Out At The Neighborhood Place

[Guest Daiyu Hurst]

Hai hai, sisters! Donna Jean was dear enough to help me pull my head out of, ahem, introspection, and come back and do more than merely lurk here. Thanks hon!

I meet with my new general practitioner today to get my million-mile checkups started. The GT I contacted should be back from vacation tomorrow, and hopefully I'll have my first session scheduled before week's end.

Based on the recommended roadmaps, I'm being very deviant. I've come out to one co-worker I know I can trust; to the folks at the bar at the local Neighborhood Place [name omitted for fear of Search Engine Optimization], and crossed dressed there in public last night (blouse and Mary Janes but my regular denim jeans). I have to tell this story; I'm going to use real first names, but with my geographic location unknown, I don't see this ever leading to any unwanted discoveries.

But before I begin, I want to say this. I know some of you girls (and the ftm guys perhaps too) have so much anxiety about presenting and struggle so hard to reach this place; that family and co-workers will accept you. That when you're ready to go full-time in public, you'll pass and not be read. I read your experiences here, and my heart goes out to each and every one of you. I worry about how it will go here at work when I come out. They showed me a lot of love when my sister died in March. I'd hated working here for years, but after that, decided it was the right place to be, and I'd try to work harder to serve them and be a nicer person. And I will probably try to come out way earlier than the conventional wisdom recommends. If I'm fired for it, then it was NOT the place to be after all. At this point, a psychologist would probably say I am in the midst of decompensating and in severe danger, but I believe my eyes are wide open. I don't think Im doing it completely impulsively, although admittedly, somewhat. Ive considered each move well in advance of doing it, then simply decided to decide when the moment approaches. With each passing day, I feel more inclined to transition openly. I know this is asking for trouble. I risk being tagged as a flaming drag queen. But in addition to it feeling right for me, it might bulldoze the way for others who transition after me. With some luck, people will sometimes stop to ask me what I am and what I am doing. And I can use that to politely articulate how my sisters struggle to hard to have the same normal lives Mr. and Mrs. Jones enjoy.

Oh, and I know I risk becoming a victim of a hate-crime, too. Well, the world that forced me to adopt a fully-male persona as a coping mechanism, a mal-adaptation to early life trauma, also taught me how to fight back. Unless Im being shot at, I know how to turn the attackers force back against them. Its been a long while since I had to do it, but I know how. Kitae means to become stronger. And that which doesnt kill me, just makes me stronger.

So, I hope you wont take any of this as disrespect for your struggle. Ok, on to my story.

The [name omitted] near my home is a favorite spot for the folks from other foodservice establishments. You'll see greeters, servers, buspersons, cooks, and even managers come there to have a drink or two after they close at their restaurant. As a group, these are some of the most genuine people I've ever met. My role in information technology is a service role largely, and I love people, yet often find them maddening. The foodservice folk share this experience, and have tales of dealing with customers that resonate with me a lot. And how they maintain a general demeanor of cheerfulness, I'll never know; in this state, they are being economically raped every day at a wage of $2.13/hour.

So Saturday night, Jessica comes in with SarahBeth. Jessica is Jon's GF, and Jon is the spitting image of Bud Bundy. They are always a hoot, and Jessica is always a treat for my eyes. I've heard them talk about SarahBeth but don't recall meeting her. She's wearing clogs with huge heels, but she's already tall. She's loud and brassy, too, with a look that's like soft-biker-chick, and Amazon height. So hawt. RAWR! Meanwhile I'm just dressed normally, still pretending to be the man I've been for years.

She's already gotten a head start at another establishment before she arrived, and is buzzing pretty good. I'd started with a dirty martini which didn't last long and followed with a shot and a beer, so I'm also buzzing pretty good. I buy her two or three drinks as I listen to her exploits. Jessica is grinning from ear to ear while she listens. Finally I make my stumbling attempt at a pickup, which is declined, but with a big smile. I'm not quiet in doing this, and some of the other assembled folk like Katie and Liz are noticing what I'm up to.

