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"Is that her?" I wonder to myself. I want to go up and introduce myself, but the idea of blundering into an introduction with the wrong person horrifies me. I can just imagine myself, in drab, saying "Hi, I'm Rachael, your chat friend from Transgender Forum" and the resulting scream thrilling the onlookers. I study the woman more closely before making my approach. She's got appropriately dark hair, but I didn't think hers was that long. Of course, hair does grow, and I don't know how old that pic I saw in the chat room really is. And she seems taller than I expected. She doesn't really look like I thought she looked, but those GIF pics aren't all that great.
The brunette in the corner sips her coffee, seemingly oblivious to my scrutiny. She's alone, but she doesn't seem to be looking around, expecting anyone. I decide the best thing to do is walk by and see if she recognizes me. I move toward her table, making sure to pull out my long hair from under my coat as I near her. She's not going to make this easy--she doesn't look up at all. My doubts are growing stronger by the minute that this mystery woman really is Susan, my GG chat friend who I finally have the opportunity to meet. I sit nearby, and the brunette glances at me without a flicker of recognition or interest. Okay, she's not Susan. Even though I am a few minutes late, Susan is even later.
My mouth has gone dry from nerves. Susan will be the first person from TGF chat I have met in person. Horror stories about cyberfriends meeting and finding one another to be totally different in the flesh flash through my mind. It seems ironic, because if anything, I'm more likely not to be like Susan's knowledge of me; I am traveling in drab for the day, unfortunately, because I only have a few hours away from business. Susan knows and likes Rachael, but she has seen only one picture of me in drab and does not think of me in that way. I am doubly anxious not only that Susan be as I expect, but also that I make a good impression on her.
I stand in line to get a Coke--nothing like a little caffeine to calm the system--and just as I am about to place my order I hear, "Hi!" It is Susan at last, and she's with a very tall man. I've never seen pictures of Susan's SO but Susan introduces us and this is indeed Rebecca in drab. This is a bit of a surprise, although not an unpleasant one. Rebecca is a TV and they've been having relationship problems which led to a recent separation. I'm pleased to see them together. I have talked to both of them for many hours, usually about similar relationship difficulties we are experiencing. I find that it helps to be able to talk to someone with whom you are not intimately involved to understand the issues from the other partner's perspective, and I think that especially Susan and I have helped each other in this way quite a bit. Susan has been coming to terms with Rebecca's crossdressing. In fact one night I stayed on line with her in the TGF chat room while she waited nervously as Rebecca dressed to be with her for the first time. I was so proud of her and happy for Rebecca that they were able to be together that night--I wished so much that my own wife would be able to do the same for me, and Susan's acceptance offered me a much needed ray of hope at that time. The news of their separation came as a blow to me even though Susan says that crossdressing is not the issue over which they have parted. I would love to be able to help them resolve their problems, but I can't even manage my own.
I ask them if they'd like anything and then we sit down with our drinks. Susan had also wondered whether or not she would recognize me but she had no problem. With my long hair I tend to look fairly similar in drab and out--that is one of the main reasons I don't go out en femme in Hong Kong. I'm amused that we both had the same concern and that it was totally unfounded. I've brought small gifts from Hong Kong for both Susan and Rebecca. These are necklaces carved from colored stone into bats, fish, and coins--not a twisted fashion statement on my part, but Chinese symbols for long life, good health and good fortune. They are strung with multi-colored thread in a clever way which allows the length to be adjusted from about 18 inches to 30 inches. Rebecca is particularly taken by hers and puts it on immediately. I find myself feeling somewhat shy as we talk. In the chatroom I am quite outgoing and have no problem telling people honestly about myself, discussing, asking and offering advice and support on all kinds of issues. But in person I feel awkward. Both Rebecca and Susan, who seems especially at ease, help me to gradually relax and enjoy their company. Susan is the first GG I have met who knows about my TS nature, and for her it is simply not an issue of concern. She calls me "Rachael" with total ease--in fact, at one point I ask her if she knows my drab name, which she does, but apparently it does not even occur to her to use it.
We decide to go to a local mall. It's been raining since I arrived, I had lost my umbrella on the airplane, and of course any excuse to go shopping is a good one. On the drive over we talk and I can tell that Rebecca is still in a great deal of pain over the separation. From my own perspective I am surprised that a marriage can survive the revelation of a transgender partner but flounder on other issues. In my own marriage the existence and expression of my transgendered nature is such a huge source of conflict that all others pale into insignificance. Clearly, though, that is not the case here.
As we talk during the drive, Rebecca reveals a very interesting fact. Her father was also transgendered. Rebecca had not known this until recently, when she came out to her family. I think about my own father--no way, unless he is covering superbly. He has always been a liberal man except that he makes no secret of his dislike of "wimps" and men who are less than typically masculine. This has often quietly pained me, and I wonder what it must have been like to have been raised by a transgendered father and be transgendered oneself. Lost opportunities for acceptance, though, would be cause for regret because of Rebecca's father's need to keep his feelings a secret from his children. I hope that as a transgendered parent myself, I give my children love, tolerance for the diversity of others, and the knowledge that whatever they are and however they feel, I will always love and accept them. At the same time I am plagued by my own need to hide my feelings from my children to protect them and myself from the cruelty of others; and I fear that in hiding from them I may be creating a distance between us that blocks such closeness.
