Excerpt From My Memoire: A Life In Transition

It won’t work out

It started the first weeks of my Junior year. I met the “Terrible Trio”, Barbara, Liz, and Barby, three freshman girls who had been friends since Kindergarten. Barbara was clearly the leader of the three. Somehow her outgoing nature made it possible for her to make instant acquaintances of everyone. She latched onto me the first day! She got the notion into her head that she was going to have me as her boyfriend. If you know Barbara, you just know that she gets her own way. She was forever telling everyone that she and I were an item. This presumptuousness amused me greatly at first, but began to pall. She even started writing romantic love poems and gave them to me, hand written, in a ‘blank book’. Now for some silly reason this made Cassie very jealous. Never mind that I wasn’t really going with Cassie, just friends with her, she was not going to let Barbara have me. Never mind that I had zero interest in going with Barbara, she was determined that I would. It was funny in retrospect but at the time this was very distressing. One morning, just a few weeks into the school year, they squared off for a shouting match in the hallway. I was so distressed by the spectacle, (over me? why? Nobody was going to win me anyway!) I just sat down on the concrete and hung my head in exasperation. Barby later recounted to me that that was the moment that she fell in love with me, head over heels, no turning back.

Apparently Barbara has a very good heart because when Barby told her this, Barbara turned all of her energy into helping win me for Barby instead of herself. Barbara and Liz made sure that Barby was sitting next to me, all of the time. Barby began to ‘puppy dog’ me. I couldn’t turn around without her there. I ignored her completely. This went on for weeks.

My mother insisted that my sibs and I have a Halloween party that year. She said we were not to be going out and doing anything like what she suspected had happened the year before. (I seem to recall there might have been something about my brother Mark being seen near where eggs landed on a patrol car over on Edith Avenue as it crossed the bridge over the creek?) She said that we each could invite some friends over that night. I invited a few friends (all girls, no boys, as they all had other, less “wholesome” plans) including Cassie, Kathy, Beep (short for Beatrice P.), Barbara, Liz, and Barby. Well, I found out later that Barbara had gone around telling everyone but Barby not to go. So come Halloween night I was disappointed to find that only Barby had come. I was actually hurt, Barby was not my favorite. But she was still a nice kid, if a little too ‘puppyish’. We pulled taffy together, played Frisbee and ping pong in the garage (silly three car, three door monstrosity that virtually hid the rest of the house from the street), bobbed for apples, and swapped tales of previous Halloweens. Barby was ecstatic. I was actually paying attention to her!

But back at school… I ignored her completely!

A number of more weeks go by. One night I get a call from Barbara. I remember the conversation very well. I was very distressed by it on several levels.

“Did you know that it was Barby’s birthday today?”

“No, I didn’t”

“She had a birthday party today.”

“Oh,” I said, wondering where this was leading to and why it should concern me.

“Yes, and she was crying at her own birthday party!”

Now I was feeling sorry for her. I did not feel close to her but I did like her and would never have wanted to see her feeling blue. I asked very concerned and perplexed, “Why? Why was she crying, I don’t understand?”

“She was crying over you!” She burst out in a very accusatory tone, “She was crying because you won’t even notice her! You know that she’s in love with you and you treat her like dirt!”

Now I felt very defensive. I had done nothing to encourage Barby. On the contrary, while I was never cruel, I had irritatedly snubbed her, repeatedly.

“Why won’t you be nice to her?”

“I am not interested in her.”

“Why not? She loves you! Why can’t you just be nice to her? Why can’t you just take her out some? Why can’t you just take her to the Christmas Dance?”

“Because it would never work out! That’s why!!”

“Give me a good reason!”

“Look, it just wouldn’t work out!” I was thinking, yeah, right. I’m going to just tell Barbara, the biggest gossip on campus, that I’m not attracted to girls but I am to boys, Yep, and I’m going to tell her that I’m already researching how I’m going to get sex change surgery!

“I’m not going to get off the phone until you tell me why you can’t just take her to one lousy dance?!”

We went in circles for half an hour with me telling her that it wouldn’t be a good idea and would she please just drop it. I knew from prior experience that just hanging up wouldn’t do. She would call back. If I left the phone off the hook she would just give me hell the next day. Barbara is very persistent. Finally in exasperation I caved in, “Alright, alright! I give up. I will invite her to the Christmas Dance if it will make you happy.” Since I loved dancing, I actually wanted to go to the Christmas dance. But it was the one dance a year that one couldn’t go stag. Though it wasn’t a school rule, it was socially required that you go with a date. I had thought I would go with one of my friends, perhaps Cassie or Kathy, if either didn’t have a real date lined up. I knew Beep had a steady boyfriend, so she was out. So, if I had to have a date, it might as well be Barby.

Having gotten her way, Barbara’s tone instantly turned friendly, “Oh, she’ll be so happy! You won’t regret it, you’ll see.”

“OK, OK, What’s her number?” I said resigning myself.

“Well, she isn’t home tonight, she’s baby-sitting. But I have that number too.” She hung up after giving me the number.

Feeling like I had been had, I dialed the number. “Hello?” a very uncertain voice answered. It was Barby, and it did sound like she had been crying and sniffling. My heart broke. I didn’t want to be the cause of that. And I didn’t want to be her ‘boyfriend’. But I told myself, just one date, just one date. “Hi, Barby, it’s XXX.” I heard a sharp intake of breath. I had definitely surprised her. Well, I thought, no sense in delay, “Would you like to go to the Christmas Dance with me?” I could clearly hear her stifle a squeal as she began jumping up and down. I groaned inwardly, what have I gotten myself into?

“Yes, Yes, I would love to!”

“Good then, I’ll see you tomorrow, bye.”

“Bye.”

I could hear her give full throat to that previously squelched squeal before the receiver actually made it to the hook. I just chuckled and shook my head.

I took her to the Christmas dance, bringing her a very lovely corsage, as the dance was a formal affair. I felt like I was humoring a small and precious child. Afterwards, she still puppy-dogged behind me, but I no longer snubbed her. She even tagged along by signing up for the same science class the next semester. It forced me to have to spend a lot of time tutoring her, to keep her from falling hopelessly behind. I learned that she was actually a very sweet and generous soul. She volunteered at Agnew’s State Hospital, helping the mentally retarded. She was very happy, because I was her “boyfriend”. It stayed that way for months, until I began to trust her and finally told her that I was transsexual that next summer, the summer I had the nanny job. I had to tell her, as she was beginning to push for sexual intimacy, something I just couldn’t give her. She reacted with deep disappointment and discomfort yet with sympathy. She wanted to keep me as her “boyfriend”, and only slowly stopped tagging after me. It took six months to convince her I was serious. After that she went from being a kid that I was humoring to being a good friend.

I finally came out to Barbara at next year’s Christmas Dance, my Senior year. That is when I told Barbara why it hadn’t worked out!