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My Wonderful Obsession Part 30: The Trophy Wife The worst thing about going through a breakup is how it makes you feel afterwards - like a complete and total failure, for instance. Actually it's even nastier when it happens twice in a row. And I know what you're thinking: 'Chin up, Sandy old girl - third time lucky!' or something trite like that. Kath tried that line on me and I told her I had no intention of going through that nightmare again. "Even with Rob?" she kidded. "Especially with Rob!" was my firm reply. But her attempt to lighten my mood did make me stop and think. 'Maybe that's what I should be doing from now on,' I mused. 'Dating hunky guys who have no clue who I really am.' Except for one small problem: I'd have to keep my distance - I already knew how easy it was for me to fall for good-looking men. So Kath's old offer of a job as a housemaid in her big mansion was sounding better all the time. But not really. The truth was, I was terribly depressed about losing Mark and I missed him like crazy. Not just because he was the man in my life, either. I missed everything about my love affair with him - going on dates, hikes, talking about interesting stuff, and how special he made me feel. And I missed how he touched me - I mean, I loved how he caressed my hair, my neck, my arms and my hands. I loved how it felt to be held close and tenderly kissed. And I loved making love with him, even though it was actually gay love. I missed all of it and cursed myself a dozen times a day for letting him go. Still, there were other times when I could think rationally about what had gone down. And those times I reminded myself that his parents had expectations of me that I could never deliver on. Not only that - I had expectations of Mark that, as an admitted gay man, he couldn't deliver on. So, I told myself, as much as it hurt to lose him, his was an impossible love and it was all for the best. But it STILL sucked in the worst way. And even though I'd put away my bedside picture of the two of us, there were still reminders everywhere. Like when Mom asked me to look through the Christmas cards I'd received before she packed them away, in case any thank-you's were in order. I'd forgotten about the one from Bob and Sharon from Knoxville. It was addressed to both me and Mark, and Sharon had written a small note of encouragement: "Be sure to send me a wedding invitation!" I had no idea how in the world I was going to give her the bad news. ***** Well, I should have expected it - a couple of weeks after the big breakup, Mrs. McCowan phoned and spoke to Mom. She told me at breakfast the next morning. "What did she say?" I asked apprehensively. "Just how shocked she was when she found out," Mom replied. "Apparently she asked Mark how you were doing, because he hadn't mentioned you for over a week. Then he told her what happened." "I wonder why he kept it to himself for so long." "Because he felt very badly about it. She thought he didn't want to disappoint her, so he was procrastinating." "I guess that makes sense." "Mrs. McCowan cares a lot for you, Sandra." "She does? Hmm ... yeah, I know she does. I feel so bad about this, Mom ... but like, there's no other way, you know?" "I know, honey. But you need to do something about Megan. She's expecting you to come to her dance recital next weekend. And she doesn't know yet." "Yeah, I was thinking about that. I'm still going to the recital. Maybe I'll tell her when it's over." "You need to tell her soon. It's not fair to keep her in the dark. You know, Mrs. McCowan says she thinks of you as a big sister ... you need to remember that, honey." "Uh-huh. I will, Mom." 'Man, has my life ever gotten complicated,' I thought as I headed out the door for school. 'So many relationships to keep on top of since I started pretending I was a girl.' And so many that had Mark as the common denominator. ***** I'm not sure whom I dreaded seeing more at Megan's dance recital - her mom, her dad, her brother, or Megan herself. I hate disappointing people, or even just being the bearer of bad news. What made a huge difference to my state of mind was that Mom offered to go with me - to 'run interference' as Phil so aptly put it. But still, unfortunately, the event was even more awkward and unpleasant than I anticipated. Mom and I sat near the back of the theater but afterwards I went to find Megan to give her the flower bouquet I'd brought for the occasion. When I gave her a hug she burst into tears. "Why did you and Mark have to break up?" she wailed. I had no clue what to say - obviously Mark or his mom had spilled the beans about what happened, and now I felt like shit for being the cause of it. Thankfully Mark and his dad weren't there but his mom was, and she came right over and hugged me. "I'm so sorry, dear," she said, sounding profoundly disappointed. "I am too," was all I could say in reply. 'I hate my life,' was the thought that kept going through my mind as we left the theater. ***** Arriving home after school one cold day later in January, I saw a message for me to call Dr. Westerman's office. Initially I thought all he wanted was to schedule our next counseling session, but when I spoke to him on the phone he asked me if I'd consent to having a few others present at our meeting. That sounded a little frightening - if I agreed it meant adding even more people to the large number who already knew my secret! "It's part of my study," he explained. "I've been counseling three other people like yourself, Sandra - transgenders. I thought it might be interesting if you could all meet, in a clinical setting, and maybe share your thoughts and experiences with each other. I'd simply be asking a few questions and taking notes." "Uh ... I guess that'd be okay," I replied. Actually it sounded downright scary, but at the same time he had my curiosity aroused. I'd never met anyone like myself before! "That's terrific," said Dr. Westerman. "I've already checked with the others and they're good with that date and time, so we'll see you here. Oh, and I'd like to add an extra hour, if that's okay with you." "Sure, no problem." The appointed time was mid-afternoon on a weekday, so I had a small dilemma. Should I stick my neck out and wear a skirt to school that day, or just go with one of my standard jeans-and-top outfits? I felt like I should look my best for the meeting, in case the other "transgenders," as Dr. Westerman had called them, were well dressed - I didn't want to be judged poorly! But in the end I decided to play it safe, and instead I spent thirty extra minutes on my hair and face in the staff restroom. Then it was on to two city buses to get me to Dr. W's office. I arrived in his building right on the dot of three and dashed into an open elevator, out of breath. As the doors were just starting to close, a well-dressed thirtyish woman quickly stepped in and gave me a nice smile. "Hi," I greeted her, catching my breath before returning the smile. "Uh, what floor?" "Three, please," she replied in a pleasant voice. "That's mine too." The building, being only four storeys, had one of those super-slow elevators, so I was able to check out what the woman was wearing and how her hair and makeup were done. What can I say, I'm always so obsessed with looks! Luckily her eyes were fixated on the floor number display above the doors and she didn't notice my stares. She was quite a bit taller than me, and would have been two or three inches taller even without her high-heeled black leather boots. The most obvious thing about her was the mid-length black fur coat - faux fur, I hoped, but probably the real thing by the look of it. She was wearing a bright red skirt which reached almost to her knees, and the exposed part of her slim legs revealed sheer black hose covering shapely knees and calves. The woman's long, wavy hair was a sandy shade of blonde, and she had it arranged in a ponytail held in place by a red ribbon 'oh'. She was wearing beautiful teardrop-pendant earrings, a bit like the ones I had on but way more expensive looking. Her makeup was flawless, as I expected, and her lip color matched her dress and hair accessory. As I was gazing at her attractive face, thinking how wonderful it would be if someday I could look like her, she pulled off her black leather gloves and I saw that her glossy nails were expertly French-manicured, and her ring finger bore a large solitaire diamond and wedding band. 