"My First Date"
By Sheri Gwen Evans
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You have to be very very careful what you wish for in this life. No
matter how far fetched a wish it may seem at first, it may just end up
being granted. This thought was rolling over and over in my mind as I
was waiting in my living room for my very first date to arrive. I couldn’t
believe what was about to happen to me. It all seemed like a dream that I
would awaken from at any moment. A precious fantasy that I had hopelessly
dreamed about for my entire adult life was about to actually come true.
Okay, technically, this wasn’t going to be my "First" date. I had been on
other dates before in my life. But not in the roll I would have preferred
or felt the most comfortable in… not as the person I had always longed to
be… not in the roll I was going to be in tonight. I remember always being
overwhelmed on all previous dates by thoughts of what it would be like to
be on the other side of the situation: What would it feel like to be the
one being taken out… What would it feel like to be the one that was
pampered… What would it feel like to be the one that was pursued; Thoughts
that would immediately engender detailed fantasies of immense complexity
lasting for days on end. Fantasies that I felt so at home with. Fantasies
that I knew in my heart should have been realities. What would it feel
like to be the girl, I had always longed to know? Well… tonight… I was
finally going to find out.
I met him through a personal ad that I placed in a local newspaper. I was
reading them while at the Laundromat one day, being amused by some of the
cute catch phrase headings some of them had, when I was suddenly struck by
an idea for a catchy heading of my own. I was so inspired that I ended up
writing myself an ad right then during the drying cycle. For days I
couldn’t get the idea of sending it to the paper out of my head and
eventually I just went ahead and did it. The notion of sticking my ad in
with all the "normal" women’s ads seemed like it would be an interesting
experiment. A week or so later, the following ad showed up in the
personals column of a dinky little strait local newspaper in the Women
Seeking Men section:
SOME ASSEMBLY REQUIRED…
Attractive, romantic DWF, 38, 5’10", 145 lbs.,
tremendous sense of humor, likes dancing,
coffee houses, romantic dinners, romantic
walks, romantic movies; In search of romantic,
tall, witty, non-smoking/no drugs SWM, 35-45,
who’s secure enough with himself to overlook
the fact that I am a pre-operative, male-to-female
transsexual.
A couple weeks passed… and nothing. I wasn’t surprised. It was, after all,
merely an experiment (I tried to remind myself). Then I got a response
from a really nice sounding guy who seemed great… until we finally spoke
and he realized that the whole thing WASN’T just a joke. Then nothing
again for another week.
Then Bob called.
I was excited from the moment I heard his message in response to my ad. He
sounded nice and quite sincere. A little bit shy about leaving a message,
but he was very interested in meeting me. He had a great job, lived close
to me (within walking distance), was in really good shape, said he was 48
but looked much younger, had only ever known one other TS but only for a
short time, never married but was almost once… He just sounded like a
perfect candidate test pilot for my maiden flight, as it were. I called
him back and we chatted for quite some time. We had many things in common.
We liked the same books and movies, had similar philosophies, had survived
life-threatening mindsets, laughed at the same jokes, etc. etc. etc. We
set up a brief initial meeting at the little nearby coffee shop where I
worked for that Sunday.
He was not kidding about being in shape. My GOD what a shape! I was
initially quite attracted to him and my attraction increased from there as
we chatted. He worked out at a gym for a couple hours a day every day, he
said, and was quite into body building (He was also not kidding about
looking younger than 48. He looked maybe 40). He had a perfect physique!
The tank top and shorts were a good choice if he was hoping to impress me.
I wore my favorite denim dress and some sandals (my "Confidence" outfit).
We were really hitting it off and I could tell as we talked that his
feelings about me were mirroring mine for him. We only had a half hour to
chat because I had to start serving up the java, but he was VERY
interested in seeing me again and agreed to meet me at a club I was going
to be at with some support group friends that Friday night. We would be
able to talk some more then. I couldn’t wait!
