asked.

“Crop?...”

“Cropped tee.”

“We take it,” Dad said.

“But…”

“It’s OK, it’s not as extreme as it looks at first. We'll take it.”

Sure… Dad’s word was the last one. I’d tried. I’d tried hard, but I was alone and there were two of them. Leila was a professional and Dad had the money.

We got more like that. Actually not like that last one but not like I was used to. If it was a white shirt, it was almost see through. Another was normal but its sleeves were puffy, it was something ruffled, loose and was called a poet shirt. Another one was almost normal but all edges were rounded and the collar had no button, only a little bow instead. At last, there was a shirt that looked like a regular flannel shirt. It felt the same but it had only two buttons on top and no buttons at the bottom. It was supposed to be tied in a knot at the bottom. All those things were called tops. Not shirts or tees but tops because they were neither shirts nor tees.

I’d noticed a plain tee in dark lavender. When I took it from the rack there were the words ‘Bad girl’ stenciled on the front. It almost made me cry because otherwise, it was an excellent plain tee that I could wear every day. I had my tees all plain without images or text on them. I wanted one like that but there were none. Dad had noticed my frustration so he found and bought me a plain one in coral color. There was almost invisible (his words) ‘Daddy’s princess’ in gold on it. Thank you Dad(dy)!

 

 

The ‘tops’ part was over, I had a lot of them. When and where I’ll wear them? I don’t know. I now have so many tees and shirts… Next stop! Bottoms. Why bottoms, by the way?

Jeans were almost the same, except they were extremely tight, especially around my butt. Or was my ass really so fat?

“My butt looks too fat in it,” I complained trying to use only proper words.

“I don't think so,” Leila replied. “What do you think, sir,” she turned to Dad. Those two had become conspirators recently.

“Leila is right, Andy,” Dad said. What else could he say?“ although another inch would make your bottom look better, I guess.”

And another two pairs almost the same as the first one in slightly different colors, for a change. I was ready to move on but no such luck. Skirts!

“I don’t need them! I have one and it’s more than enough!”

“Just try one on,” Dad said. “If it doesn’t look good on you, we don’t take it. OK?”

It was a trap and I realized it too late. I’d tried some and most of them ended in the same bunch of purchased items. There was a full circle skirt, then a pleated one, then the tiered one which I liked. I didn’t know when and where and for what occasions to wear it though. Another was an ordinary skater skirt. Why skater? I didn’t know. I had no skates and even if I had I would be like a cow on the ice.

The next stop was shoes and socks or rather hosiery. This part was OK. We went through it quickly. They both agreed I was too young for high heels. I ended with some trainers and ballet flats – nothing special, nothing fancy and almost no glitter.

“Jewelry?” Leila asked when she was ready to scan all purchases.

“Why?”

“To be pretty.”

“Dad,” I turned to Dad and found him studying something on the accessories rack. “Am I pretty?”

“Definitely you are,” he stated.

“See?” I turned to Leila. “I am already, so don’t bother for more.”

“Hey, you’re playing dirty!” Leila complained as she turned to Dad, “What about some jewelry for your princess, sir?”

Who’s playing dirty now?

 

 

Next day I went to school all girly. I’d fought hard and my defeat was only partial because of my fight. I was in my very first girly outfit. That’s the straight denim skirt, lavender tights, amethyst sneakers, and burgundy turtleneck. I had a bra and that cami-thing on me too. I had a new jacket on because it was December and it was cold outside. The jacket was girly too, not extremely girly but anyway. Its buttons were on left and there were no pockets just clasps where pockets were supposed to be. Because there were no pockets, I had the purse Dad had bought me.

There I was at school, all colorful and girly waiting for the bell to ring when Al approached me. He’ll laugh at me now because I was stupid and allowed this to…

“Hi. You look sooo good,” Al said instead. He looked at me up and down and then fixed his gaze on my tits and then licked his lips. “You are so hot, really.”

“Look, I’m the same Andy inside,” I felt uncomfortable with him staring at me.

“Ah… OK… What I wanted to say… Look, I’ll have another sis…”

“Wow! I didn’t notice your Mom’s pregnant.”

“She’s not,” Al confirmed. ”Look, Mom’s sis, my aunt passed away all of sudden and her daughter’s only relative is my Mom so she’s coming here today. Terry is busy with Cassie and her studies so if you could come to my place and help Miranda to adapt to a new place…”

“Randy?” I gasped. “Isn’t your aunt’s name Tiffany?”

“It was. Did you know her?”