'Now I REALLY wanna be like her someday,' I thought, shaking my head at the sight. I could also smell her perfume - something expensive and French like Chanel or Dior, I guessed. And I LOVED her gold-trimmed, soft black leather purse - well, 'coveted' would be a better word. It looked just like a Gucci I'd seen in the inflight mag on the way home from Vermont - probably a couple thousand bucks! The door opened when we reached our floor and she let me out first. I turned right and followed the corridor around a corner to Dr. Westerman's door, and as I opened it I noticed the woman was right behind me. 'Holy crap,' I thought, 'SHE isn't coming to the meeting, is she?' Dr. Westerman greeted us both with a smile. "Welcome, ladies. Come right in and take a seat. May I take your coats?" We both slipped off our coats and I unwrapped my scarf, tucking it into a sleeve. The woman tucked her gloves into her purse. And I got a full view of the rest of her outfit - wow, was it ever stylish! She wore a thin black sweater-top with three-quarter sleeves and a deeply-scooped neckline, and it reached about six inches below her waist, which was adorned with a wide red patent leather belt matching the color of her skirt. She was quite slim, even a little bony in places, and her body wasn't quite as shapely as I might have expected. But she did possess decent-sized breasts and very attractive cleavage! Now I wished I'd gone ahead and worn one of MY skirts - and a lot of my other girly stuff too! The woman noticed how I was gawking at her, and she smiled, "Guess I'm a bit overdressed, aren't I?" "Oh, no!" I answered. "I totally LOVE your outfit. You're very beautiful." This time I got a huge smile, and her red lips made her teeth appear just that much whiter. "Thanks," she said. "You're very pretty yourself." With all that distraction, I'd barely noticed the two other women seated in the room. On second glance, one didn't exactly strike me as a real woman - she looked like she might be a middle-aged man in a short-ish brunette wig and wearing a smart-looking navy-blue shift dress and white knit cardigan-style sweater top, but with nice makeup and jewelry. Not too bad looking, I was thinking as I realized that he/she seemed to be checking me out in return. And the other, on closer inspection, was really an effeminate-looking guy, maybe mid-twenties, who like me was wearing jeans but a man's long-sleeved white shirt with a black leather vest, unlike the girl's blouse I had on. He had short dark brown hair, a wisp of hair on his chin and upper lip, and not a trace of makeup - which, as a guy, seemed entirely appropriate. His attitude seemed to be one of plain old boredom - like he wanted to be anywhere else but there. I couldn't figure out why he was! Dr. Westerman began by saying, "I'd like to welcome everyone - thanks for agreeing to come. I know for some of you, appearing in public as your psychological gender is a very difficult and stressful thing to do. For others, this is how you go out in public every day, so it's no problem at all for you - just normal life. But from what you've all told, me, you've never had the chance to meet face-to-face with other people like yourselves. So this is a first for all of you. "What I want to stress is that this gathering isn't about spilling your guts to everyone in the room - it's not an AA meeting and none of you have substance addictions, as far as I know. It's really about sharing your thoughts, your ideas, your experiences and, if you're comfortable, your pain, as you've traveled down this road of changing the gender you were born into. I say IF, because no one should feel obligated to tell anything about themselves that they feel should remain private. "As you all know, I'm writing a research paper on transgenderism, and what I hope to gain from this session is a sense of how different individuals got started down this road, where they're at today in their journey, and what the common threads might be, if indeed there are any. Then, if you've found the session interesting or helpful, and you'd like to meet again, I'd be happy to host another at a future time." 'I dunno,' I thought, 'this is already outside my comfort zone. It'll be hard enough just to get through THIS meeting.' By then, of course, I'd come to realize that the beautiful woman who came in with me must really be a man, hard as that was to fathom. And the only one in the room who was really what he seemed to be was probably our psychologist! Dr. Westerman continued by asking, "Are there any questions?" We all looked at each other, shrugged and said nothing. "Very well then, perhaps we can get started. I'd like each of you to introduce yourselves - first names only please - and tell the others a little about yourselves ... like, for instance, how you began your journey to the opposite gender, what events or experiences influenced your desire to take this huge step in your life. Let's start with the lady to my left." The 'lady' to his left was the middle-aged person. "Well," he/she began, "my, um, journey ... started in high school. Oh, sorry - my name's Betty - short for Elizabeth. The high school I attended was private - a boys' school ... in upstate New York. Um ... sorry, this is very hard for me to do ..." He/she was nervously playing with his fingers, which sported nails painted a dark glossy red. I wondered if his toenails, hidden by the closed-toe conservative black pumps on his feet, were the same color. Okay, now I'm saying "his" because Betty's voice was plainly that of a male, despite his best efforts to sound like a woman. "We can come back to you if you like," Dr. W kindly offered. "No, it's all right, I can do it now - I want to get this out. Anyway, like I was saying, I went to a private boys' school. They had a great sports program, but that wasn't exactly my thing - I've always been a bit short and not very masculine, you see, and so I gravitated to the arts. Lucky for me, they had an amazing drama program, too. I liked acting and singing, and I wasn't a bad dancer ... anyway, in the fall of my freshman year we did an Agatha Christie play, and guess who they picked to play a young lady? The director said I had the perfect look - I'd be very believable. Not only that, I was the perfect size for some of the dresses they had on hand. And my voice hadn't changed yet. Well, I was pretty horrified to have to do that, in front of all the other boys. I was sure I'd get razzed to death, and I'd never be able live it down. "But it wasn't as hard