The Him Sim
I could look however I wanted to. I made my hair short, perfectly quaffed. My jawline was just as square as I wanted it. My chest? Oh man! No breasts, defined pecs, the works! I had a slim stomach, defined abs, and non-child-bearing hips. I could look how I saw myself in my dreams, even how I saw myself in my mirror every morning. I could be me in this imaginary world, this game, that my mom had bought me for a mere $60. Can this Sim use the toilet standing? Yes. Can this Sim get pregnant? No. Can this Sim get others pregnant? Yes. If mom comes in the room, I must minimize the game— she can’t see him; she can’t know him is me. He gets a single-family home, a boyfriend, soon a husband. The couple adopts a handful of kids, one named Aleksander and the others who knows what. But I’m not supposed to want to be this Sim. I was born a girl, so I’m a girl. The family is erased, only for him to be re-made again, three times, probably at least six. One time mom walks by, sees the Sim that resembles me named Aarron. Who’s that? That’s not you, is it? No, that’s my son. She nods, walks away. One day the family will go dormant. The him will stay on that desktop, waiting to continue. But there’s no need for him now because that him is me, and I am more like him than I was before.
Aarron Sholar is a transgender writer who has essays forthcoming and/or published in Dead Skunk Magazine, Sunspot Lit (awarded the Quarterly Editor’s Prize), Broadkill Review (nominated for Best of the Net 2022), Beaver Magazine, Sierra Nevada Review, and others. He holds a BA from Salisbury University and is an MFA candidate in CNF at MNSU, Mankato, where he is Head CNF Editor of Blue Earth Review. You can interact with him on Twitter at @aarron_sholar.