“We were at the same yoga camp this summer with Tiffany and Randy. And now… she… sob… Tiff…” What was happening to me recently? Was I turning into a sissy with all these girly things around me? This time I couldn’t keep tears from falling and I couldn’t do anything with myself as I started sobbing and weeping.

 

 

Now we both, that’s Al and I were in VP office. Some teacher thought Al did something terrible to me. That teacher came to my rescue and had brought us both into the VP office. Here Al managed to tell the story two times. He explained why I was weeping and I confirmed that Al was innocent and that it was me who couldn’t keep from crying.

It couldn’t be worse. Mrs. Gordon was one of three teachers who knew I was really a boy. Now I was in her office all in tears and Al was comforting as if I was his girlfriend. It was so wrong that it made me cry even harder.

Al eventually was given a pass and sent away. I, on the other hand, was still in Mrs. Gordon’s office and there was My drama teacher too. She was working with my face and eyes after I finally stopped crying.

“It’s OK for us girls to cry after we find out someone we know has passed away,” Mrs. Sablotzki said.

“But you know I’m really not and I have no right to behave like I’m behaving now,” I said and sniffled back some tears.

“I guess or rather I’m sure you really are one of us just you don’t know it yet.”

“Your friend will be attending our school,” Mrs. Gordon said, interrupting our girl talk. “She’s grade ten but I guess you’ll see each other during practice. She’d mentioned she was squad captain at her old school.”

“She’s on dance squad,” I said, “while I’m on stunt squad.”

“Oh,” VP managed to say.

 

 

The Drama teacher had applied some makeup on me and I was not only dressed girly now but I was painted girly too. It didn’t go unnoticed, though. Almost everyone had complimented my good looks. I did my part too: I blushed and thanked, I thanked and blushed. I guessed my face was permanently red till the end of the day.

I was excused from practice to go to Al’s home and comfort Randy. There were a lot of hugs, some crying and some sniffing.

I thought that practice was much better than self-pity, sulking and crying. I dragged Randy back to school while cheerleading practice was about to start.

The stunt team was practicing in the gym while dancers were in the auditorium. I lead her to drama class where dancers were changing. I introduced her to dance squad coach Ms. Miles and their captain Allison. Some pleasantries, some hugs, and some tears later they were bubbling about what they usually did. Randy was accepted without try-outs so I left her in the auditorium and went to Ms. Nors office to change myself.

“Haven’t I excused you to comfort your friend?” Ms. Nors asked.

“I have already,” I replied. “I guessed practice was better than sulking.”

“So where is she?”

“In the auditorium.”

“Why not here? We could use another flyer. Sarah and Liz are graduating this year.”

“Yeah, I know. But Randy is… Keep it secret, please! So she’s like fearing heights. Working on the beam that was lying on the ground was a real challenge for her,” I explained.

“It’s acrophobia,” Ms. Nors said.

“Ah, thanks, I’m confusing it with arachnophobia, I guess.”

“That one is about spiders.”

“Yeah… I know.”

 

 

After practice, Randy and I went to Al’s home again as it was her home too now. There I helped her to settle into her new bedroom. It was Terry’s bedroom before Terry moved to the first-floor guest bedroom after Cassie was born. Then we fussed with Cassie and then Randy and I cried a little again and then I went home.

When I got home, it dawned on me that I was dressed as a girl all day, and not simply a girl but a girly girl and I was in a skirt! Randy’s arrival helped me to forget that I was supposed to be sulking. I’d enjoyed myself. I guess Randy being there helped. It’s always good to reunite with friends.

 

 

After the homecoming game, there was another important event coming – state competition. Stunt team and dancers will perform together. The practice routine now included dancing drill too. Only two weeks were left so we were practicing three hours a day and also on Saturdays and Sundays.

The event was held in the state capital and as the state capital isn’t the biggest city. They even didn’t have the squad to compete. The competition was planned in Community College gym. It was bigger than the school and it had bleachers for the public to sit.

The intense practice was a pain but at the same time, it was good for Randy. She was thinking less about her Mom and crying less because she was too busy with homework and practice. Now with Randy here, with intense practice and everything I was spending even less time with Al than before. I was spending a lot of time with Randy but she liked to come over to my place instead of being at home. With me, at my home, she felt as everything was normal. At home, even the fact of her being there reminded her about the loss.

When we were together she taught me some girly things like makeup, nails, and hair.

I wasn’t about to cut my hair or die it another color. I learned to put it in different ponytails. There was a special high tail where the hair was tied, raised up, left and looked like it was loose. Actually, it was tied and didn’t get into the face. The next thing to do with my hair was to braid it. I liked the single braid the most. With a ribbon braided in it, some color could be added. My hair was very long so the braid was long too, so I could roll it, twist it, tie it, raise it and then tie it in a knot. Possibilities were almost endless but a single loose braid with a ribbon in it I liked the most.