as I expected. We had a great director - he taught me how to play a girl - the voice, the gestures, how to walk, that sort of thing. He was very encouraging. I found myself growing into my role, and the other students did razz me a lot at first but it was all in fun - there wasn't anything especially nasty said or done. I mean, I wouldn't blame them - you should have seen how feminine I had to act. I'll bet they were just happy I got picked and not them! Anyway I loved being on stage, and the best part was getting all the applause at the end. I even had to curtsy instead of bow - but by then I was having the time of my life." Yes, as you can imagine I was paying rapt attention to Betty's story. It sounded SO much like my experience from the year before! And you can bet I could relate to the amazing feeling of being on stage and receiving applause for my efforts. Betty went on: "So long story short, I got chosen to play a female in every play we did, right up till my senior year. And after graduation, I didn't want to say goodbye to that part of my life, so I kept a stash of women's clothing to wear any time I got the chance. It was a lot harder after I got married and had kids. Well, my wife eventually discovered them and that caused a lot of trouble at first, but after a while she was able to accept that it was something I needed to do. I mean, she knew all about what I did in high school - the pictures were right there in my yearbooks! Over the years she became very supportive, and we often shared clothes and went shopping together or out for dinner as girlfriends, if the kids were away at camp or at Grandma's for the weekend. I was five-foot-seven and slim, and I still had my looks, so I could pass fairly well. Until I got older ... by the time I was in my fifties it was a lot harder to fool everyone. Men's faces age a certain way, and it gets harder to speak convincingly like a woman. Anyway, my kids are in California now and my wife passed away a couple of years ago, so I dress at home all day, every day. I work out of my house so I only have to change back when my kids come to visit or when I visit them, or go out for appointments, that sort of thing. I've kept all my wife's clothes and I wear them often to remember her." The rest of us sighed collectively when Betty said his wife had died. 'How very sad,' I thought. But I could totally imagine how special it was for him to be able to wear her clothes. And dress all the time too! Most older guys wouldn't be able to fit women's clothes, but Betty didn't have the thick belly a lot of them had. "Thank you Betty - that was a touching story," Dr. W said. Then he nodded to the well-dressed 'woman' seated next to me. She cleared her throat, and even with only that sound, I figured her voice was much closer to a woman's than Betty's. "Okay, where do I start? Oh yes, my name ... I'm Erica? I used to be Eric - but that seems like a lifetime ago!" She actually giggled when she said that! And now I realized her voice was more effeminate than feminine - you know, how a stereotypical gay guy might sound, but one with an unusually high and effeminate voice, with all the 'S's making that wonderful swishy 'ssss' sound. "I don't ALWAYS look like this," she went on. "Just when I'm going out to meetings ... or cleaning toilets at home!" Another giggle. "Well, I DO try to look my best, but sometimes I go a little overboard?" And another, but then she frowned, trying to look more serious, or so I thought. "So I should tell you how I came to be ERICA. It was about, oh, eighty-three or four? My boyfriend and I decided to take a little car trip to Pennsylvania ... you know, to see the fall colors? Oh yes - how silly of me, I left something out - I AM a gay person ... but if you didn't already figure THAT out, you must be in a coma! Now, come to think of it, you COULD say I've gone hetero ..." More giggles! Erica seemed even more nervous than Betty. Her well-put-together 'chic' appearance didn't exactly synch with the disorganized way she was speaking! And a lot of her statements sounded more like questions, a quirk of female speech I'd noticed with some of the girls I worked with. Her hands were constantly on the move as she spoke, gesturing in a very feminine way that allowed her beautiful nails to reflect the office lighting. But I was fascinated by this person. She probably never had to tell her story before, I gathered. And you've probably noticed I'm referring to Erica as a "her" - because even with her gay-male attributes, or maybe because of them, she came across as more like a real woman than Betty did. "Back then it wasn't QUITE as fashionable to be gay," Erica continued, one of her manicured hands making the point. "People were utterly freaked about AIDS ... and SO many closed-minded religious types out there, hmm? So we thought we might have a little TROUBLE? You know, two gay dudes renting a room together? NOT kosher in a lot of places, right? So my GENIUS boyfriend came up with SUCH a brilliant idea - we'd just buy me a dress or two, some makeup, fix up my hair? And voila! His boyfriend would now be his girlfriend! Except behind closed doors ..." More gesturing and giggling! "Now, I wasn't too crazy about the idea at first - I'd NEVER dressed like a girl before? And I was sure everyone would see right through me - but Ted always gets his way. Well, okay, I WAS the only choice - Ted's six-three and built like an Olympic sprinter - he was a star running back on his college team? So there wasn't much chance HE'd look any good in a dress, would he? Now ME - I was five- nine, PAPER thin, I already had my hair in a ponytail, and I guess I had a passable face? So off we went to Nordstrom's, and in no time, Eric became Erica!" Naturally she giggled once again! But you could tell Erica was getting more comfortable speaking to us. I was simply captivated by her expressive style of communication and her amusing turns of phrase, and I was becoming more than interested in her story, if you know what I'm getting at. "I'm SO glad I went along with Ted's idea," she continued. "We had SUCH a fun trip - lots of romantic walks hand-in-hand through the leaves, candlelit dinners ... the whole shebang. It was SO incredible to be able to hold hands and kiss in public? And somewhere along the way I began to really LIKE getting dolled up for him ... and for me too. People treated me SO much better as a woman than they ever did when I was a man. Even Ted - he was always opening doors for me, holding my hand - which I forced him to while I learned to walk in heels - and saying sweet things, like how pretty I was, how this or that skirt made my legs look good? It was SUCH a wonderful trip. And we're still together! So there you have it - my wonderful boyfriend totally corrupted me, and I've never been the same since." "You don't seem to mind," laughed Dr. Westerman. "Thank you, Erica." I was hoping he'd pick the effeminate guy across from me next, but instead he nodded in my direction. "You're next." I'm sure I was at least as nervous as the previous two, but I did my best to hide it as I launched into my own story. "My name's Alexandra? But I prefer Sandra, and my friends just call me Sandy. I guess my journey actually started when I was two or three?" I couldn't believe it - I was starting to talk like Erica! Then I forced myself to go on, describing my family background, how I lost my Dad, how Mom dressed me up like a girl, and later on, how at fourteen my acne-phobia led me to