Friday began as a pretty fine day for me. I woke up to a phone call from my dad who announced that he’s found me a job in his offices. This is fab news! It means that I can now move out of my house and start affording all those pretty dresses that I’ve always wanted. Such exciting news for an oppressed trans person!
The only issue is that I’ve worked at my dad’s place before, however back then I was working night shifts in the warehouse. When I quit my job and returned to university last September, my colleagues often joked by saying that I’d be back in less a year and will probably get a promotion for being the bosses son (I was seen as the MD’s spoilt child who was given a job simply because daddy runs the place. They were probably right). Well now a year has passed, and I have indeed been given a higher ranking position, so it means that I will probably receive countless comments from my ex-colleagues; damn.
Nevertheless, I’m so happy, and my dad is such an awesome guy for getting me this. He knows how depressed I get – sitting at home all day, doing eff all – so it’s brilliant of him to go out of his way to find me some work which pays well.
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After hearing the lovely news, I then ventured down to the splendid town of Camden with one of my mates. He was down on business and wanted to go to a BDSM bar after he'd finished, so I decided to be brave and join him on such an adventure.
I’m not into BDSM, however my friend did promise me that he’d go on a night out with me to a trans bar in the near future, so I thought it was only fair to return such a generous favour.
When we first got to the bar, the ghastly presence of shyness crept back into my life and oh boy, what a comeback it made. I looked on in envy as my friend went around, chatting so comfortably with everyone. I completely froze up; not knowing what the hell to do or say to anyone. In the end I decided to just follow him around like a timid puppy and pretend to look as though I was somehow a part of their conversations.
It’s so annoying. I hate being such an introvert. I just want to be confident and comfortable around strangers. I love making friends more than anything else in the world, however I constantly assume that everyone hates me, so I always freeze up and crawl back into my shell of silence.
For the first few hours, I was stood there, despising my very existence. I just wanted to be like my mate. I wanted to make new friends, however it just wasn’t happening for me.
But then, after a few more pints (about 8 if I'm being perfectly honest), Dutch courage came along to save the day. Suddenly, I was chatting, dancing, and actually able to hold conversations with people for more than five minutes at a time!
Whenever someone asked if I was into Kink, I told them no, but that I was transgender. For the first time in my life, I was telling strangers about my gender identity! Most of them looked shocked when I first told them, which I strangely enjoyed. It was quite funny. Some of the shocked people were being whipped and tied up as I told them. How ironic, that they were freaked out by my alternative lifestyle, despite their own unconventional tastes.
They were all so lovely about it all however, and told me that they think I’d make an incredibly convincing girl. I have terrible self-esteem issues, so when people say things like this I find myself feeling attractive for a very brief moment. A lot of them were asking me questions about being trans, and it was great to talk so openly about it. I love how comfortable I’m getting with the whole thing! To think, that just under a year ago I would not talk to a soul about this, now I seem to be telling everyone (well, except for mum and dad, but I’m going to very soon).
But it wasn’t all dandelions and daffodils. It turned out that one really hot girl was chasing me around the bar all night (that's not the bad bit of course). Naturally, I was completely oblivious her attraction toward me, as I automatically assume that every female finds me repulsive. Finally she grabbed me and told me that I had incredible hair. We then got nattering and it soon became clearly apparent that she was after me. But then, I told her I was transgender and she seemed to lose interest.
“Why the hell did you tell her that you moron?” you may be screaming. Well, because if I am to get with any girl, I want them to know the truth from the get go. Like I’ve said in a previous post, I’m not going to act as though being trans is a bad thing. I will not keep this from anyone. It is who I am and if people have a problem with it then they can sod off. The girl still spoke to me after I told her – so she wasn’t being a bigoted idiot or anything – yet you could clearly see that the interest was no longer there. Shame really, because she was very attrative and had a lovely personality.
As the night wore on, my confidence took a nosedive once again. Suddenly, drunken people started bringing up the subject of my chronic shyness. “You need to be more confident” said the girl who previously liked me. One guy – who bought me a drink – said that I seemed like a frienly person, but that I was very shy and should try to relax around people more. Another woman said that I was in a world of my own and that I was as silent as a rock.
They meant no harm with their words - as they all seemed to like me - yet such comments do hurt my feelings. What do people even mean by “you need to be more confident”? It’s not like I’m being shy on purpose. I’d love to be an extrovert, but my sheer self-hatred and paranoia makes it pretty much impossible. For all my life I have wanted to be as sociable as hell. I love people and I adore making new friends, but such a process is not easy for me. I’m not being shy on purpose, and reminding me of how timid I am does not make things any easier for me.
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Many pints later, my friend decided to call it a night and we both drove back up to Telford (he was driving and yes, he was sober). As we travelled up the motorway, a feeling of sadness came over me.
I suffer from ‘grass is greener on the other side’ syndrome. I’m convinced that if I lived in a place like Camden, then I would be perfectly happy. I tell myself that if I could just find a job in such a place then I’d never be alone or afraid again. I think that I’d meet tones of people like me there, and I would no longer feel isolated in regards to my gender identity.
Naturally, this is most probably a delusion. Five years ago, when I went to an Aberystwyth University open day, I was convinced that this little Welsh town was the key to my happiness. I was certain that if I could just get the grades to attend this university, then life would be hunky-dory for me. I believed that I would find a beautiful girlfriend, I’d make millions of friends (not literally, that would be a dumb goal) and I would no longer be shy.
But when I got to Aberystwyth, none of that happened. In fact, I was more miserable during my four years there than I was in Telford (and I hate Telford!). By May 2012, I despised the place so much, that I vowed never to return again.
Despite my love of Camden, I’m sure I’d find many things to whinge about if my dream of living there did come true. I’d probably moan about the stresses of living in such a busy enviroment and the costs of everything (I mean it’s London for crying out loud. Far too expensive for us poor Midland folk).
However I do adore the town and I shall hopefully be venturing down there many more times. It’s better than bloody Telford, that’s for certain, but then licking a lampost is more enjoyable than spending a day here.
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