Weekend in L.I. (Conclusion)
Writing about the rest of the weekend, a week ago now, is a bit more delicate. Time was, when anything that happened in my presence was fair game and I wrote about other people’s lives as much as my own. We know where that lead and I’ve learned that’s wrong. On the other hand, I still think through issues best at the keyboard and still value feedback from others.
So this part is going to come out with a curious mixture of vague and specific and probably generate more questions than answers.
See, I very much love CBC. No matter what, I don’t see this changing. If CBC was a gay man, it would be so much easier. But she’s not. Surprisingly, this disappoints me only a little. Sex is only one aspect of a relationship. I’m incredibly grateful for all the other aspects of ours.
CBC is still at the stage where it’s difficult for her to talk about these sorts of things. Her feelings toward me are shown, less in words, and more in our interactions. I’ve dialed back the dialog on my side a bit our of respect for her difficulties in expressing herself in this regard.
Perhaps it’s maturity, perhaps it’s what I’ve learned in rehab and the program, or perhaps it’s just plain awareness, but I’ve never felt feelings returned before as they are by CBC. The anticipation on her face was evident at a distance when I got off the plane. Seeing that morph into… happiness, delight, warmth, love?… and it was all I could do to keep our greeting within acceptable public tolerances.
CBC is not a very open person. This is to be expected in someone who has, for decades, had to hide who they really are and how they truly feel. Nor is she very physical. This is also to be expected in someone who truly despises their own body. So for her to show emotion—nay, beam like the sun—and to initiate hugs and stuff is both satisfying to see from a personal growth standpoint, and when those things are directed towards me, well, it feels really, really good.
That stupid little old me, faults and all, can evoke such feelings in someone else—especially someone for whom I have such strong feelings—well, I’ve never had to describe it so I don’t know what words to use. Everything in my vocabulary comes up short.
And while not actually said, it’s clear that CBC wants more out of our relationship. All weekend she said things like, “How do you like this neighborhood?” “What do you think of this area?” “Do you think you could get around here without a car?” “My mom really likes you.” And the most telling, “I bet if you applied for a job here [at the Hicksville Public Library] you’d get it.”
There are two things that are unsettling about this. First is that were CBC a gay man and not a transsexual, I’d have been living there for months now. I’m still working on the issue of how important is sex in a what’s the most truly satisfying relationship I’ve ever been in?
Second, is the roomie. In case you missed it, they live in a two-bedroom, one of which is filled with computers and desks and goldfish. You do the math. That said, tolerance is about the best I felt from CBC about her roomie.
The roomie, however, well she (note the pronoun) absolutely worships CBC. While CBC has said the roomie is jealous of our relationship, none of that was expressed towards me. There wasn’t even a hint of “I get to sleep in the bedroom and you get an air mattress in the living room with the cats.”
Could be she hid it well. And truth be told, I long ago accepted that CBC likes women, and no matter what her gender, I just don’t do it for her. I was just really happy to be there. Even if I was sleeping with the cats.
CBC was nervously over-attentive for the first part of Saturday. We settled that when I told her that I wasn’t there to be entertained like a tourist. In fact, I’d come with no greater goal than just hanging out, and would be just a happy if all we did was sit around and watch TV or play Yahtzee or something all weekend.
I explained that the only other goal I had was to to see the Hicksville Public Library, and that was just out of curiosity because they’re funded by a separate tax assessment rather than out of the general municipal budget. It makes, by the way, all the difference in the world. And the patrons I talked to agree that keeping the politicians out of the budget is best, even if it is more expensive.
Anyway, after confirming that all I really wanted to do was pal around, CBC relaxed even more and seemed to become quite settled. This increased the comfort and satisfaction I felt, and did not seem to decrease the pleasure she felt when, not so much introducing me, as showing me off to her family and friends.
And I was shown off. It felt good. And if it weren’t for the big grin plastered all over CBC’s face, I might have thought it was voices in my head that, after hearing, “This is my friend Bruce from Rochester. He’s down for the weekend.” heard an unsaid, And isn’t he cool? and Isn’t it great that he came all this way to see me? And at least to the family, He likes me just the way I am.
Which is not untrue. While it would be awfully convenient if CBC was a gay man, I do like her just the way she is, and found myself defending her to the roomie on Sunday morning over coffee. It was a tough balancing act.
First, it was really weird talking about someone in the third-person when they’re sitting right next to you. With CBC not participating in the conversation, and with the roomie leading things in that way, it was hard to not also slip into third-person discussion.
Second, pronouns. Eh! I’ve gotten pretty good IRL at using she and her, although I slip occasionally. This got turned upside-down with everyone else using he and him.