take birth-control pills on the sly. I related the story of Julia tricking me into wearing a skirt at the catering function, and how that event led to more and more experimentation with feminine clothes and makeup; my sixteenth birthday Disney trip, performing on stage as a girl, my job as a waitress, and my ongoing obsession with looking and acting like nothing less than the 'perfect' young lady. No, I didn't get into the gory details of my current hormone treatments, or my disastrous love life - at least not at THAT meeting. The other two 'women' seemed to be paying very close attention to everything I said. Erica never dropped eye contact, but Betty seemed to let his eyes wander all over my body. I almost felt like he was mentally undressing me, like I was getting used to having men do to me at Milestones. The other person had a slightly disgusted look on his face. As you can imagine, Erica was the only who made me feel entirely comfortable. When I finished my story Dr. W thanked me and nodded at our last participant. I was just in the middle of wondering what his story might be when he opened his mouth and began speaking. An indisputably female voice came out of his mouth! "I'm Richard," he/she began, the girlish sound of his voice at odds with his masculine-sounding name. "I've always identified as a male. My parents fought me tooth and nail - they tried buying me all the usual girly-girl shit ... you know, frilly little dresses, Barbie dolls, that kind of crap. But I wouldn't touch any of it with a ten-foot pole. I liked playing with cars and guns and stuff like that with the neighbor boys, and I could hit a ball and catch it as well as any guy. I always wore pants to school and I always kept my hair short. When I was twelve I tried to get into Scouts but they wouldn't take me. I wore a suit to the Prom and almost got thrown out." Then Richard looked at the three of us 'ladies' seated across from him, or her, and said with all seriousness, "I have NO idea what y'all find so interesting about being a female. Not my cup of tea at ALL. Never will be. Men run the world and I'd sooner be one of the ones in charge, thank you very much." As 'Richard' was speaking, an amusing, ironic thought came to my mind: this tough-talking, masculine-attired person was the only REAL female in the room! And he, I mean she, was so utterly antagonistic to the very notion that was so vitally important to the other three of us: the ability to live our lives and be accepted as females. I could only wonder why she found the idea of living as a woman so unpalatable, when the rest of us found it so incredibly enticing. And as I've come to realize over the years, men are a lot less 'in charge' than Richard was giving them credit for. When it became obvious that Richard had no more to say, Dr. W spoke up. "Thank you all for your candor and your fascinating stories. Now I think it would be appropriate for anyone who has questions they'd like to ask of the others, to do that. Remember, no one's obligated to reveal anything they don't feel comfortable talking about. Who would like to start?" Betty raised his hand. "I'd like to say something to Alexandra." "You can call me Sandy," I offered. "Oh, no - I like Alexandra MUCH better," he smiled. "It's a very feminine name. Sandy's kind of butch, if you ask me." I noticed Richard flinch when Betty used that word. 'Uh-oh,' I thought, 'he touched a nerve. But he's got a good point.' "I just wanted to say I find it hard to believe you're not a real girl. You look and sound very feminine. How old are you, Alexandra?" I glanced at Dr. Westerman, then back at Betty. "Uh, I'm seventeen. And I wish I WAS a real girl ..." "So you've only been dressing for a couple of years? And you say you're seventeen, but I could have sworn you were more like twenty. And if you're a male, how come you still have such a high voice?" Dr. W jumped in and spoke for me. "Betty, Sandra's definitely who she says she is, and she IS seventeen. She's been a patient of mine for quite some time, and I can assure you she was born a male. We think her use of contraceptives at puberty somehow blocked her testosterone production and instead she developed female characteristics. Her voice is only one aspect." Betty nodded slowly in understanding. "I see ... sorry, I didn't mean to sound accusing. I'll admit I'm very envious. If only I could've taken hormones back then ..." "You mean you WANTED to be a girl?" I asked. "If I could have been, absolutely!" replied Betty. "Those times I got to be a girl on stage were the best times of my life. You have no idea how starved boys are for female companionship at that age - especially when they're in a males-only situation. I think I was the most popular kid at school when we were doing shows. I got treated like a princess - guys were literally competing for my attention. Not all of them, of course - just the ones who leaned in that direction." He glanced momentarily at Erica. "I remember one cast party where I never got to sit down - I must have danced with every boy in the room." That sounded too wonderful! Before I could stop myself I blurted out, "Did you ever get kissed?" "DID I?" Betty laughed. "Not only did I have my first kiss with a boy, I must have been kissed by a dozen boys in my freshman year alone." Then he winked at me, "And I learned to how to be a great French-kisser, too." It struck me that Betty wasn't nervous any more, and I was all set to ask him if he'd ever had sex with any of his friends, but decided that was a bit too personal. Instead I asked, "Did you ever wear girls' clothes at school, like, when you weren't performing?" "Oh yes," he replied, warming even more to the subject. "Several times. The first time I was still in my freshman year. We were doing 'State Fair' for our spring show and I had the role of Margy. If you've ever seen the movie you'll know she's very pretty and feminine, and gets to wear a lot of pretty dresses. Anyway I had this amazing brunette wig sewn into my own hair, and if you know anything about the fifties, most boys had very short hair then. I had to keep it in for three days! Everyone kept saying things like, "Margy darling, did you forget your dress today?" so one day I showed up for class wearing my favorite costume from the show, a baby blue satin dress with crinolines under the skirt, lace trim on the bodice, puffed sleeves and a lacy white apron." This was sounding even more wonderful, if a bit far-fetched. "Did you put any makeup on?" You know me - pretty clothes and makeup are my favorite topics! Betty smiled, "Yes, I did. I had nail polish, eyeliner, mascara, lipstick - the works. You should've seen their faces! It was priceless. I got a lot of offers for dates after that, let me tell you. The teachers thought it was all a big practical joke. Anyway, there were a lot more opportunities to dress in public, but they were always in connection with a show. I didn't want the other guys to conclude I was a fairy, so I came up with what I thought was a good explanation for it. I told everyone I needed to stay in character between performances, otherwise I wouldn't be able to pull off my roles, to be believable. And I wouldn't be believable for them either. The director backed me up, bless his heart, and they bought it! So I was able to wear skirts and dresses quite often." "You mean you wore your costumes to class?" "No, that would never work. They would've been damaged. No, I got my big sister to help out. She sent me boxes of her