Okay. Well, I’ve shared my big news. I am trans. I think. Wait…I know. Well….pretty sure I am.
It’s rare for me to write an entry so soon after the last. But, I can’t stop thinking about this thing. It’s like every waking moment I have this fantasy. This dream. And I’m sad and frustrated because I don’t think it’ll ever happen. But, here is what I wish could and would happen to me on any night.
I’m putting the finishing touches on my night’s outfit. Fixing my makeup so I look just right. Feminine, pretty, but not tarty. I’m very surprised and pleased with my choices.
There’s a soft knock on my door. I run to answer it, checking myself out one last time in the foyer mirror before opening the door. I know who it is, and I’m instantly shy, and very very nervous. It’s hard for me to make eye contact.
Who’s at the door? It’s my date. It’s a guy. A cute guy! He’s wearing maybe jeans, an oxford shirt, a nice dark blazer and nice black leather shoes. His hair is short and perfectly mussed, when in actuality he spent 30 minutes getting it to look like he didn’t touch it. He sees me looking at the floor and he quickly checks me out. A huge smile breaks out. Beautiful smile, with beautiful teeth. Just a hint of facial hair. Enough to look masculine but not too much so he looks like a Swedish Death Metal fan.
Of course, he hands me the requisite flowers. They’re tasteful and perfect. I invite him in.
“Hi, Jeffrey,” I say. Yeah, his name is Jeff in my dreams. (It’s a long story.)
“Wow,” he says, “You look fantastic.” I blush at the compliment. Even though I believe him, it’s hard for me to take compliments. He even leans in and gives me a quick, sweet kiss on the cheek. Once I get the flowers in water, I’m ready to go. Jeff has made himself comfortable on the couch. As soon as I walk into the room, he stands.
“Are you hungry, Corey?” he asks. He helps me put on my jacket. He smells wonderful. No matter how much I’d like him to kiss me passionately, it’s not going to happen. Tonight, I’m being a good girl.
Yes, Jeff knows about me. He knows who I am. He couldn’t care less about my “parts.” He loves women. And to him, and to me, that’s what I am. And to him? I’m a very pretty, nice, funny, smart and loving woman. That’s all he sees. I can tell from everything this boy does that HE feels lucky to take ME out on a date!
Honestly, and I say this with no hint of self pity: that’s never happened. I’ve never felt a person, male or female, taking me out…and HIM being the nervous one. HIM being the one subtly trying to impress me. But this night, Jeff is on his super-best behavior. He’s trying to woo me. His boyish attempts to hide his attraction and… just plain INTEREST in me is soooooo adorable.
Jeff does everything right. At dinner he looks into my eyes the entire time. He’s transfixed. He takes my hand across the table, and softly rubs his thumb up and down the back of my hand. He’s wonderful. We talk. A lot. He asks caring questions about me and growing up trans. I ask about what it was like being the star athlete in high school. He’s funny, self effacing yet utterly knows who he is.
And you know what else I dream about happening that night? Nothing. No sex. Nothing fantastical. Just a date. A date with a sexy, handsome, polite, and utterly charming guy. He takes me home after a long over-two-hour dinner and kisses me goodnight. A nice kiss. Not sleazy. He tells me he’ll call me very soon to set up the next date. I stare, watching him leave. I’ve got the stupidest, most wonderful smile.
Jeff leaves, and I enter my apartment. What a great night, I think as I slip off my heels. Then, my phone rings. I don’t immediately recognize the number but I answer anyway. It’s Jeff. He’s on speaker while he’s driving. He couldn’t wait the bullshit three days. He’s calling me five minutes after dropping me off. He asks if I’m busy tomorrow. He wants another date. (And naturally, No. No, I’m not busy.)
And that’s the end. I know, it’s pretty tame and a little boring. But in my whole life, I’ve never had a fantasy I’ve wanted more.