In the mall we go first to TJ Maxx, on of my favorite stores. I find an umbrella that has a reproduction from The Creation of Man scene on the Sistine Chapel--Michelangelo's vision of the hand of God touching the hand of Adam. It is beautiful and I have to have it, even though umbrellas and I are at best the most temporary of partners--they seem to think of me as a one-night stand and try to move on as soon as possible. Indeed, we are not even out of the mall before Susan points out that my new umbrella's gone missing! After the umbrella find we look at the jewelry, but it has been picked over pretty well and only some unpleasant remnants that I'm not desperate enough to want litter the stands. On the way to pay I spot the sunglasses rack. I've been admiring a picture of my friend Sally on TGF in which she's wearing some oversized sunglasses, and here are a pair that are fairly similar. I ask Susan if she thinks they are too big for me and she suggests I try them on in the store. This is a first for me--having someone actually encourage me to try on something femme. Even though it is as small a thing as sunglasses, I'm delighted and so happy to have her acceptance. Both Susan and Rebecca think the glasses look good, so into the shopping cart they go. We look around some more, then go to Lane Bryant. They have a metallic gold mesh belt that I love, and again Susan encourages me to try it on. Now I feel quite awkward, as this is not so simple as a pair of glasses--the belt calls attention to itself, as does a man trying on things in a women's clothing store. I also need to pull the belt up quite a bit higher than my masculine waistline (such as it is). I don't want to ask to go into a changing room, and so there's no hiding what's going on, but no one notices, or at least no one comments. Lane Bryant's is pretty quiet and they are probably happy to have the business. It is a good thing that I've summoned the courage to try on the belt, because the size I'd originally picked isn't quite right and a metallic belt isn't exactly something to which you can add holes with an icepick. Looking around the mall a bit more, time runs out on us and we have to leave all too soon. As Rebecca and Susan drop me off we make a date to get together for dinner my last night in Boston. I'm hoping they'll have the chance to meet me en femme--I'm a bit worried about not passing and embarrassing them, but they assure me that they would be happy to go out with Rachael. We part with a mutual feeling of warm friendship, and I look forward to our next meeting with excitement.
It has actually been less than a year that I have had the confidence to go out in public en femme, and I have never been out with anyone else except one Halloween many years ago. The first time I really went out in public happened the previous summer. I had rented a room specifically to dress en femme in a motel in a town on the eastern shore of Lake Michigan. Although the desire to go out en femme was strong, I didn't have any confidence in my appearance at all. In talking with my friends in TGF, I was very envious of those who socialize, shop, and dine as women, but I did not think it would be possible for me to do so. I planned to dress by myself and stay in my hotel room and watch television, which I proceeded to do. After I colored my hair, I put on my black short sleeved knee-length T shirt dress from Lands' End, black hose and black pumps. I pulled the hair from the sides of my head back, fastened it with a black barrette, then brushed the back part forward over my shoulders. After I did my makeup and nails I felt very dissatisfied sitting alone in my room. The television was turned on more out of habit than because I was watching anything--it seems like turning on the TV when you enter a motel room is practically a law in America. I glanced at the TV occasionally as I was waiting for my nails to dry. A talk show was on--it was not TG based, but what was significant for me was that many of the women in the audience were quite plain--either overweight or poorly dressed or unkempt--and I realized that they were a fairly representative cross-section of the women that I see everyday. While some were beautiful, many were not. As I looked back and forth between the television audience and my mirror I realized that I could indeed go out and even pass--that my original goals had simply been unrealistic. With my current body shape I was not likely to be beautiful, but I could be taken for a woman. The thought thrilled me, and I resolved to go out that very night. I decided to go for a drive, as it was quite late and I didn't think I was ready yet to go to a bar or club. I grabbed my keys and headed out the door!
I managed to stick my head out of the door before fright drove me back into the room.
The second try saw me take two steps outside before hurrying back.
By the third try I managed to make it to my car door, four whole steps outside my motel room door. My hands were shaking too badly to get the car key in the lock, though, so I returned to the room to recuperate and try again.