clothes, the ones she didn't wear anymore. I had a great wardrobe! You should've seen my room - dresses everywhere. The boy I was sharing with, poor guy - he had to tell me what he thought about my choices, help me zip up at the back, that sort of thing." Betty's cross-dressing experiences made for a lovely story, and I could totally picture myself in his high-heeled shoes (or would that be penny- loafers?) but it was pretty hard to imagine that you could get away with something like that in the nineties, let alone the fifties. So I found myself wondering if any of it was really true. I was about to ask Betty if he wore lingerie as well, but thought better of it. Besides, I'd gone and turned the tables and had been grilling him, when the person I really wanted to learn more about was Erica, who seemed a lot more believable. "It sounds like high school was a super time for you," I commented. Betty had a wistful look in his eyes. "It was completely, utterly wonderful." Dr. Westerman nodded and spoke up at that point. "Who else has a question?" No one else spoke up right away, so I did. "I'd like to ask Erica a question. Erica, when you got back from your trip with your boyfriend, did you keep dressing as a girl?" Erica shook her head and explained how she kind of eased into her new gender identity. "I still had a job to think about, Sandra. I was working as a graphic designer for an advertising company? Actually that's how I met Ted - he was a junior lawyer with a big firm that was one of our clients - now that was ANOTHER reason to have a different identity. But after we got back I always dated him as a girl? And he took me to company functions, and we were each other's dates for weddings, and that's how it all went for a few years, until he made partner. Then one day he asked me to be his "wife" and move in with him, and he said I didn't have to work anymore if I didn't want to. And I could have all the nice clothes I wanted and wear them every day? You can imagine how amazing THAT sounded! By then I absolutely LOVED dressing as a woman, doing my makeup and having my hair done - oh, sorry Richard!" I think 'Richard' was about to puke, but he/she somehow kept her mouth shut. "So did you end up moving in?" Erica smiled, "Well, I thought about it for at LEAST two seconds ... then said YES. When I moved out of my apartment I threw my male clothes in the dumpster, and I've only worn women's clothing since. I guess you could call me a kept woman now!" She giggled again for the first time in several minutes. "And in case you were wondering, no, I didn't get it cut off. I'm not THAT hetero - at least not YET." After that comment, no one said anything for ten or fifteen seconds, so once again I opened my mouth. "Uh, Richard ... do you have a girlfriend?" She looked uncomfortable with the question, but answered anyway. "Yeah - I guess you could call her that. More like a friend that's a girl. We do stuff together - mostly video games. We're both into sci-fi." "What does she think about your transition?" "Not much, I guess. She's not like me - I mean, she doesn't seem to mind being a girl and all. We get into heated discussions about it sometimes, but nothing major." That tack wasn't leading anywhere, I thought, so I tried the other. "What about boyfriends - I mean male friends?" "Yeah, I've got some of those too. They're more accepting than girls, I think ... I never get any shit from them. But there's nobody in my life that I'm really close to. Doesn't bother me too much, if you wanna know the truth." Actually I didn't need to know the whole truth about Richard - I just thought she was being kind of ignored and someone should pay a little attention to her. Just then Erica jumped in. "Are you still on the outs with your parents?" "Never said I was. But you could say that, I guess. Can't blame them - I'm their only kid and they were probably counting on me for grandchildren. THAT sure ain't happenin'!" She laughed as though the notion of her having kids was just too funny for words. I'm not sure why, but I also laughed a bit when she said that. Maybe I could relate on one or more levels, or maybe it was just the way she said it. Anyway everyone was now looking at me, so I quickly added, "My Mom was disappointed too." Of course, you know that's not entirely true, but it seemed like the right thing to say at the time. Then Betty spoke up again. "Richard, you said you couldn't understand why any of us would want to be a woman. Can I try to answer that?" "Go right ahead," she replied, the look on her face suggesting that nothing any of us could say would change her mind. "Well, I'd be the first to admit that the grass always looks greener from the other side of the fence. And I think we all know that some people are just wired a certain way - like Erica who has a different sexual orientation than most men. And like a lot of transsexuals who have always felt they were born in the wrong body. Maybe that's your situation. But from listening to Alexandra and Erica's stories, it sounds to me like all three of us ladies went down this road because of circumstances, not because we were genetically pre-disposed to be transgenders. Dr.Westerman, I hope I'm not offending you by treading on your territory here ..." "Not at all, Betty," he replied. "I'm interested in what you have to say. Please go on." "Thank you, Doctor. Well, like I was saying, all three of us started dressing as women because of some situation that came up, and for each of us it was simply a result of a choice we made at the time. So why did we keep doing it for years afterwards? I think for one simple reason - because it was rewarding in some way. For Erica, it was the only way she could have a normal relationship with her boyfriend, and now they're accepted by other people as a married couple, and she finds fulfillment in her role as the wife of a successful man. For Alexandra, her outward appearance was very important to her, and dressing as a girl allowed her to feel much better about herself than she ever could as a boy, and she got to perform some very nice roles on stage that wouldn't have been available to her as a male. That last part was exactly the same for me, and whenever I wore girls' clothing at school I felt like I was more popular than I could ever have been as my normal self. You get used to being treated like a princess, and you can't imagine ever going back. Even when I went out with my wife as her girlfriend there was a huge difference." "I couldn't agree more, Betty!" Erica interjected. "Women are very special creatures, and no one knows that better than a man. That's why for every female like Richard, there must be a hundred males like us, who would give anything to experience life as a woman. But there's something else, too - I'll bet all of us, even Richard, take secret pleasure in being able to, you know, be something we're not supposed to be? Don't we all love the masquerade aspect of this?" Everyone nodded their agreement, even Richard. She was totally right about that - it WAS a very enjoyable part of dressing - as long as you never got found out! But I also had something I wanted to say on the subject. "I think women's clothes are just so much more FUN than men's clothing," I stated. "The colors are nicer, the fabrics are nicer, the fit's a LOT nicer, and there's like a million styles out there. I have some summer dresses I really love to wear. I have some nice skirts too, but dresses make me feel so pretty, and so special? When I have to wear pants I don't feel like myself at all ..." "Not to worry, honey, you look very good in pants too," Erica giggled. "But I agree completely with Sandra ... once you really get into women's fashion, and you learn how to mix and match and accessorize, it changes your whole life, don't you think?" "I can imagine, but I can't really LIVE it," lamented Betty. "I'm so sorry I never got to spend a part of my life as a woman, full-time. You younger girls should really appreciate the advantages you have - they're very hard to come by. Especially you, Sandra. You have a girl's face and body, and even the right voice ... you could really do some wonderful things with your life. " Everyone was silent for a moment, then Richard spoke. "Okay, you made your points, and I'm happy for y'all, but it won't change MY mind. This is how I'M going to spend the rest of MY life." "And we respect your choice, Richard," said Betty. 