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About this blog

Boy meets Girl

Boy falls in love with Girl

Girl tells him she is trans

Boy still wants to hold her hand and kiss her

These are the journeys

Entries in this blog

Love and Violence

Now like all modern work place, we have zero tolerance for violence but that does not seem to stop bi-polar boy from acting like a jerk. I call him that because he seems to be in need of medication for the shadows of his mind play tricks on him with his interaction to the world. It’s all conspiracies. The Earth is flat! We never went tote moon. Obama is an Alien lizard. You have seen the same sort of wacky ideas on the fringe web sites you read for giggles. He believes them, one and all. She calls him Joe-Blow, a reference to a BS artist who is always on the girls, trying to get their attention. I used to get jealous cause he was always hitting on her but now I know how she feels, so I feel better! At least she knows the score about him. He is like married. He live with the same women and her kids, he pays the bills and basically does what a man is supposed to do for his women, even if they are not married. However, he flirts with all the girls and he basically hits on them as if he was looking for a date. None of my business what he does except he tends to bother her. Mostly he pisses her off. She gets feisty and in his face to tell him off back. Remember she is tiny, and I mean small. 5 foot nothing, 100 lbs tiny. He is a bigger guy near 5'10" and weights a good 220 maybe 250. For some reason he keeps bothering her, even though he really does not like her. I hear him speak, or rather over heard him as he swears under his breath at her as he walks away. "What a Bitch." I heard him say once. So one day she was doing something and he was seated. He said something and she basically told him off. So in what I have come to call "Faux Violence," basically a fake threat because I am sure he would not have resorted to violence, his eyes tightened. His fist clenched. His face went red and he started to get up. Until he glance over my way. Just as he towers over her in weight and height, I am taller and weight more than he does. You could almost see how he mind was thinking, I was right there, so there would be no chance of any real violence and she would be even more in his face, thus doubling his humiliation and there was nothing he could do about it since there would be no way any funny stuff was going to happen with me around to... to ... raise objections to his faux violence or otherwise anyone who threatens her. Not sure she noticed any of this but I did. Made me smile. I may not be in her life, but I am still making it better just by standing around.
But that is the violence, where is the love?
One of the older Italians that we work with is always against her. She is senior to him, which is where I figured was the spark point but I was wrong. Boy was I ever wrong! So, he complains that she does not do her job; she is always wandering off etc. And he complains to anyone who will listen to him including the bosses. He is always complaining about her. Well one day, he had to go to the bathroom on work time. It happens to us all, we cover for each other. When he came back 20 minutes later, he put on his jacket because he was going out for a smoke. He was speaking to another Italian about how she is never working, never doing anything, always wondering around. Errr? The irony of his complaining about her not working was lost on him for some reason. Another time, he was on one side of the conveyor and we were on the other. There was a box on his side that needed to go to my side so I said give it to me. She was further down lost in space, staring into the hemisphere. So instead of giving it to me, he tosses right in front of her. It was a light box so it would not have hurt her even if he had aimed it at her. Which he certainly did not! It just landed right in front of her and gave her a fright. This is what he wanted to do, scare her. It happens sometimes when she is inside her own head that she is in the crowd but lost. To the point where they yell her name and she is like literally jumping up. Startled by her name being called, she gets embarrassed by her own inattentiveness rather than mad at being disturbed. He accuses any man who helps her of being in love. I move her heavy boxes so I must be in love with her. I must be her boyfriend. I know where she is all the time! I don't. I only know where she is most of the time... So Friday another Italian was helping her do her work, basically lifting the heavy boxes as I would normally do, except I was assigned elsewhere so I could not do both. And this guy starts in on the Italian. Only he does his comments in, of course, Italian. Since English and French would be a dead giveaway and half the group speak Italian so most would understand him. Having work with them for years I get some of what they say. In this case, he started in on the second guy, must be in love with her etc. The very same things he was accusing me of being only, literally, the day before. In my case, it would be true but this guy? Say what? What was in his head that would make him accuse us all of being in love with her until it clicked. Who gives a girl all his attention? All his focus? But someone in love with her. And click. He had a crush on her. He was like 25 years older then she is and married with kids and grandkids and all that but he had a crush on her. That was why he was always talking about her, always saying things about her. He wanted her away from him because he was in love with her.

