Just once, I wished she'd say my name. My real name. Hear her say it in that sweet, beautiful voice, leaving her soft lips as we made love.

But no. The only name that escaped those lips between each of her gasping breaths was not mine. Her body would begin to quiver violently below me as she approached her climax, and the name uttered as her hips gave a final heave against mine would pelt me like a thousand knives. How I loathed that name. Taylor.

“Please, baby,” I’d say, as she collapsed upon my chest, “Say my name.”

“What’re you talking about?” She rolled onto her side, propping herself up with her elbow.

“You didn’t…say my name.”

“Of course I did.”

“You didn’t. Trust me, I heard.”

“I know I said something.”

“You DID say something, but it wasn’t my name.”

“Well if I didn't say your name, then whose did I say?”

“You said…” I prepared myself for the shudder that was sure to accompany the word. “Taylor.” I spat the name like a foul piece of shit leaving my mouth.

“Sweetie…you’re so silly!” She laughed, “That is your name!”

With narrowed eyes, I spoke. “My name is Gage.”

She leaned over and kissed the tip of my nose, pretending she hadn’t heard. “Shhhh, Taylor…” She nestled her head in the crook of my neck and began tracing circles along my abdomen with her fingertip.

I chose not to argue this time. There was no point. She actually made herself believe I was Taylor Hanson.

And I loved her so much that I didn’t care.

I remember the day I told her I was thinking about cutting my hair. Spiking it up in the front like most of the other guys at school. She had a conniption.

“Are you CRAZY? Your hair is so long and blonde…your eyes are so blue…it’s perfect.” When she eventually calmed down, she sauntered over to me and pressed her body against mine, curling her arm behind my neck to wrap a strand of my hair around her pinky finger.

“You’re not really going to cut it, are you Ta-- I mean, Gage?” She looked up at me innocently and blinked, batting her eyelashes feverishly.

I worried about what she'd do if I cut it. Probably dump me. I didn't think I could bear losing her. “N-no…I guess not.”

She smiled sweetly. “Good.” After giving me a quick peck on the cheek, she skuttled off to join her friends on the other side of the cafeteria. I found a table by myself and sat down to eat.

I’m not going to sit here and let you think that I didn’t know what I was. I was the replacement. The spare tire. The runner-up. If she couldn’t have Taylor Hanson, she was going to have the next best thing: a look alike.

I inspected myself in the mirror. Personally, I didn’t even think I looked that much like him. His face was more defined and modelesque; his eyes bigger and his lips more curved and pouty. And I didn’t possess even a fraction of the soul and passion he felt for his music. I knew I didn’t have that angelic yet rugged perfection that I knew she admired in Taylor.

But the worst was when we made love. Hearing her scream his name in such a state of pure ecstasy…pleasuring her while she thought of someone else. It was as though she was dreaming out loud, calling his name into my ear, making me realize what I’d never live up to. How I was playing the role of someone I knew I wasn’t. Constantly chasing after that ideal image of her beloved Taylor Hanson.

So it wasn’t really a surprise when I snapped. I couldn’t take it anymore. Blinded by the love I felt so intensely for her, I would never give her up. As long as I remained her Taylor, she’d keep me. But Gage would always live in the shadow of the artificial Taylor that I had concocted. I knew I couldn’t live without her, but I couldn’t live as this cheap copy just to keep her happy.

The day I left her house after she suggested I get voice lessons and buy a fourth pair of leather pants was the day that I stopped by the pharmacy on my way home.

I wasn’t even myself. That sounds pretty funny, coming from me. I wasn’t even myself. I was myself hovering above my body that looked like a contorted version of Taylor Hanson. If you squint your eyes a bit and stand sorta far away, you could pass for him, she'd told me once.

I felt strangely calm and my fingers didn’t even shake as I cut into the page torn from a magazine, leaving a neat hole in it. Next, I picked up a photo of myself and cut out my face, pasting it meticulously onto the now empty hole above the body in the magazine. After I finished that, I found a pencil and paper and wrote a brief note. Then I set MMMBop on repeat, blasting the song from the CD player, and sat down at the kitchen table. I reached once again for the scissors, brought them to my head, and began shearing off large chunks of the blonde hair that she had loved so dearly. I watched in amazement as they fell to the table in front of me, landing so delicately, until they amounted to a satisfying pile.

At last, the time had come. I smiled, popping a handful of pills into my mouth. No more of this.
No more.

No answer. She tried the doorknob. It was unlocked. Walking into his house, she heard MMMBop playing loudly in another room. Following the sound, she walked into the kitchen, gasped, and halted in the doorway.

His head was lying in a mound of hair, pale blue eyes staring blankly into space, white foam pouring out of his mouth. One hand rested on an empty bottle of pills, the other dangled at his side. She approached him in a state of slow disbelief, eyeing the photo of Taylor in which his head had been carefully cut out. Her boyfriend’s face smiled at her from its new position on top of Taylor’s body.

She winced and picked up the note beside him, biting her lip as she read the words he wrote.

I love you. I tried to be him, I really did. Why couldn’t you just love ME? You wouldn't. You WOULDN'T.

Now how do you like THIS Taylor Hanson? No more screaming HIS name at night. You’ll be screaming mine. And I predict, it will most likely not be out of pleasure.