'Even if we don't agree with it!' I thought. I mean, what a waste! While Richard was speaking I'd imagined what she'd be like in a dress and makeup and with long hair, and I was sure she'd look very attractive. And here were three males whom I was sure would have given anything to trade places with her. At that point, Dr. W excused himself and he retreated to his desk where he spent some time typing on his computer, while the rest of us chatted informally with each other. After our host finished with his computer and returned, he glanced at the clock on his wall, which read ten minutes after five. Then he scanned our faces and asked, "Does anyone have anything else they'd like to add?" Each of us glanced at each other and no one spoke up, so he continued, "Well, ladies and gentlemen, it's been a very interesting and informative afternoon for me. I hope you all feel the same way. I want to thank each one of you for attending and sharing your thoughts and your experiences. Just before you go, I need to ask you all a special favor. What you've heard here today should be treated with the strictest confidence. I don't think anyone would have been as open as they were if they didn't feel that their privacy would be respected, but it's my job to remind everyone. So, that's about it - again, if any of you would like to meet here again in the future, just let me know." We all thanked Dr. W and each other as we donned our coats and prepared to leave, and I rode the elevator back down with my three new acquaintances. In the foyer we waved each other goodbye, but Erica paused and said, "Sandra, I just wanted to say how much I enjoyed meeting you? I think you're a very sweet person. And Betty was right - you make a VERY believable girl. I'm jealous too." I was shaking my head at that last comment. "Oh no, Erica - I'm the one who should be jealous. You have the perfect life ..." Now SHE was shaking HER head. "It's not all wine and roses, honey." She glanced at her watch. "Uh, are you driving? Can I give you a ride somewhere?" "Oh, it's all right - I'm taking the bus." She smiled, "No you're not - I can drive you. I'd love to talk a bit more." I did too, so I readily accepted Erica's offer. Her car was in the building's underground garage, so we took the elevator down another two levels, chatting all the way to her car. Oh - I need to tell you about Erica's car. It was a bright red Mercedes, quite new-looking, and its gleaming chrome and paint were spotless. "It's so pretty - and a PERFECT match for your skirt," I gushed as we approached the luxury coupe. "And my hairband!" she laughed, and the way she said that, playfully flipping her ponytail with her hands, made me laugh too. I was really beginning to like this 'lady'! The interior was upholstered in plush tan leather, and it was spotless too. I was about to compliment Erica on her car when she said, "A birthday gift from Ted. He looks after me very well, don't you think?" "I'LL say," I replied. "Ted must be the best catch in the world!" Erica didn't respond to that until after I'd told her where I lived and we were exiting the garage. "Please don't get me wrong, Sandra - Ted IS the best catch in the world ... for me? It's just that nothing of value comes without paying a price." "What do you mean?" "Well, it's like this ... you see, Sandra, I'm the baby in this relationship? Ted's eleven years older. That's just the FIRST way it's not a relationship of equals. And I don't have my own career anymore? Or my own friends ..." "But you have a man who loves you ..." "Yes, and I'm SO thankful for that - you have NO idea. But that's ALL I have? There's no security for me - if he dies, I have nothing except a lot of nice clothes ..." 'AND a nice car,' I thought. "Wouldn't you be looked after in his will?" "I hope so - but how do I know his family wouldn't contest it? The courts don't exactly have a reputation for upholding gay relationships ..." "Then can't you get married? Wouldn't it be a lot better if you were his wife?" I'd already figured the engagement ring and wedding band were all for show. She glanced over at me with a wry smile. "I'd LOVE to be Ted's wife for real, Sandra. It's what I want more than anything - more than these clothes, this car, the house ... but not with the law the way it is right now." "What's wrong with the law?" "It won't recognize marriage between two people of the same sex." "Hmm ... that's disgusting," I said, thinking immediately of how that alone would have ruined my dreams of wedded bliss with Mark. "Do his parents know about you?" Now I was steering the questions closer to my situation. "Oh, yes - they've known about us from the start? It took a while, but we're on good terms now." Then Erica giggled a little, apparently pondering something. "Now that I think of it, they didn't really accept me till I'd switched to being Erica full-time. Isn't that the funniest thing?" "I guess so. Uh, what about YOUR parents?" "They disowned me a long time ago, and I haven't seen them in years. I have a younger sister I stay in touch with, but that's about it." "I'm so sorry, Erica." "Don't be. I've made my bed, and now I get to sleep in it - but on the plus side, it comes with a big handsome man!" And she giggled some more. "Hmm. That's so amazing, isn't it?" I mused out loud. She caught my drift right away. "It IS. Now tell me about YOUR boyfriend." I'd deliberately avoided mentioning Mark during the meeting, because I was scared I'd start crying if I had to relate that depressing story. But Erica must have sensed there was a man in my life, and there was no point hiding the facts from someone who'd been there herself. "His name's Mark ... I mean, WAS Mark. He's a really nice guy - but we're not seeing each other anymore." "What happened, honey?" "Well, a lot of things ... mostly we were keeping secrets from each other." "I'm listening ..." "I didn't know he was gay, and he didn't know I was taking hormones. Or that I was planning to get the operation?" My sentences were starting to sound like questions again. "Is that IT?" "No ... also, his family really thought I WAS a girl - like, they didn't KNOW? And I was scared shitless about them finding out ... I wish I'd done it like you, and then they'd accept me when I became a girl." "Except you didn't know Mark was gay until it was too late. I'm glad I came out when I did - it was hard but it saved a lot of grief later. So tell me, Sandra - why was it such a big surprise that he was gay? To me, if a man knew I was male under this skirt, and he was still attracted to me, I'd have to