“Are you a boy or a girl?” The first time a man pulled over to the curb and asked me this question in Downtown Honolulu I was more than a little offended. Was he trying to say I was ugly? I angrily asserted that I was a woman, just maybe a little tired from “runnin’ ‘em hard” or choosing drugs over sleep for several consecutive days. I answered the question honestly. Yes, I was a female, no I had never been a male at any point in my life. The standard anatomical female body was, to my enormous surprise, declined time after time. I’m talking at least 100 times since I started in the companion field at the turn of the twenty first century and for over a decade thereafter. Other women said they were often asked the same thing. “The prettiest mahus are prettier than women. And they take better care of themselves than women. It’s a compliment.” Yes, I suppose that’s true. But when I let the client who became a friend who became my love (unreciprocated) I came to understand that the men were not asking me simply because they thought I was a man. The blunt truth was that scores of men hoped I was a man. Best case scenario: beautiful face, trim body, and male genetalia. I did not fit the bill. Stay tuned for what I did about this unrequited male desire.