One last story of someone else being in love with her; another guy, much younger, was always hanging around her, always trying to talk to her, but he was getting nowhere. Might be because he smoked, and she was dead set against smokers. Could be he was simply a jerk? I don't know but she shut him out. As we were working one day he was badgering her about how old she was. She was playing but she was not answering, I was working nearby and interjected that she was nineteen and holding. Nuff said. She smiled a very happy smile because he was not going to find out her age! She also got a compliment that she looked younger than she was! He, on the other hand, had a grimace, sort of pained silence that he was not going to find out how old she was today. I already knew, she told me a while ago. She is not 19. Another time, while we were working on a truck, he walked up to talk to her, certainly not to talk to me. And he was making snide comments about my being there. I looked at him and said "We're a team." As if that explained everything about why I was always around helping her and it did because we are a team. It did the trick well enough in his mind because he left soon after. But this guy is another follower of hers; a not so secret admirer, who she tolerates. Cause he can be annoying to me. One day as he was driving out he stops and yells at me. "Tell her I love her!" I waved and kept on working. Thinking; "Boy what a jerk," until I realised that he really does love her. In a superficial, childish manner that involved a man sized crush from a little boy sized personality.

In the end, I help her, moving her heavy boxes or just standing there to give the bully a second thought. I help her, she helps me, we are a team. We may not be going out but that does not mean we cannot be partners: even if that would be too strong a connection and too formal as well.

Still I journey on.
Thanks for reading!

Fast forward to the present times; I met this girl about 15 months ago. She came in to the unit where I worked, angry, very angry.  Her back was up; she was ready for a fight. I wanted to keep my distance, but I was her trainer. Lucky me, I get o train all the new people. So, over time, I became her friend. I think she was just nervous in her new position. She had some bad times before hand in her past positions so she was ready for a fight in this new posting, except no one here was willing to fight with her, not even just a bit. We showed her what to do then left her to do it or not as she chose. She could do the work or not do it or whatever, no one was on her back and the supervisors hardly were seen. They had to deal with me and that kept their hands full. Yes I am a pain in the lower extremes. So they avoided me, (She worked right next to me,) so I would go to their office and alert them to my problems. They would love my visits, as they usually meant more work. I was welcomed like the plague of locus. So she was left on her own to do as she pleased. So she learned her new position in a place where no one was on her back. Her old position they were always on her back. Remember she was small so she had trouble with the heavy parts of the job. Here we either would help her or let her lift what she could and I would do the rest. Once she was accustomed to the world of her new assignment, where people where helpful, Zen like and over all just chill, she calmed down. She is small, Feisty but small, 5 feet tall, very thin, maybe 100-110 lbs. Long hair and very pretty. I would say I am biased on the last part of her being pretty but she seems to get a lot of attention from all the other males who work in other departments so I am thinking she is pretty attractive to the male population. I guess I was "liking her" even before *I* knew I "liked" her. One of the bosses made fun of me for liking "Boi p*ssy" (I think that is what he called it.) because I write poetry or so I thought. Was there something in her file? At this point that was all I could think of. Could have been a stupid comment or was it more than that. I may never know really, not like I can go and ask. Well, I liked her enough to be her friend. Or to try to be her friend she was difficult to be around. She was and is hard to get to know. She was abrasive in some instances and generally not someone that you could get close to or even try to. Or was it just me that she was abrasive to and trying to push away? She seems fine with everyone else but sometimes I wonder. Was she pushing me away even then because she liked me too? Or was it all my imagination? I won't doubt that it is all in my so called mind. What sort of broke the ice was when she asked about my audio books. I was listening to books while I worked and she asked me about them I told her everything and she asked for copies. I was like sure. And I got them for her. I would like to think now, and certainly did then, that I was trying to be nice to her and make a friend. Could it have been an early stage of attraction? Some girls are attracted to bigger guys or so I hear. Don’t you love going back over old memories to see what you were thinking so long ago and see how the past is altered by your thinking today?

 

 

Or is that just me?

 

 

Thus began this strange journey into the deep unknown!