assume he was at least a BIT queer. Wouldn't you?" "I guess so. But I was pretty blind, you know? I think I was fooling myself I into thinking Mark was a normal guy, and he loved me 'cause he was attracted to me as a girl. I dunno - I must've been really stupid ..." Erica smiled, "No, maybe a little na?ve and hopeful, but never stupid. How long were the two of you going out?" "About six months." "Wow - that's not bad ... and he knew about you the whole time?" "Yeah - he did." I told Erica how I was still in boy mode when I met Mark, how we did the play together with me as his love interest, and about our ultra-romantic summer. Then I explained how my PMS and my infatuation with Rob were catalysts for our breakup. "Oh, there's ALWAYS another man involved when we break up, honey," she laughed. "I've been there myself more than once!" I was quiet for a few seconds, and she added, "Oh, I'm so sorry - I didn't mean to make light ..." "It's okay, Erica. I was just thinking how dumb I was to let him go. We had SUCH a great time together. And we really did love each other?" "And how did you do in bed?" I had to swallow before responding. "Uh, not bad ... I mean it was pretty good, I think? We only got to spend one night together, like all night long ... I really loved making him come, like, with my hand? But I wasn't sure I liked it, you know, from behind?" Erica giggled again. "Oh, I know, honey ... believe me, I KNOW. I wasn't so sure about it at first either, but don't worry, it becomes a way of life. Your man needs to fuck you, right? And for girls like us, that's where it's at, isn't it? You know, once I asked Ted if he ever wanted to do it in a vagina, but bless his heart he said no, he liked doing it from behind. Why, I asked? This is what he said: it's all about the ass." "All about the ass? What's that mean?" "Ask your ex. He'll probably tell you he's crazy about your hot little derriere, honey. I'll bet you keep it nice and smooth, right? Do you wax?" "Uh-huh." This conversation was heading in directions I could never have dreamed. But she was right - Mark was always putting his hands on my butt cheeks, and I could tell it got him super-excited. "Me too. Ted loves me when I'm freshly waxed? ANOTHER sacrifice I have to make ..." "Erica, are you on hormones?" "Uh-huh - for about five or six years - but a low dosage? You have to walk a fine line if you want to look like a woman and enjoy sex at the same time. How about you?" "Uh ... yeah, I've been on them since, like, September. I think it's a normal dose, though." "And how's sex for YOU?" "Uh ... it's okay, I guess. I sure don't come as easily as I used to. I have to, you know ... fantasize a lot?" "I do that all the time ... um, Sandra, would you consider stopping for a coffee? Or a bite of something?" I didn't have anything pressing at home so I readily agreed. Our conversation might be getting kind of X-rated, I thought, but it was so fascinating being able to learn more about Erica and her experiences, which seemed so relevant to my situation. A minute later we parked in front of a small caf? that she said was one of her favorites, and when we entered I noticed two other pairs of women already seated. They looked us over from head to foot, then went back to their conversations. We found an isolated table for two near the front window where we could talk privately. There were nearby hangers for our coats, and the chair backs had hooks for hanging our purses, keeping them off the floor. 'Nice touches,' I thought. After I got seated I took a look around. The d?cor was clean and modern, and there were fresh-cut flowers in pretty little vases on all the tables. 'A very female-friendly place,' I thought as I glanced back towards the other women. They were a safe distance from us, and they seemed to be absorbed in their own affairs. Erica ordered a small salad and an herbal tea, and I went for cranberry juice and a tuna melt. "I'd love one of those, but my figure wouldn't," Erica giggled. "Must be NICE to be so young ..." "You're still pretty young," I said. "And you have a really nice figure." "And YOU'RE my new best friend!" she grinned. "But you're SO much prettier ... and those tight jeans you're wearing don't tell any lies? I'd LOVE to have YOUR ass." "And I'D love to have your breasts," I blurted without thinking. "I'd be happy to tell you where I got them," she confided, and we both laughed. Erica's eyes sparkled every time she laughed or smiled, and I realized that this was the first time I really got to communicate face-to-face with her. She really did make an attractive woman, I thought, even though her facial features bore hints of her real gender. But her hair and makeup was so perfect and so appropriate for her face and personality that I felt no one would ever suspect. When our drinks arrived she thanked our server with a big smile, and it struck me that she also had a real heart for others. That I REALLY liked about her. But there was so much more I wanted to learn. "Erica, do you, uh, ever need to shave?" "Moi? Shave? Such a dirty word!" she giggled. "I like the word 'electrolysis' so much better? And waxing! Real women don't shave, Sandra." I thought that was so funny, seeing as most real women do just that to their bodies, all the time. "I don't shave," I said. "But I've never had to do much with my face - just a bit of waxing on my chin and upper lip. My legs and crotch always need help though." "They're starting to use lasers for your face," Erica pointed out. "When I get stray hairs now, that's how I take care of them? Laser works really well if you have dark hair like yours." "I didn't know about that. But your hair's blonde - does it still work okay?" "Oh, this isn't my natural color, honey. I'm really a brunette, but didn't you know? Trophy wives HAVE to be blonde, don't they?" She giggled as she played with her long ponytail, which was now draped in front. "I guess so," I shrugged, wondering if blonde hair was in my future. "Uh, Erica?" "Yes, honey?" "Umm ... what exactly IS a trophy wife?" I'd never heard that term before. She gave me a very nice smile. "Ah - well, you're asking the right person, 'cause I'm the poster girl! A trophy wife is kind of like an adornment - something your man needs to complete the image he wants to present to the rest of the world. Trophy wives are ALWAYS beautiful and they're a lot younger than their husbands - or they should at least LOOK younger? The best thing is, your man's more than happy to give you a blank check so you can KEEP yourself looking wonderful." "Seriously? That sounds so amazing." 