Mary got a date. Interesting, how I had dreaded these words for so long, only to yearn
for them in the last few months. And finally, they have come to pass.
In clarification, her date is on Valentines Day (most appropriate) at a special
"partners" bowling tournament. The man in question is Ron, a teammate from her
Friday Bowling league. I met Mary on a plane on the way to a Star Trek convention in San
Diego in 1975. Previous to that day I had asked out 17 girls in a row with being turned
down for a date. I was working the night shift at a photo finishing lab at the time, and
was the only one in the Quality Control Department during those hours. My room was a
windowless cubicle perhaps 15 feet square, lit by harsh fluorescents and located in the
farthest corner of the large factory.
When the boredom and loneliness grew too great, I would leave my post and wander the
factory, hoping to find someone to talk to. I barely had the opportunity to become
aquatinted with anyone under these conditions, and asking a girl out was a "cold
call" proposition. I had no particular sexual desire to be with any of these women,
and in fact took exception to a fellow worker who I had told of my intention to ask a
particular girl out, who commented that he hoped I would "get into her pants".
To this day, that comment disgusts me.
Eventually, I did go out with two of the girls at work, one right after the other - my
luck obviously changing. One, a very cute woman some five years my elder with a three year
old child (remember, I was 22 at the time) went with me and another couple up to the
mountains for a day in the snow. I remember her telling me as we strolled the wooden
sidewalks that she felt like we were in the old west and I was the sheriff and she was my
girl. The thought revolted me. Even then, I wished that it was I who was the girl on the
arm of the sheriff. I never asked her out again.
Another girl went to Disneyland with me. We spent an uncomfortable day (as were all
days I tried to date women) as she kept expecting me to do something masculine and put my
arm around her or kiss her or something and I kept hesitating. Finally, I did kiss her,
just as we came out of "Small World", and it seemed so mechanical and
emotionless that it was no more than a chore. That night, when I returned her to her home
(she lived with her parents) we spent a few minutes necking in her car. I tried to explore
everything with my hands, just to be able to tell myself I had. There was no desire there,
just the knowledge that this is what I was "expected" to do. She gave me my
first French kiss, which I found quite repulsive. Not getting the kind of response she
wanted, she called an end to the festivities and went inside.
I asked out one more girl, then canceled the date when I could not stand the thought
that she might expect me to try to make love to her. I asked her out another time and did
the same. Finally, I asked her out a third time, and stood her up again, all because I was
afraid she would want me to make love to her. I'm truly sorry for the deep hurt I must've
caused her.
But, that is the point at which I met Mary on the plane. And Mary was different. She
had no expectations from me. She did not seem disappointed in my level of masculinity.
Whatever I did or said was "okay". For the first time, I was with a woman who
would have me as I was, as the best masculine image I could create, without complaint.
That is why I fell in love with her. It was a love born out of fear of rejection and her
absolute acceptance of me.
And look at all she has accepted to this day...
But, through all our married years, I had feared her loss. The only terror I truly
dreaded was the thought that she might leave me... leave me alone with no one to share
life with, no hope of finding another who would accept me as she had.
This led to an incredible jealousy, a jealousy born of fear. I did not want her talking
to other men, having coffee with them, talking to them on the phone, all from my own lack
of self-worth and the "certain" knowledge that any man she met would be more of
a man than I. (How right I was!)
These feelings are what caused me to strive so strongly to keep our family together
through my transition. The effort multiplied my psychological and emotional strain many
fold. But I knew that if I lost her through this, I would be devastated perhaps beyond
redemption.
My efforts were fruitful, and the extra care and love I gave to her made it easier for
her to justify remaining with me - that, coupled with her own feelings of inadequacy.
But along the way to womanhood, something unexpected happened: I grew up. As a man, I
could never be more than a child, but as a woman I began to mature. Puberty for me came at
age 38, and transition (perhaps more than the process of becoming a woman) was the process
of becoming an adult.
Through these years, I gradually shed myself of my feelings of inferiority. As I became
more and more accepted as a woman, then as an attractive woman, for the first time I began
to believe I had some intrinsic worth as a human being. I began to feel that others might
find me an asset for WHO I was, not just WHAT I could do.