Eventually, Mike the bartender (possibly the world's greatest bartender) cuts her off. She lingers a while but leaves soon thereafter. Katie comments that I seemed almost desperate in my attempt to pick up SarahBeth. Well there's a regular named Aaron, who's not there that night, who both Katie and Liz have spent time with in a relationship. He's young, handsome, and just feminine enough that I'll confess to my sisters here, that I find him attractive. But his promiscuity would probably exclude him from consideration. At any rate, I say within earshot of all at the bar, that if I was desperate, I'd hit on Aaron. This causes quite a hoot.

Sidebar: I love this place and won't stop patronizing it. I will very much miss alcohol, it's all I have left after leaving all other intoxicating substances behind me. But with a 40% increase in the breast cancer rate among women who drink as little as 3 drinks one night each week, I will leave alcohol for the rarest of events and subject to the greatest of discretion.

So.... going to this place on Sunday is rare for me. But I decide to go. Mike's off, Liz is tending bar, and Katie is in attendance. They both make comments about my remark from the night before regarding Aaron. I explain that I was kidding, mostly. I don't sense that they were offended by suggesting that someone would be desperate to sleep with someone they'd both been with, since each of them had moved on from that long ago, and they each have told stories about him that lead one to conclude they'd never be with him again.

But Katie persists, and asks if I'm sure I'm not gay. I repeat something I've said on several occasions: Of course I'm gay, I'm a lesbian trapped in a man's body. Well this always gets a laugh. But this time I decide to push this all the way. "I'm serious. I love women. I love women a lot. And I want to be one, too. The laughter begins to slowly subside a bit.

Now, Michelle, the manager, is close by and is hearing this. I love Michelle so much, she and I have almost identical tastes in music, and I've bar hopped a couple times with her and Mike after they closed up (the local honky-tonk stays open until 3am but I've been there until 6am before).

In for a penny, in for a pound. So I begin to tell a very brief, condensed version of my story, how I've been this way my whole life, became aware of it at 14, first considered the change at 21, etc. And that I seriously intend on pursuing the change now, finally, at 53. No one is getting any unpleasant looks on their face, most are still smiling, and Liz and Michelle have a genuinely compassionate look on their faces. A few I don't know are grinning. Oh, I missed Jen, I didn't realize she's there, now I see her. She was a math major, works as a server in a restaurant and as a statistician elsewhere. She and Katie are smiling a look of "I can't believe he's saying this". Katie begins wowing. She wows many times.

I answered a question or two as I recall. Michelle wishes me good luck and goes to sit at the table she uses to do her paperwork. After a few minutes, I walk over to talk to her. She says she thinks I'm pretty brave to do this. I point out that I suppose so, that I'm really scared to death, but determined to do it anyway. I tell her that as part of getting accustomed not only to wearing female clothing, but dealing with being noticed, and behaving femininely without being flambouyant, it would be nice to cross dress there, because its a place I'm so comfortable in. I point out it could be disruptive though. She says if anyone gets out of hand with me, she'll toss them out, and that I should feel as free to dress up there as I would in my own home. She is just so wonderful, I thank her and hug her and return to my barstool. The evening winds down, I pay my tab, and head for home.

So, last night, I was wanting to put on the stuff I bought for future clubbing, while at the office, and I'm logged in to Second Life, roleplaying as Kitae. When I go to the club I frequent there, my character runs dance animation scripts. Since I've started losing weight, I'm a bit lighter on my feet, and I find I can stand at my desk and dance the same moves my avatar is doing, surprisingly well. I wanted to do this last night, but another co-worker has returned to the office and is staying late. I always have the office security camera display open, so I can see anyone entering the building well in advance. Its risky to mess around here, but it's a calculated risk, and I trust my math. I could dance anyhow in male drag, but these are very feminine, seductive dances (Dip me in Chocolate, Danish, Rub-a-dub, Milk and Honey, and so on).

