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by Liana
Rated: E · Non-fiction · Writing · #2239342
A story of one man's transition to the woman he was meant to be.
I remember going to Hamburger Marys in Clearwater to a drag show in 2018. I remembered being enamored with the performers and thought it would be cool to be one of them. On the way home, my wife said to me, "You know if you wanted to do that, you could." I remember thinking about it for a few days, experimenting with my drag look. After a few days, I went to my wife and said, "I don't want to be a performer, I want to be a woman."

Rewind to 1986. I don't remember what brought it up but I remember coming out to my mother. I remember saying, "I want to be a girl." My mother freaked out, keeping her voice down, she said "Not my little boy!" As we know, nothing transpired regarding my transition.
Fast forward to 1988, my father was a very masculine man and was born in 1940. His idea of his son being a woman was not even something that would even cross his mind. Until 1988. I came out to him with hair down to my shoulders and a gold stud earring in my right ear. When I came out to him, he asked me if I was a f****t. Of course, I had no idea what he meant. Again, nothing transpired regarding my transition.

In 1999, I was living in Memphis, Tenessee, and came very close to coming out. I remember talking to my friend about coming out and he was 100% behind me, I truly believe the reason that I didn't transition was that I was supposed to meet my wife in 2004.

Fast forward to 2004. I was going to my old church and one day I saw this beautiful woman at the singles booth. 2 weeks later, I would find out that she was a facilitator for the group and was married. She, her husband, and I, along with a few other friends became very good friends. In 2008, her husband got sick. Ed would die in less than two weeks from pancreatic cancer. Three days before he died, myself and a friend were praying for him. When we finished praying, Ed took my hand and made me promise to take care of his wife. I thought nothing of it until he passed away. At the time, I was living in my van and trying to save up money to get a place to stay. Stephanie (who will be known as Stevie from here on) needed to pull on her resource of me immediately and asked me to come stay on her couch as she didn't like the thought of me living in a van. I stayed with her for two weeks on the couch and then something happened where she needed me to sleep next to her. (She has legitimate health issues) The third week, we went to Daytona. There, I kissed my friend Stephanie, who would become Stevie and my wife on the beach for the first time,
© Copyright 2020 Liana (jbardin at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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