 

 

My past

I am not whole unaware of transsexuals. When I was working back in the 90tys, I knew a guy; my only active memory was talking with "Him" while standing taking a piss. He left only to come back a few months later as a woman. Ok being clueless one of the girls had to inform me that he was now a she! So I was like. "Oh wait... I know him...err her err... ok so a little confused!" So far from being shocked, I was "Live and let live" about the whole thing. She hung out with the lesbians at work. I was friendly with them all so I got to know her a bit. She was nice enough. Friendly even. I did not see any horns growing from her head, no smell of brimstone, no nothing. Sorry Mr Vice President Mike Pence. She was just a normal person. It was weird for the adjustment. That lasted like a day then it was not weird any more. I just accepted her for who she was and let it drop from my world. We played card a few times, had a few parties in a group and then I changed jobs. Never looking back.
About twenty years later maybe more, around 2010, I met this girl on-line, so about seven years ago. Call her "May." (Not her real name.) She and I hit it off instantly! We talked everyday about everything and nothing, for many hours. Just enjoying each other’s company. Of course, I fell in love with her. Boy meets girl. It was destined to be. Except someone played a country song, so I lost the girl and my pickup truck sort of thing! She was wonderful. But... there has to be a "But" at this point, otherwise I would have married her. Yes that big M word. She did not have Skype and we could only talk by text. No video or audio. Video chatting was not as prevalent back then as it is now. So I made no notice of it and she lived in Yugoslavia or in the area formerly known as. Note that I have hidden her location while at the same time giving a perfectly valid location you can find on a map. Okay fine, I was enjoying being clever there! Then suddenly, she disappeared. She was not on-line, she stopped answering her emails, and she just dropped off the planet as far as I was concerned. This was strange. It took me years to figure it out but the clues are compelling. At least to my mind... (My so called mind...) She once sent me a picture, we did that all the time, exchanging pictures and videos from YouTube we had found. So this was not something unexpected. But this was a picture of a boy. I asked her who that was and she just said a friend. I was like; "OK?" But she let the subject drop. In my mind, of today, it seems that she dropped off the face of the Earth right after that. I could be wrong but I don't think so. I missed her, sent her emails etc. but what could I do. She lived in Europe and I was in Canada so not like I could drive on over to her house. Not that I ever knew where her house was. I had no phone number, nothing except a chat and email link. This in the end was not really a lot. I still talked to her girlfriend. So I got some news, really very little. "Oh she is busy! Oh she is working! Oh she got a job in Texas." That sort of bland information that left much to be desired; like shall we say information? A few years later she returned home to see her ailing father. He would die shortly after this visit. She was so fond of him, she would tell me about how wonderful he was. But the visit was anything but great. There was a falling out and she never spoke with him again! Rather he never wanted to speak with her again. He died before they could heal the rift. She was broken up over it according to her friend but she never reached out to me I tried but got no answer. You know that has got to hurt, to be rejected by your father. I began to ask myself what could have happened that would wreck what from my sideline point of view was a close, loving, relationship. I drew my own conclusion. The male picture, the dropping off the face of the Earth, no video, no calls and things began to click. She was a "He," she was transitioning from being male to female. No voice cause her voice might be too masculine. No video she might reveal her transitioning to the camera. She showed me that picture because she was trying to come out of the closet to me. If only she had had the courage. Or if only I was a better person? Who could have helped her to come out by being more open, more sympathetic or something more then what I was. I don't know which. The lack of Skype was a mere ploy; she would have a changed voice but not really a feminised voice if she was in transition. She tried to come out with who she really was, perhaps to start a real relationship with me and when she failed to come out all the way, she fled. I can only imagine the fear she must have felt trying to come out to me. Even the failed visit with her father now made sense. Telling a back country male of Eastern European background is not like telling some young hip Hollywood parents who are into these things. Thus the rift with her father was started when she told him who she really was. His son was not his son anymore but his daughter. Her "Job" in Texas was a place for surgery. I am not judging her in any of this. Later on, you will see that I too, would choke when I should have dived right on in. So who am I to cast the first stone? Affairs of the heart are by no means something for the frail or those lacking in courage. This is just a retelling in as neutral manner as I can these events but they lead to some soul searching when I had deduced these revelations.
In the dimness of my mind, I had time to ponder this whole strange world of transitioning. *I*, a straight heterosexual going out with a what, a girl, a boy a girl-boy? Who was she? What is a transsexual? What does that even mean to begin with? They don't have any how to guides and the internet was not even nearly as user friendly for people transitioning as it is today; with vlogs, and site and all sorts of information. Back then, there was not a lot of information. Nor were there a lot of documentaries on the subject either. I know I looked hard for there to be some.  Being an intellectual geek I started to learn. Not much but some. Since I fell for her, there has to be something in her that attracts me and answers a need I have inside. How could I do that, to fall for a girl like that? So that said something about me right? It did. It said I was a male and she was a female. I was a male in love with a female. No matter where she started from! No matter where she went! And whatever would happen to her, she was not a he! She was who she felt she was inside; a woman trapped inside a male body. A person with the overwhelming courage of conviction in her own sexuality and gender to challenge the societal norms and become who she was, first by living as the opposite gender then as surgical alterations began to shape who she was outside as well. So unlike the stereotypical country bumpkin, I was not freaked out by the whole thing. I was just introspective in my own mind wondering about my own orientation. In fact, men who like Trans women are not gay. Gay porn sites do not even host such pictures because gay people do not like those types of videos or images. They are only to be found on Heterosexual sites. Because women in transition are beautiful period, not in their own way, not in some other way they are beautiful in every way! They just are regularly, plain old beautiful. Many are highly feminine and deeply caring. They grew up in violence, hatred and self loathing. People who have experienced pain, rejection and hatred are some of the most sympathetic people you will ever meet. They know what suffering is. They don’t want to inflict any more on anyone.