And even more unexpectedly, MY growing self-esteem spurred a similar growth in MARY'S
self-esteem, especially of late. In the middle of last year, and in response to my
well-dressed look, Mary began to lose weight, style her hair, upgrade her wardrobe and
even to wear lipstick for the first time in fifteen years. At first the old patterns of
jealousy returned to haunt me: an old fire dog starting at the clang of the bell. Most
amazing, they were not as strong. It was during this time I began to date, Bernard, then
Angel. And over the course of each relationship I felt my jealousy of Mary further erode.
Also during this time, her self-confidence continued to increase.
Late last year, I began to see Andy again, and as I spent time with him, Mary began to
speak of maybe dating some day. I was amazed to find that I no longer felt jealous at all.
In fact, I hoped very honestly that she would find someone who would make her feel as
happy and fulfilled as Andy made me.
There was still a downside, though. I still worried about Mary and I divorcing, as I
was not yet ready to be truly on my own with no guaranteed Life Partner to share old age
with. Now, that too has gone. I love Mary, I always will, but as a sister, not a lover.
And, in truth, I suppose that is the way it always was. Perhaps we still will grow old
together, but it is just as likely (or maybe even more so, now) that we will find a man
for each of us, and move on to more fulfilling relationships: the kind we both always
really wanted. There is no fear here, no regrets: just a warm feeling of having supported
each other so that we both could grow. And in this sisterly love, we have allowed
ourselves to have the ability to part paths without excessive sadness, but more with joy
and hope for ourselves and for each other.
There is one side effect that is actually my reason for writing this entry. All through
my transition, I came to feel more and more a woman, more and more feminine - except at
home. I did make progress there, but there seemed to be some limit as to how much I could
feel like the new me in the old situation.
I would go to work and feel fine, I would spend time with Andy and feel great, but I
would come home and feel male. Even if I was doing feminine things, even if it was a
wonderful day, I couldn't shake the masculine feelings at home.
For the longest time, I thought it was because the situation had not substantially
changed: I still acted as head of household and protector, filling all the job
qualifications of a husband. And I also thought it was because Mary had a continuous
knowledge of me from man to woman and integrated both as her whole understanding of who I
was. But I was wrong.
When I heard last night that Mary had finally gotten a date, rather that focusing on
jealousy or loss or fear of being alone, I just felt female. The negative concerns did not
materialize at all, yet I was struck with an overwhelming feeling as if I had just become
female in the blink of an eye. I tried some experiments: doing things I normally did that
made me feel masculine or male around the house. And lo and behold, I felt feminine and
female through it all. How could something which one would expect to be so devastating
instead be so elevating?
I thought about it last night in bed. While Mary slept, I looked at her, then explored
once more the results of surgery. And slowly the answers to my questions congealed.
Because of my love for Mary, I had felt a responsibility to provide for her the male
aura she desired: the masculine myth she had married. And in a snap, someone new had
stepped in to supply that. Being this way for her was an obligation borne of love. But
being relieved of the duty was peace.
I saw clearly that my commitment to Mary as my former lover, my sister, my best friend,
had not lessened. I will always be here for her whenever she needs me, if we stay together
or not. My commitment to be with her in her old age will always be here, as that has been
her personal greatest fear: to grow old alone. But the responsibility for masculine care
has been passed from me to Ron.
No longer do I need to provide that, and in this, I was instantly disenfranchised from
those requirements. And the other insight that came to me was that I had felt male because
Mary had only me in her life to look to for masculinity. As soon as there was another
source, I could feel here shift that gaze from me to him. Sure there is a small sense of
loss at not being the one she will look to for protection and strength, just as I had
tearfully noted in my diary some three year ago to a much greater degree. But now, that is
but a small thing, and completely overshadowed by the joy that someone can provide it for
her who really wants to, and that I am not depriving her by failing to provide it.
In other words, two things happened simultaneously: I was relieved of the
responsibility of providing masculinity, and Mary no longer expected it from me.
I went to sleep content in my understanding. And this morning, as I awoke, I felt truly
feminine, and still do. Even if and when Ron is no longer a part of her life, there will
be others. And even in between, she will not look to me to be her knight any longer.
