Hi, all!
Okay, so here’s the news: last night was a wonderful! Did we expect anything else? (Dinner with Chloe, coaching with my make-up, and then actually out there, in the great outside world! Crossing the street in front of oncoming traffic...headlights on that blond haired lady in the long sweater coat and peasant skirt: me! And then back inside...at the meeting...all those kindred spirits.)
I'm not quite sure what I expected: maybe bells or fireworks or something. A huge fuss and a fluttering about me would have been nice!

Well, that didn’t happen. I was just accepted as normal. And maybe that’s the best welcome of all. No big deal: “Hi, Karen. Nice to see you. We missed you last month.” That was all. Kinda nice, now that I think about it. I guess the other thing that stands out today...the day after...was how comfortable I felt with myself. I have been told that people who go to Esprit, even those who have been closeted as I have been, find it surprising how quickly they are able to shift into "girl" mode and how easily and comfortably they are able to stay there. That's exactly how I felt last night. completely at ease...I just felt like I was "me." No labels. No recriminations. No second guessing myself: "What will she think if...?" Simply "me."
It wasn't too hard changing back into "boy" mode when I had to come home. I expected it would be. But, oh, it was hard this morning, knowing I would have to stay there.
My wife didn't say anything when I shaved the face on Sunday. (Though, as I mentioned, there were words the week before, when I told her: mostly aimed at trying to shame me into leaving the beard as it was.) And there was nothing said about going to the meeting dressed. (Though she made sure her silence spoke volumes.) But there were certainly words spoken last night when I got home. She was angry and clearly looking for a fight. (This at 12:30 am, after a long day and a long drive.)
She was upset because my son got up when he heard the car and came out to see me. (The lights were out when I got home, and I assumed people had gone to bed and were asleep by then.) I brought my things into the kitchen, intending to put them away next morning before anyone got up. We hugged, (in the hallway, he didn’t see anything,) and he went back (I thought) into his bedroom. The light was out and the door was closed. I took my bag down the hallway, and he was in the bathroom with the door open. He saw the Staples bag, and asked what I had bought. I told him that I hadn't bought anything. (He would have wanted to see it.) I just told him the truth: that I had a towel and a washcloth in it. Why did I take a towel and a washcloth to a meeting, he asked. Because they only had paper towels at the clubhouse, I lied, and they were hard on my face. Not a very satisfactory explanation, but it was the best I could do, and he left it at that. She, on the other hand, got up out of bed to follow me into the ensuite, then back into the bedroom where she proceeded to lecture me on "what we had agreed to," which was my leaving things in the car until morning.
I'm afraid I wasn't having much of it. I told her that the lights were out. I assumed, logically, that people had gone to bed, and I could discreetly remove things from the car, so he/she could use it in the morning, and I would take her car. (The key for which had been left at my place on the kitchen table, so intentions were clear.) There's not much point in reporting the whole conversation. She was angry...and truth be told, I believe she would have been happy to find any excuse to vent. (She's a great believer in venting, no matter what the cost to anyone else.) We had already agreed not to have these conversations in the bedroom, and not to have them late at night, but this was too good an opportunity to miss, apparently. She thought she could shame me, and so she jumped at the chance. She went on for half an hour or more, but after the first exchange, I'm afraid I simply refused to respond. Apparently it's a bad and shameful thing if I don't do exactly whatever it is that we "agreed to," but it's okay for her. If I were interested in continuing the conversation...I'm not,but if I were...I'd ask her about that little inconsistency. Based on past experience, I'd estimate that would be good for about half an hour of nastiness, and I'm oh, so tired of that.
One of the comments that came across clearly last night was that the life of a trans person was a lonely one. Listening to the people around the table last night, (and reading the forums on-line,) I can certainly see that it's true. It's hard, coming home night after night to a silent house. I know. It's been almost 30 years since I've done that, but I have, and I remember it well, if not fondly. But it's lonely coming home to a harpy, too, who is determined to use every opportunity to tear you down any way she can. I wonder, sometimes, could living alone be that much worse than this? And I wonder, too; what, if anything, is worth saving here?
It was an unhappy ending to an otherwise wonderful evening. And if Chloe will be generous enough to offer me a place to change, yes, I have every intention of dressing for next month’s meeting, too. Despite all, I can still feel the glow.
So there. As Walter Cronkite used to say at the end of his newscasts: “And that’s the way it is. (I'm still dancing!\:D/) Good night.”
Hugs,
Karen