Under Siege

Recently, I went out of town and took my friend’s trailer. I was invited to attend a conference of people who know me as a man. It was to be held in a small town, so I got reservations in a campground and stayed the whole weekend. Remember I said it was a small town? Not much happens after five pm.

Still, I got out. See the picture? It’s my Sunday, go to meeting outfit, without makeup. That reminds me, I need a makeover, and some serious training. While on my trip, though, I wrote. Did I tell you that I write fiction? I’m currently writing a murder mystery with a transgender character. I’ll tell you more about that later, anyway, while writing, I was flooded with memories from my own life.

Since my resolution to transition, those memories have increasingly bombarded me. Dealing with those memories has become an emotional thing, though.

You see on one hand, they provide confirmation that yes, I was born with gender dysphoria and I should’ve transitioned years ago. On the other hand, controlling the tears is sometimes hard. So much of my life was wasted and if I had only seen things the way they were . . . there is just too much (if only).

I’m under siege, not sure when the memories will attach. It’s like PMS and I didn’t get the right plumbing. Oh that I could’ve been given the right plumbing. Anyway, during the bombarding, I remember events, that if only they had played out the right way, I would be a woman today. Isn’t it funny how we can generally pinpoint the moment in our life when things went to hell?

To be fair, however, I had a good life, it just wasn’t the feminine one I wish I had. Well, there were aspects, but everybody has those. Then again, I would’ve made it through certain things easier if I didn’t have the masculine thing to deal with, too. See it’s like PMS?

Recently, I was hit by a few of those moments and the memories forced me to admit something to myself. Sound interesting? Maybe it is. Let me explain,

During puberty, I had a friend who was probably gay. And of course I was transgender, although that term wasn’t even invented yet. In my innocence, I didn’t understand. I’d also been indoctrinated from the beginning of my life. My masculine self was taught an attraction to females.

I loved girls. I still do, but as I said, there were small events that if they had been acted on, my life would’ve played out differently.

As we all know, most men think with their penis. Satisfaction in life is usually determined by how much attention that penis receives. As for me, I noticed a disconnect at an early age. Performance anxiety left me unhappy, but if only . . .

The friend I mentioned, and I, used to hang out together. He patiently listened to my suggestion that we pretend we were girls. Little did I know that fantasy was a solitary, and not a group thing. I wonder where that friend is now.

I stared at a billboard today and notice an attraction to a pretty girl. The attraction shocked me though, because it wasn’t about sex. I wanted to emulate her. I wanted to do my makeup like hers.

Okay, I’m sure you caught on by now. As my mind turns to unfulfilled wishes, in my old age, I’ve discovered something new. As I unlearn fifty-something years of programming, My mind has made room for other possibilities. No. I’m not gay. I’m a heterosexual female. And Damn, I never thought you would hear that from me, especially when you consider my post titled Great Minds Think Alike. I still hate those macho types, but . . .