The fourth attempt out the door found me in the car. And once I was in the car my courage took over and I went for a drive. I felt wonderful, after the initial waves of fear dissipated. Occasionally another car would pull alongside me and the occupants never honked their horns rudely, pointed fingers, laughed, or fired handguns in my direction. My confidence soared, and as I drove a very strange desire came over me--I had a tremendously strong impulse to go somewhere and tell people that I was TG and ask them how I was doing! Fortunately good sense prevailed, but I really wanted to interact with someone, not just drive, as pleasant as that was. A late-night restaurant came up and it struck me as a safe place to try. I was about to park and go inside, but I noticed two policemen inside--so I decided that the drive-through window was a safer first attempt. There was a rather long line and while I was waiting I practiced asking for a Diet Coke in my best femme voice. "This is going to work just fine," I thought to myself, "I can speak into the microphone and even if they think it is a man they may not place the voice with the actual car, but they will see me and I can get their reaction to my appearance." So I was dismayed when I pulled up to the microphone and saw that not only did they not have Coke products, but Pepsi (and I hadn't been practicing "May I please have a Diet Pepsi"!), but also that the microphone was out of order and I would have to talk to the staff in person! Totally flustered, I whispered my order at the same time the counterman greeted me, so he didn't hear me and asked me to repeat my order. I did, but still too quietly and he asked again. When I finally managed to convey what I wanted my voice was lower than I'd hoped, and I felt that I'd been read. But the man in the restaurant did not flinch when my hand with its red lacquered nails reached his to pay and he gave no particular sign that indeed he had read me, although he did not say "ma'am" when he thanked me as he had done when he originally greeted me. I decided to interpret the whole thing as a success, albeit one equally frightening and thrilling--obviously he had visually taken me for a woman originally, and I had my soda! However, I felt that I had pushed to the limit what I could take as far as human interaction for that evening. I did not want to return to the motel room yet, so I went for a drive along the lake.
The next morning at the motel I was still ecstatic, and although I did have to change back to drab and check out by noon I wanted to have more experiences as a woman. I dressed in a turquoise dress and did my hair as I had done it the previous night, only fixing it with a white and gold barrette which matched my shoes. Suntan hose completed the outfit and I stepped out of the room fully confident and looking forward to partaking of the motel's free breakfast buffet. When I arrived at the buffet the room was quite crowded and there were no seats available. After looking in and getting a nasty look from a grandmother I decided not to brave the room but to take a walk around the motel instead. It was a beautiful sunny day and I felt absolutely glorious. I sat in a lounge chair by the pool for some time and the peculiar desire of the previous night returned: to tell people I am TG and ask their opinion on how I was passing. Instead I walked along the sidewalk of the motel, and as I did so I encountered a petite woman in her thirties walking her dog who smiled at me and a man in his 60's who worked as a repairman for the motel. I approached him with some trepidation, but he wished me good morning and smiled. This was remarkable! I was getting better treatment than I ever get in drab, when people tend to avoid eye contact with the long-haired strange-looking person. I passed more people and everyone was polite, except the grandmother who gave me another scowl as she left the breakfast buffet. Whether she read me and disapproved or was just jealous that I was prettier than her I do not know--or perhaps she wore that expression permanently in an effort to avoid having to find another that worked as well for her.
I counted both the outings a success, though, and I gained the confidence to go out more. Indeed, I reveled in the emotions of the previous evening, when I drove out of town following my restaurant visit and came to a closed business with an empty parking lot away from anything else. I stepped out of the car to enjoy the cool evening air. Gazing up at the stars I felt filled with an intense inner peace. The Milky Way filled the sky with brilliance; it was a beautiful night and as the cool breeze played along my arms and legs (and yes, up my dress) I felt that for the first time in my life I was actually the way I should be. I felt right and whole. As I looked at the stars, the most beautiful meteor streaked across the sky, so majestic that the intense blue of the flame was visible, and I felt that I,too, like Adam, had been touched by the hand of God.
Susan, Rebecca, and I are at dinner and we are all wearing pants. I'd planned on being en femme but my plans had gone awry. I'd spent the afternoon with some college friends of mine who don't know about Rachael. It was a wonderful afternoon and I'd played with their young son who I'd not met before. I made an instant friend when I read him a book called The True Story of the Three Little Pigs (told from the wolf's perspective) with funny voices and a hand-puppet. I even impressed his grandmother. My maternal instincts were at play, and I stayed far too long. When I returned to my hotel, Susan and Rebecca were already waiting and had been there for some time. I didn't feel that I could keep them waiting another hour or more while I got ready, especially as they had a trip planned for early the next morning, so I go in drab. I am, of course, disappointed, but it is my own fault--I wonder if I am ambivalent about being en femme. Certainly I am filled with the desire to present myself as a woman, but fear still holds me back sometimes, and especially now that I am with people that I care about I do not want to look ridiculous. My confidence seems to wax and wane like some mysterious tidal force that cannot be explained. However, I take pleasure in their company and I look forward to the next phase of my trip, with my friend Sally, and four days en femme without a pair of pants to be seen!
Postscript: It is now more than a year since our visit together and Susan and Rebecca have divorced. Rebecca has reconsidered her gender issues and no longer believes she is TV, but instead TS. She lived full-time for some time with few difficulties and is now post-op. Unfortunately I have lost touch with both of them. My on-line TG friendships seem like a rare flower, blooming beautifully, but only for a short time.