He keeps coming to me to ask questions, so I decide I can't risk it. By the time he finally leaves to go home, it's too late, I'm getting too tired to dance. But just before I leave, I decide to don one of the dress blouses I bought, and the Mary Janes.

I need to see how it feels to drive with these things on, and get out of the car. After falling in the office a few times, I'd figured out I need to keep my knees together. Works for getting out of the car, too. When I walk in these with construct posture, I can feel my butt swing back and forth. I let my awareness alternate between feeling masculine, and feeling feminine. I sometimes do this in regular shoes and always feel wrong, out-of-place. But in the Mary Janes, the feminine awareness is what feels right. I relax my posture somewhat as I walk towards the door.

My sitting ritual is to look for my closer acquaintances, and sit by one if there is room; otherwise, I look for a spot that has the most open space around it. Tonight its the last stool near the waitress station, where they keep the fruit for the fru-fru drinks.

OMG. Fruit. LMAO! (Calms down)

Liz spots me from the corner of her eye while shes dispensing another patrons beer, and asks me for my order. Given, she delivers the beer shes just poured to its buyer, and grabs a glass to start pouring mine. Is that one of the new *shirts* you bought yesterday? Yes, I answer. It looks nice. Thanks! She cant see the Mary Janes tho.

My brother-man Chris-of-the-urban-handshake is sitting across the way, and nods my way, then grins large. Hes with his cow-orkers from the steak franchise who happens to be a client of my firm, theyre engaged in boisterous conversation. Nothing is said, no questions come my way. I sit and enjoy my beer, and listen to the music, bopping along, or singing along if the song is one of my favorites. I relax as much as I can and allow my body language to be what it is when Im not faking, when Im not in(male)-character. I see women do various things with their feet when sitting at a bar. I try some of these foot movements and poses while Im sitting there. More work needed here.

Eventually, its bathroom time. To the mens as usual. Trying to walk tall in these as before, I slip and nearly fall on my derrierre while walking past the last seating area of the dining room. As I enter the bathroom, a great howl goes up from the table I was closest to. The howl subsides to a dull roar as I exit and return to my seat.

Another patron enters, someone I dont know. They scan for a seat like me, and find sitting next to me their only option. Some guy, he looks older than me. I dont strike up conversation because, frankly, the only thing I have on my mind is me and my transition, and somehow I doubt hes interested.

He places a go order, and gets a drink. Finishes it, gets his order and leaves. The large-busted blonde to his left that I failed to mention earlier has also left. I finally finish my second beer, pay my tab, tell Liz to be safe on her trip to Cedar Pointe later that night, and head home.

I had a good time. Im undecided whether Ill repeat this tonight or not. From experience, I know the crowd will be different than last night. But always drawn from the same pool.

[Guest Donna Jean]

.

Kitae!

Well, I'm not too sure how I did it, but it worked GREAT!....LOL..

That's a wonderful piece there and tells us a lot about you...

You've come to the place that so many of us get to. Hammer time...our realizations strike and we know what we have to do...that's where you are now...starting with a GT and taking those first steps of the thousand mile journey...

I'm happy that you've found us...

I really do think that you're gonna like it here...

I'm personally very glad to have you here...

Now, I need to go rest my eyes....

HUGGS & LOVE

Donna Jean

[Guest Daiyu Hurst]

Well, it was almost as fun to write up as it was to experience it. Usually when I conjur up such a wall-o-text, I get the "I am drinking from a firehose" reponse. It's refreshing to hear I only wore your eyes out, LoL.

I'll try to find time to jump into chat sometime soon.

[Guest Opal]

Hi Kitae,

Wow! Well, you can now say you are out in public, and being accepted by your friends. You have made a really major step in your transition, and I imagine it will get easier as you progress. As far as the walk, someone here described it as imagining a rope pulling you forward. I work on it by trying to walk an imaginary foot wide line and keeping my steps parallel. It comes with practice.

Thank you so much for sharing with us!

Huggs,

Opal