Rather, she will look toward the next man in her life, and then the next, until she
finally finds the one she perhaps thought I had been so many years ago.
And for me, there is no masculinity left, not even the false facade I had mustered even
yesterday. But open to me is my new femininity in all its fullness. And open also is the
hope that I too may someday find the man of my dreams and settle down as his wife with a
new and truthful and real future of my own.
February 3, 1997
A letter to Lauren:
I told Chris today that right now, I was having the time of my lives, and
then I laughed when I realized I had said "lives" not "life". I'm
getting seriously into homesteading this new turf. that, in fact, is the subject of my
editorial in this month's "Subversive".
The whole concept of saying, "I've gone far enough. This is home," is really
striking a chord with me these days. The journey is truly over, and building a life has
begun. In fact, I think I'll build an empire. Why not?
As for school, it's so much fun!!! I used to hate school, but now I can't
wait to get to each class. I just got home from Trig a few moments ago. When we went out
for our break, one of the guys in class got in line behind me at the coffee stand and
started a conversation. I don't expect it to lead anywhere, and he is really not my type,
though nice enough. Still and all, it's really fun to get approached.
Actually, I'm pretty busy right now. As you know, I work a four day week,
and each of my Wednesdays off from the office is usually filled with editing and writing
for The Subversive. Most nights are for homework (plus cooking dinner and such.)
Every Saturday afternoon, I go over to Andy's and usually spend the night.
I've never had a relationship like this before and I really love it. Andy is very
attentive and always has an arm around me or is giving me a kiss on the neck or something.
We usually spend half the time I'm there just snuggling on the bed in the nude while
watching comedy videos and drinking Chinese tea. Last Saturday, I almost cried when it was
time to leave. (But of course, I didn't let Andy know that!)
I've finally encouraged Mary to start dating (which quite unexpectedly
took a lot of pressure off me.) She was going to go with a fellow (Ron) to a couples
bowling event on Valentine's Day, but he had his son that day (he's divorced) and can't
disappoint him.
Mary writes him by Email and asks me to word some of her letters to strike
the right mood with him. I can honestly say I never imagined I would be helping my
"wife" write love letters to interest a guy. But, that's what makes life so
special, isn't it: Surprises!
February 4, 1993
Inter-office mail
From: Melanie
Date: Thu, Feb 4, 1993 10:10
Subject: RE: How's school going?
To: Barb'ra
Well, I FINALLY get a moment to write you back! Chris and Steve are so into writing the
actual story software program engine, that I am providing them with theory information from the
moment I arrive until they reluctantly let me go home. Steve has been putting in some 16
hour days and coming in for the same amount of time on Saturday and Sunday as well. He is
really intent on his work! But, the results are nothing short of spectacular, as the
engine appears to be doing everything we theorized it would. THAT'S a relief after almost
three years of effort without ever knowing if we were truly onto something revolutionary,
or just stuffed full of wild blueberry muffins!
As for school, I'm having a wonderful time. Miriam (my friend in my psychology class)
asked me to be her study partner, so we're getting together at the library this Saturday
to go over our class notes (and talk about our respective boyfriends and our jobs). I met
a nice guy in Trig class the other night - Eric. He's about my age (but also looks younger
- pat on own back ) and is also re-taking trig to help with his job prospects. He's not
really my type, but still its nice to be approached. At least I have a friend in that
class, which is hard 'cause the teacher has such a stick up his ass!
Anyway, it really doesn't matter, as I came there to learn, not to be entertained.
One of the most interesting things so far, is that what I am learning in Trig and Psych
I bring back here to the office, and then am pleased to discover that we described those
very functions in our model without really knowing what they represented. In other words,
we built something that works FIRST, and now we are beginning to understand how we did it.
Weird!
I'm already in a springtime spirit. Still enjoying Victoria magazine (thanks again for
the subscription!) and dreaming of balmy days like this one. Wish I was out in a green
country meadow today with the wind blowing through my hair and a picnic lunch on a plaid
blanket. *sigh* Ah, well, back to work and goals and story development
software and shit. (oops!)