Weirder still, was seeing CBC’s birth (boy) name on the mail on the table, and her family calling her by her boy name. Granted, they have 36 years of habituation to work through. While CBC was in the basement getting the air mattress, CBC’s mom admitted she’s having a difficult time “with the whole [boy name] thing.”
Still, it was unsettling for me to the extent that I’ve never used it, CBC has never used it and I learned it only through Googling. It was like, who is this [boy name] person you’re talking about?
Suddenly, all last week I found myself thinking of her using her boy name and in conversation have reverted to he and him. Must… resist… CBC is beginning the process for her legal name change this week, which is a step in the right direction for all.
Back at the kitchen table on Sunday morning, the roomie said she’s getting better with it, but I’m not so sure. The whole point of transition is to become who you are, not to exchange one set of conformities for another.
The roomie, a veterinarian with surgical training, went on about how in addition to sexual reassignment surgery, CBC “needs” work done on her face, even using her finger to draw on CBC where she’d nip and tuck and rework the jawbone.
“He also needs voice work,” she said. “And femininity training,” she added. “He won’t take my advice either.”
I couldn’t take it. I launched into a dissertation about the differences between doing things for self-acceptance rather than societal acceptance, drawing as best I could on my experience of growing up gay in the 70s. Hell, you still don’t have to look very hard to find non-acceptance of gay people, often vehemently so.
The point being, that I don’t need society’s acceptance to be happy and self-accepting. Nor do I need to conform to someone else’s concepts of how a gay man should look, sound and act. That being true to myself—including in how I look, sound and act—is far more important to my well-being than anything else.
To transsexuals I know, “passing” is important, but they stop making changes at the point where it feels untrue to themselves. Those I’ve known who try to go past that, into conformity when it feels untrue to themselves, have all ended up very unhappy.
With CBC’s stated goal of becoming a lesbian, preferably a lipstick lesbian, but still, a lesbian, everything having to do with appearance, sound, affect and demeanor goes right out the window anyway. (Butch, lipstick lesbians are not as uncommon as you might think. Nor is it necessarily a contraditcion in terms.)
“The advice,” I told her, “may not be welcome. You should ask about that. Myself, even when advice is welcome or solicited, I don’t always act on it and when I do, it’s in my own time, whether that’s in five minutes or five years, it’s still my choice.”
“CBC is a smart cookie,” I concluded. “If you think he hasn’t thought all of this through in the past 36 years, you’re underestimating him and invalidating the choices he’s made for himself.” Note the annoying shift in pronouns.
Fortunately, at this point, the roomie was late for rounds and had to leave for work. I was feeling this was an ongoing issue between them and it really isn’t my role to intervene in domestic disputes, and given my feelings for CBC, don’t have the objectivity required either. I was also uncomfortable with the tears that had gathered around CBC’s eyes.
Where I should have gone then was “I see you’re feeling something quite strongly. What is it?” But that didn’t occur to me for a while after. Instead I gave a hug and a pat on the back and got ready for the shower.
I have followed-up since then and CBC said she was feeling sad because she’d really like to be undetectable, but conversations like that make her feel like she’ll never measure up. So I was off on that and the roomie was much closer the issues troubling CBC. That still doesn’t make it right.
The roomie gave it some thought during the day and in the car on the way to church said something that led me into program stuff. “What might be hanging you up is language,” I suggested. “In general use out there, acceptance has become mixed up with approval and agreement. They’re three different things. It occasionally becomes mixed up with relating or understanding. Those are two different things as well.
“I can’t relate to trans issues, because I’ve never been there. I can understand the feelings that are evoked because I’ve experienced many of them myself and for similar reasons. In my own life, there are may things, people and things about people I don’t approve of or agree with. But I can accept them.
“Acceptance means that even if I don’t agree or approve, I don’t have to argue the point and don’t have to change someone’s mind or even share my opinion. It just means I’m cool with them. And that relieves me of frustration, making my own life easier.
“What it does for the other person, primarily, is relieve anxiety, and secondarily is reduce feelings of being judged. Relieving frustration and anxiety in a relationship of any sort just makes things better, even when people hold differing viewpoints. Few people like the feeling of being judged, so removing judgment from the equation makes things feel more balanced.”
Who knows if she got it.
Thank heavens Monday was a workday for the roomie because I was really beginning to feel like some sort of relationship counselor. I’m far from qualified for that. And that’s not why I’d gone to visit in the first place.
This made Monday the nicest day of my visit. We just hung out around the apartment all morning, watching the fish, annoying the cats and making small talk. That was what I’d wanted from our visit.