This journey continues

Trans-Formation

This column is about my future, my past and whatever else comes in with it. Welcome to here and welcome to you! As I try to figure out the oldest of Man's questions, boy meets girl, boy falls in love with girl, boy finds out she is with another. This will naturally involve my dating history, my life and the present, all centred on the person I am enamoured with. The title is basically the spoiler of it all. The girl in question is a transsexual. She was born a boy and transitioned to being a girl. As such, names and identifying information will be hidden to prevent anyone from finding out who she is, because she is still "in the closet" and has not made herself generally known! Not that she has to tell you or me or anyone as if it is anyone's business. If you are privilege to be trusted to know her life story or even a part of it then respect her wishes. She does not need to be anyone's gossip. She is who she is and that is more than enough for me. Formation is a French word meaning learning, or training. The title is my learning about transitional people.
I will try to tell you about the things that are happening and my take on them. I have a vested interest here to protect that someone, so don't ask me identifying questions. Protecting her is more important than your questions. We live in Quebec, French and English speaking, she speaks French and I speak English! Two Solitudes by Hugh MacLennan, is a story of Quebec's language wars. It is frankly more of funny comment on my society when I was not in love with the girl from the other side of the wall. We work in shipping and transportation. Basically we move boxes for a living. We work in a warehouse for a company that you have never heard of. And the rest, well I feel no compulsion to tell the truth about anything that will identify her. I will try my best to say what is true and what a lie is. But anything that pinpoints anything to her is untrue. 
I am a middle age white man with a university education. Why I am moving boxes? Part of that long story yet to come.  I am heterosexual. This is not something you normally have to say. After all, are not all of us thus so? Of course not. But until this recently, it was not a question that I had to grapple with in anything but abstractions. Human rights good, gay pride good, Marriage equality act, sounds great to me as I flip the channel for more sports news. I don't watch sport news. You get the point. My life was not something that you would consider extra ordinary. As a white man, I live in the world of privilege, White privilege, male privilege, Heterosexual privilege and I am sure many other privileges that I am not even aware of. Such as being able bodied; another privilege that most overlook, but it is the most glaring of privileges that we are to over look. I am also a member of the elites. In this French province, I may speak English, but my last name is that of the elites of the land. If you have an English surname, you are not discriminated against exactly; you are just treated with suspicious as being an "Other" (Une Autre). Someone who is allowed into society but not quite allowed all the way in. The thousands of digs that he real elites tell themselves they are still superior and in charge. But just as republicans, Donald J Trump and the white Americans are presiding over there coming lost of majority status with absolutely no grace at all, so too in Quebec is the privilege of our French speaking elites who got off the boat with Champlain coming to an end. My ancestors also got of that boat too. He was a blacksmith or so I am told. The difference is, my parents sent me to be educated in English to embrace the world, whereas most elites here just teach their kids French and try to shun outside influences. It won't work, and it never has worked in the past. All too often someone will rip the curtains and allow in the sunlight.
Missing the metaphors? Read that again. Thanks. 
I have written books, don't ask, you have never heard of them. I have a blog, which you have also never read. In fact, unlike this one, not even my mother is reading this one! It has a low readership and yet I keep writing. It’s not much but it is something that I do. You know, waiting for that day when something of mine sells into the best seller list. Until then I will keep experimenting and keep writing. Right now, this is my subject. 

As I boil this all down, I come to the song by the Pursuit of Happiness, "She aint Pretty" paraphrased of course:
"Boy meets girls, Boy loses girl, and boy tries to figure out what went wrong."
In the end, that is what this is. A day by day blog of my life around her. And yes she is a she and I love her. The rest is mere details.

Here is my journey.

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