He met me at the club exactly on time. Punctuality really impresses me. I
had a couple drinks (Cosmopolitans) that he bought for me, he no longer
drinks himself, and we chatted on for a couple hours. We TRIED to chat
anyway. The music was so loud, it was hard to hear anything lower than a
yell. We found a relatively quiet area downstairs to finish our talk. I
was really starting to like this guy a lot. He was so easy to talk to,
very intelligent. Very down-to-earth and not at all pretentious. He was a
Perfect Gentleman. He seemed completely okay with my situation and never
messed up with the pronouns once (and to this day never has!). I was just
a woman to him… and that was exactly what I wanted to be to him. It was
getting pretty late and since I was parked a few blocks away, he asked if
he could drive me to my car. It was a judgment call. Should I get into a
car with a man that I hardly knew? I had to go with my instincts… and my
instincts were all for the idea. It was a ludicrously short drive, but it
was our first chance to be alone together. At my car, we arranged to go
out that Sunday night. He wanted to take me to a real nice restaurant he
knew of down the coast a ways and then we could see a movie or something
afterwards. The two meetings we had now had were mere precursors…
preliminary reconnoitering… compatibility studies. What he was proposing
was what I considered a real, honest to goodness, full scale "Date". I
said there was a film I’d been wanting to see and I was sure it would be
playing somewhere near that restaurant. The date was set. The die was
cast. We talked a little longer, seeing nothing but positive signs in each
other’s eyes. Finally, we said our farewells and I gave him the briefest
of "First Date" type kisses goodnight; the kind that don’t even really
count as kisses. His Gentlemanly Perfection flowed on without missing a
beat.
So there I was in my apartment that Sunday night, just before 6pm, all
dolled up in a nice pair of black pants and a multi-colored silk top (my
"I Don’t Know What The Hell Else To Wear" outfit), waiting for my fantasy
to take corporeal form. I didn’t make any extra preparations than I
usually did to go out as far as make-up was concerned. I didn’t want to
over-do anything. I wasn’t really nervous. I felt like the pressure
wasn’t on ME for a change! I already knew that we’d have lots to talk
about. I was going to try and be relaxed and natural. Heck… it worked when
I went out on my first date with my ex-wife! I knew, however, that this
was going to be much… much different.
He showed up at the stroke of six, as he promised, God love him. He
looked so handsome. He was wearing a nice pair of gray dress slacks and a
casual sport shirt that really showed off his muscles. We were going to
make quite the couple! We got to his car and he opened the door for me
(Yesss!!!). The ride down the coast to the restaurant passed without a
moment’s pause in conversation. We were so eager to learn more about each
other. So many things we shared. All along the way, I felt nothing but
calm contentment. We were clicking so effortlessly. We got to the
restaurant and he opened my door for me again (Oh I was going to be able
to get REAL used to this!) and we went in.
It was a very posh place. Everything on the menu looked so wonderful. He
suggested the duck salad, followed by the fillet prepared like their
peppered New York steak. That was how he liked doing them at the
restaurant he was the head chef at. Who was I to argue with a
professional? I deferred to his learned opinion. He ordered for us and
asked for a Cosmopolitan "for the lady" and an alcohol-free beer for
himself. I was in Heaven! Our orders out of the way, we continued with our
conversation. He said that he had a confession to make: He wasn’t really
48 as he had told me on our first meeting. He was afraid that I might be
turned off by his real age, given my request in my ad. He was really 53!
It didn’t matter a bit, I told him. He still only looked 40. But I
appreciated his honesty, I said. The shape he was in MORE than made up for
any chronological difference we had in our ages. Plus, his energy and
exuberance made him seem more like 32! The meal was FABULOUS! He was right
about the steak and the salad. And that was the best Cosmopolitan I have
ever had! We had a yummy desert while we talked and talked some more. I
thought guys weren’t supposed to like communicating? (I am embarrassed to
admit this, dear sisters: His picking up the check was one of the biggest
thrills of my entire life!) Then it was off to the movie.
We were catching the last showing of the film that evening so it wasn’t
very crowded. The film stunk. I’m sure the idea of leaving crossed our
minds more than once. But it was worth it… just to be there with him,
holding his hand and snuggling shoulders. There was definitely some
chemistry going on here. The feel of his hand in mine… the attraction I
could sense from him… I was giddy with euphoria. I was finally playing the
game from the proper side of the net and, Dear God… how I was loving it.
The ride home was like a sweet dream. Even though it was midnight on a
Sunday, we decided to take the "Long" way home along the coast. The
highway was deserted. It felt as thought we were the only people left in
the world. I held his free hand in both of mine and we drove along in
bliss.
About half way home, he made a suggestion. How about if we parked near his
place? He could show me his condo, we could maybe listen to an LP or two
from his collection and then he could walk me home? I consulted my
instincts for advice, but they were too busy cheering their heads off like
crazed European soccer fans to give me any rational answer. "Sure…! That
sounds nice!" I heard emanate from my mouth as I tightened my grip on his
hand ever so slightly. I felt so at ease with this man. So natural. I was
not looking to hop right in the sack with anybody. I had the feeling that
he knew that and felt the same way himself. But we were playing this all
one move at a time and he had just made his. He was saying "Trust me…",
and my move was saying "…All right".