Makeup? I wasn’t ready for it yet. It was good looking on others but not on me. Even when Randy painted me so carefully I didn’t like it. No. It was not my thing. The only thing make up related I really liked were nails. I liked them dark with some blue shades in the color. I was good at matching them with the color of the things I was wearing. Anyway, any other makeup wasn’t good for cheerleading. Anything painted on the face was steadily converting into combat paint during practice or at the game. Only waterproof mascara and eye paint worked.

When we went to the state capital for a competition I was even more girly than when I came to school in a skirt. My hair was braided with a ribbon in it, my nails were painted and I even had some mascara.

The place was two hours away by bus so we didn’t need to stay overnight like other girls. The only bad thing was I couldn’t get the same privacy for changing and showering as at home. Ms. Nors interceded for other girls to let me use the far end of the changing room. I used the only available semi-private showering cubicle because I was very shy (her words).

I was showering after the competition. By the way, we got second place. So I showered in that semi-private cubicle. Then I reached for the towel where I’d left it before entering the cubicle and there was nothing. There was the hook but no towel. I looked at the floor for it may have dropped down, but there was nothing on the floor either. I could hear other girls in the changing room. What could I do? I covered my groin and breasts with my hands and scooted to my locker.

There was my towel hanging on the locker door but it was shut and I needed both hands to open the door and grab the towel. I had to uncover myself, so I did.

At the same moment, I heard the changing room door open and I instinctively turned around. There was Ms. Nors standing. She was staring at me and she was turning as white as a sheet of paper.

“At last!” I heard Lucille say. I turned around and there were all the girls in various stages of undressing. Sheila and Liz, another flyer, were completely nude like I was.

“At last we’ve proven you’re a girl like any other girl in this room. We all are tired of your constant ‘I’m not like you’ nonsense,” Lucille said. “Don’t be so shy around us girl, we are all the same.”

There I was the nude girl standing in front of other girls and our coach. I had to admit, Dad was right again. That very simple procedure made me look like any other girl. The Doc was reluctant at first but then, after I’d told I had no erection more than a year, he conceded. So he made what Dad was asking for.

Despite my change, I was still shy around girls and not only girls. I had boys’ parts hidden and I felt like a pervert with undressed girls around.

 

 

Back at home, we were honored at school by the principal during a gathering in the auditorium. To be the second in the state isn’t bad! The squad got a trophy from the state. It showed that the squad wasn’t less important than the football team or the girls’ volleyball team. Both teams had more events and eventually, they had more trophies. Only the cheerleaders had won a trophy in a state competition.

Christmas was nearing with its dance events but those were for seniors and juniors. Freshmen like me and Al and sophomores like Randy were still too young for dating.

Rami, on the other hand, was dating Alice and they were spending a lot of time at our house. Rami said they were doing their homework together. I’d caught them a couple of times and Rami’s hand was groping Alice’s breast. They really were studying human anatomy probably.

Otherwise, Alice was cool to talk to. She offered to take me and Randy with them to Kennebunkport for a Christmas prelude fair. I liked the idea and Randy was eager to go too. There wasn’t much snow for skiing yet and the weather wasn’t suited for hiking or walking either. So Alice’s offer was great.

We got to Kennebunkport in less than an hour and there we separated. That means Rami and Alice went one way while Randy and I went another. We went through the main street with shops and booths. There was a pooch parade, that was great fun to watch, dogs in fancy costumes.

While strolling from booth to the booth we met Chris and Sean. Chris said they had met Rami with Alice first and they’d said we were here too. So that wasn’t a pure accident. The boys were looking for Randy and me. After some reshuffle, Randy ended with Sean while I with Chris. It suited me. I liked Chris the most of all of the boys on squad.

Like at any other fair there were booths with various competitions. Boys had an opportunity to show off. I was a boy too so I’d tried also, but there was something wrong with my aim. So I left it to Sean and Chris. The boys were aiming while Randy and I were cheering. And boys tried a few times.

“I’ve got to know your great secret,” Chris suddenly said so… so out of the blue. Yeah… I had to know before agreeing to go out as a girl that eventually someone may and will reveal my secret. The time had come.

“I was suspicious from the very first day we met,” he said, “and now Rami and Randy confirmed it.”

How? Randy had never said she really knew. How Rami could…

“Now I know for sure you have not a single stuffed animal. So let it be the first,” and Chris presented me a huge Teddy Bear. Yes, it was that classical Teddy Bear the boyfriend Chris wins for his girlfriend Andy, me.