'Wow,' I thought, 'what's not to like about having a generous man supporting and encouraging your obsessions and then paying the tab for them?' "It IS pretty amazing, Sandra. I'm having the time of my life. I get to buy whatever clothes I want, and visit my esthetician twice a month, and have my hair and nails done every week? And I live in a beautiful home and drive a nice car. I also get taken on fabulous trips to places I could never have visited on my own. In return all I have to do is look after myself and the house, and accompany Ted to functions, make small talk with his partners and their wives, that sort of thing? Oh, and I have to throw a big house party once in a while. But I'm good at doing parties. That's the fun part." "The whole thing sounds like the fun part," I pointed out. She shook her head side to side and her ponytail swung back and forth. "Remember what I said? Nothing's ever perfect, honey." "Yeah - you don't have any security." "Right. I'm okay as long as I can keep my looks. I know Ted would marry me in a minute if the law allowed it, and then I'd at least have SOME security. The thing is, what would I do if he died? I don't think I could go back to being just another gay guy? I've come way too far now for that." At that moment our food came and this time I thanked the server. My tuna melt looked and smelled delicious - but I thought of Erica's earlier 'figure' comments every time I took a bite. Would I end up having to order micro-salads to maintain mine, I wondered? "So do you ever worry about Ted leaving you, or like, you know ... having an affair?" She looked as though she was thinking about that one. "Sometimes ... but we really are in love with each other. He's never given me any reason to distrust him? But I know how easy it can happen, so I make sure I look after him VERY well." She smiled and winked as she made that statement. "And he gives back in spades." "Hmm," I nodded. "I went to a seminar once where they talked about that. The idea was that women need to put their man's needs first, and then they get all their needs met." I didn't mention that the concept was straight out of the Bible, and the seminar was held in a church setting. "Exactly - I couldn't have put it better myself. So if you already knew that, how come you broke up with your boyfriend? He sounds like he's perfect for you." Good question and comment. "I dunno - like I said, we're both kinda young ... and I'm kinda stupid ..." "Honey, that's the LAST thing I'd call YOU," she interrupted. "Listen, Sandra - you have to go for what you want in life. You can't just expect things to work out the way you want them to? I made some big mistakes when I was your age - mostly 'cause I didn't trust my gut. And I worried too much about what other people would think. I got SO lucky meeting Ted? But maybe my life would have worked out even better if I'd just had the courage of my convictions." I got the gist of what Erica was saying, even though I still felt envious of her situation. And it began to dawn on me that I'd not only lost Mark, but possibly the opportunity to be a 'trophy wife' myself - and on my own terms. "So are you saying I should try to patch things up with Mark?" "Why not? What have you got to lose?" Not much, I thought, except my pride - which on second thought wasn't worth much in the first place. But I hadn't told her about my imagined issues with Mark's parents, and if I did, I just knew she'd counsel me to 'have the courage of my convictions'. "I'll think about it," I replied. "Uh, Erica, can I ask you another personal question?" "Sure, honey - anything." "Do you think you'll ever get, you know ... surgery?" She smiled again. "Funny you should mention that - I've been thinking about it a lot lately? I'm in my mid-thirties, so if I don't do it soon I never will. I've talked to Ted about it and he's not so sure I need to? But he said he'd leave it up to me. The thing is, not only do I lose my penis, there goes the last of my testosterone - so it might be sayonara for orgasms. On the other hand, something Betty said today made me stop and think." "You mean how men's faces age differently and it's harder to sound like a woman?" "Yes, that's it. I need to look good and be able to pass, even when I'm old? So I might not have any choice about whether to chop it off or not. How about you?" "I'd like to - the sooner the better. I don't care so much about the sex or the orgasms ... I just wanna be able to wear nice things, like bikinis, lingerie, tight pants ..." (Actually, as you already know I DID care a lot about the sex, even if I didn't want to admit it!) "And lose the annoying gaff, right?" she giggled with a knowing wink. "Oh, I'm starting to HATE that thing!" Then I joined in the giggling. Two of the other women glanced in our direction and smiled at us. 'Good thing they can't hear what we're talking about!' I thought. Erica glanced at her watch again and announced that we needed to be leaving soon, since she had to pick up her 'husband' at the office at seven-thirty. So we finished up and Erica paid the bill, then a few minutes later we were back on the road to my place. "So THAT's why you're all dressed up," I said accusingly. "And you said it was for cleaning toilets!" "Oh, don't you always wear skirts and boots when you're doing housework?" she laughed. "Well, okay, you're right ... it's 'cause my hubby and I have a hot date tonight? We're going to a nice restaurant for dinner." "That's so cool, Erica! I hope it's a really romantic restaurant. You look so gorgeous? Ted won't know what hit him!" "That's the idea, honey!" We didn't say anything more about ourselves for a few minutes, because I was giving her directions into our neighborhood. I still felt so envious of the life Erica was experiencing, even if long-term security was lacking. Of course, at my tender age I was incapable of worrying too much about things that seemed a long way in the future. As Erica steered into my driveway and put her car into park, she turned to me and smiled. "Sandra, I can't begin to tell you how much fun it's been meeting you and getting to know you?" She reached for my hand and squeezed it. "I've never met anyone so much like myself. Betty was right - you're going to love your life, you really are. Just remember what I told you ..." "I know, I need to trust my gut and have the courage of my convictions." "Such a good listener, too! Here, Sandra," she said, digging in her purse and handing me a card. "You can call me anytime. I'd love to see you again - maybe we'll have more time to chit-chat." She started looking for something else in her purse - and out came a tube of lipstick. "I'd love that, Erica," I said as I watched her applying more bright red lipstick by the lighted mirror on her sun visor. "I promise to keep in touch." Still focused on her reflection in the mirror, she rubbed her glossy painted lips together and then removed the red ribbon 'oh' and let her hair out. She swept it back with her hands and it cascaded evenly over the back and shoulders of her fur coat. "And don't forget to call your boyfriend. Ask him to meet you for dinner, and wear something spectacular. Remember, honey, you deserve the best but you have to go for it. Okay?" "Okay," I agreed as I opened the door and got out. "And thanks SO much for everything, Erica. I was having the absolute worst time of my life but you've made me feel really good about myself again." "What a nice thing to say! You made me feel great too, Sandra. Well, you have a very nice evening and let's talk again, okay? Bye for now, honey!" With that my new friend sped off in her hot red Mercedes, and I just stood there in amazement for a few minutes, thinking about how the last few hours had changed my outlook on life. I mean, just a couple of weeks earlier I'd been thinking I was such a failure, and how much I hated my life, and what had Erica just told me? "You're going to love your life, you really are," she'd said. And I already felt way better about it. WOW - like, how amazing was that? For at least the umpteenth time, I thanked God in heaven for the wonderfully supportive people he brought into my life. And I said a silent prayer that I'd find the strength to measure up to Erica's high standards for me. Then the cold weather finally forced me inside, but I spent the rest of the evening plotting how I would undo my breakup with Mark. To be continued ....