Across town, Neil also was living his best life.
It had been a cool autumn, and winter was coming in fast. This was good
news for a guy who was half man and half wolf. He killed it with the
ladies during cooler weather.
See, Neil hadn't always been half wolf. Only a few years prior, Neil
had been a young man with normal amounts of body hair in normal places.
He grew up in Syracuse where people knew how to dress for the weather.
But three years ago, when his banking job moved him to Charlotte, he
discovered how little Southerners knew about dressing to keep warm.
Granted, it wasn't nearly as cold as New York, but as soon as the temps
hit 60 or below, it was all anyone could discuss.
The first time Neil had gone out with his coworkers after work was a
brisk October evening. Downtown -- or was it Uptown? Neil could never
remember -- people stood outside restaurants and bars waiting for
tables. There was huddling, bouncing from one foot to the other, the
exclamations of "Fall never comes this early! What is happening?!"
Neil couldn't understand it at first. It was only about 50 degrees
outside. But after a few nights of this, he realized Southerners had no
idea how to dress to stay warm. The women just kept wearing their
ankle pixie pants and wedge sandals, and puzzling over their blue ankles
and exclaiming. This is how Neil discovered he was a canis lupis
hypertrichosis empath, or "empathetic wolfman" for short.
[PG-11 portion to follow]
Neil developed the condition the first time he (nearly) made out with a Southern girl. He was walking with a group of friends from one bar to
the next, when Ashlyn fell behind to step into a doorway of a
closed store. "Let's just get out of the wind for a minute," she said.
"What wind?" Neil thought. He held her hands. They were freezing. He looked at her in surprise.
"I know, I know," said Ashlyn in a knowing resigned tone. "They've been cold since 1992. How are yours so warm?"
"I don't know," said Neil. "Maybe because I'm wearing pants...and
socks...and, you know, an undershirt and this second shirt, and a
jacket."
Ashlyn looked intrigued. "Ahhh...fascinating." She touched the hem of his untucked button down shirt. "May I?"
Neil had no idea what the question meant, but he nodded.
She slipped her small icy hands under his appropriate number of layers,
and placed them on his warm torso. "MY GOD, DUDE. YOU'RE SO FREAKING
WARM! DO ALL YANKEES FEEL THIS WARM?"
Neil nodded in surprise. "Well...yes."
"Just give me a minute," said Ashlyn, her eyes closing halfway in
relief. Her thin legs sticking out from her rayon shift dress were
still dancing side to side and her toes matched her cornflower blue
toenail polish, but her hands began to warm slightly.
They must have stood there twenty minutes, Ashlyn with her eyes closed,
Neil patiently waiting, eventually getting out his phone to check
Snapchat, but then something started to happen.
"Something's starting to happen," Neil said, like an omniscient
narrator. Ashlyn opened her eyes. The skin under each of her hands
began to itch. Neil looked down and pulled up his shirt. As Ashlyn
removed her hands, she and Neil watched as two pink spots shaped like
hands appeared. Then, a few seconds later, POOF! Out popped two
patches of dark hair. "Holy shit!" Neil said wide-eyed. Ashlyn
blinked, considered, then put her hands on the patches. Closing her
eyes, she pulled him close. "Even better. Stand still. I just need
five more minutes."