It was a very nice one-bedroom condo. He had been living there for 13
years and it was almost paid for. It was kept very neat… for a guy’s
place. Somewhat starkly decorated (already I was thinking "It could use a
woman’s touch…"). Muscle building and Harley Davidson magazines on the
coffee table (his Harley’s name is Rosebud) I noticed as I made myself
comfy on the sofa. He got us a couple diet 7-Ups. Then he put on an old
Sergio Mendez album… nice and low so we could talk. It was all getting to
be a little too cliché, but I wouldn’t have changed anything for the
world. We sat on the couch and talked for about a half hour. The Brazil 66
began playing "The Look of Love" (Okay… who wrote this script…???). There
was a certain pause in the conversation as we were gazing into each
other’s eyes. We smiled reassuringly to one another. Then… at just the
right moment, he began to lean towards me… and I met him half way.
Ever since I had begun my transition, I had known… had hoped at least…
that this moment would come. People would ask me, "So you were married to
a woman for 8 years… are you going to be with women or with men now?" The
concept was pure conjecture to me until now. I told them I wasn’t sure
yet, that I would probably be with men. I had experimented in my early
20’s being with a man. Just long enough to prove to myself that I wasn’t
gay. And I wasn’t. I had always been attracted to women. It was part of my
rationale to convince myself that maybe I wasn’t a transsexual. But I had
always fantasized about being with a man… AS A WOMAN… for as long as I
could remember. If I was a woman, I could imagine being VERY attracted to
men. The idea was VERY appealing. What could be more natural? Heck, I
could even imagine being a lesbian for that matter. It didn’t seem to
matter in my mind as long as I was a woman. But I didn’t happen to be
sitting on a couch with a lesbian. I was sitting on a couch with a
handsome, muscular, sexy man who thought of me as an attractive woman!
Okay, so I have a little something out of the ordinary for a woman in the
genital department, among other things. His overlooking all that (in his
own way) was the magic spell that turned me into what I had wished to be
for my entire life, what I really always HAD been. Suddenly, it didn’t
matter even to me. We were simply a man… and a woman … taking their first
tentative steps towards knowing each other intimately. It was no longer
just a fantasy. It was real. It was… Glorious.
He was, and I cannot state this enough, a Perfect Gentleman. No rude
moves, no advantages taken, never a misplaced hand. He was not just some
Admirer scoring another Tranny. We were both beginners at this. We were
both moving slowly… tentatively… aware of the other’s feelings. We were
dancing in sync… we were fanning the flames of our desires for what seemed
like the first time in our lives… We were exploring the magic and
rapturous rewards that the Universe was holding out to us for being true
to ourselves and believing in and striving towards our dreams… We were
totally focused on each other, as One, communicating on a cosmic level of
immense complexity, pairing our souls together in a bond of euphoric and
delirious magnitude the likes of which I could have never in my wildest
imagination ever have dared to contemplate… and we were only kissing.
After an ecstatic eternity of what must have been all of 15 minutes, we
both came up for a little air. We smiled warmly and lovingly to each other
and I said, "Ummm… I… think we may really have something here…" We both
chuckled at the understatement and he said, "I think you’re right!" and
again… we came together for another dance.
I felt so alive. I felt so glorious, so natural. There was no internal
fantasy going on in my head of "What must this feel like for THEM?" There
was no need to fantasize at ALL. Reality was better than I had ever
imagined it could be! For the first time in my life, I felt totally at
peace with myself being with another person intimately. Everything felt
right. Everything felt normal. It felt just like I had finally… come Home.
When every last bit of make-up was gone from the lower part of my face
(thank God I couldn’t look in a mirror), we decided it was time for him to
walk me home. It was a cool night, very late, and again it seemed like we
were the only people on Earth. We walked hand in hand or arm in arm. I
don’t think my feet were even touching the ground. We got to my place and
we stepped inside. He said he would call me soon. We had already made
tentative plans for our next date. We said our goodnights and we kissed
for awhile more. As I closed the door behind him, my entire being buzzing
with bliss, standing right where the dream had begun, I realized that
there IS magic in this world. There was simply no way to deny it.
After what has been four months since that magical night, I have had
nothing but constant reassurance of that fact. Bob and I spend every
moment we can together. Our relationship has grown like a precious
blossom. We are the personification of each other’s dreams. We
constantly marvel at the bounty that the Universe is capable of
providing. You need only wish for it… very very carefully.
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