Such a Dumb Blonde
By Sabrina G. Langton

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Author's Note: Hi this is the last one of these essays. I think I am ready to move on. I hope you are too and I hope YOU like it.

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Do you know what I love?

Really love?

I love a good series, a good tetralogy. Four little tiny stories or essays, four perfect real little worlds to get lost in, four perfect, well almost perfect, well nothing I do is perfect, but I did write a tetralogy. They all start with 'Such a.... mainly because I am so effin' clever, ha, well as you will learn maybe not. I am also lying about loving a tetralogy, sometimes I can't be trusted, I just found that word on Google.

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So... I am married. I am moving into my late fifties. I used to consider myself a crossdresser. A therapist I went to years ago considered me a fetishist. I was okay with it, I didn't really care and the wife seemed satisfied with the pamphlets she was given. Then it was forgotten, left in the corner, the pamphlets out in the recycling. Now I consider myself transgender, for years. Is transgender a feeling? Because I feel transgender-ish, just like when I was young. I went through a long phase in my teens and twenties where I cried when I looked into a mirror and saw male traits, saw something I didn't like, saw the me that everyone else saw. The crazy thing was I could change, completely change my look, wasn't even that big of a deal, or too hard, or a big loss of time and money, but now things are different. But that's not what we are here to talk about, that's just a little background.

Last year I wrote a story called "Daydreaming on Deck,' it is about a fifty-something, married, very new transwoman and lifelong crossdresser. I am going to serialize it and put it on Big Closet next. It got very positive responses, VERY positive reviews. Most of my stories star heroines in their twenties, but this particular tale was a first for me, someone my age, someone a little too similar to my personality. Someone WAY too similar, it made me nervous to publish it even though, who cares, who is going to put two and two together? Right?

It doesn't make me nervous anymore, it makes me quite proud. The reason, is the heroine with my name, of course, has all of my personality traits, all my special talents, and all the things I am terrible at. I am terrible at so many things. It is very revealing. It was months after it was published that I realized that. I probably wasn't paying enough attention when I originally wrote it.

I am very artistic, I graduated from NYU with a Batchelor of Fine Arts degree, I work in the media industry (Television), I play multiple instruments, I write, oh and I can bake if I have time, ha. I'm not bragging, I am not even that proud of what I can do, my wife and friends can do so much more.

We have a group, 6 of us, 3 married couples. 5 people can do almost anything you ask of them, 1 is kind of day dreaming, over-analyzing their beer or food, paying too much attention to the cinematography and editing while watching movies, wondering why no one is collecting or reading as many books as them.

My wife works in billing, she can discuss taxes, Medical companies, disasters, and murders, she can fix a washing machine, put up a ceiling fan, paint, do drywall, and even cut down trees. She is 5'1" and can do anything you ask of her, she can't play guitar, but that has never really come up. All five of my friends are super handy, they are always talking about auto repairs, home renovations and home improvement, decorating, and real estate. Me? I try to figure out which hop was used in the craft beer I am drinking. All five of my friends love Lowes, The Home Depot, any place with wood, molding, men in orange vests. Me? I follow close behind and look at Instagram. All five of my friends discuss politics, gun control, abortion, trans rights. Me? I listen for a while, I realize I never agree with any of them, I am way over on the left and they are way over on the right. By the way, we have been friends with 2 of them since high school and the other two for almost 30 years. None of them know where I sit on the political party line and none of them know I am transgender. All they know is that I am the most organized, I am always early, I have the best taste in restaurants and beer, I make the best cocktails and I am the one that cleans up after we eat. I throw away the paper plates, recycle the cans and bottles, I even make the coffee, so what if I don't get involved with their discussions, I'm busy.

No one EVER asks me for anything. I could write you a song, write you a term paper, edit your niece's wedding video, teach you Photoshop, give you a review, make suggestions on wine, movies, and music, I could drive your Nana to bingo. My wife and friends are constantly in each other's houses working on something tangible, but, no one ever asks me for help.

When my wife desperatley needs someone to help her with the faucet, the garage door, the car, she makes a face. She calls me a Dumb Blonde, she has done this for years. She has to show me how to open the hood of the car.

"God, you are such a Dumb Blonde." She shakes her head, I am used to it.

She has to point where I have to sign on documents, on tax forms, on permission slips for the kids, or anything.

"Look, right here, don't you see it says signature, you are such a Dumb Blonde."

It's fine, I'm used to it, I don't mind it, but I am really not blonde, I am redder. I am strawberry blonde.

I know she uses it as a derogatory term, she uses it in front of our friends, she uses it in front of the 3 kids, oh, and the dog. She doesn't realize while she is explaining Medicare or Social Security, I am thinking what will I do with that dark rum tonight that I have hidden in the pantry, or when will I have time to try on my new red heels? When she is annoyed that I can't cut her a piece of wood on the, um, jigsaw (Ha, I had to look it up), she doesn't realize I am thinking about what album I am going to listen to later, what artist am I in the mood for, or how am I going to get more foundation and concealer. When she yells at me for eating yogurt or cottage cheese after the expiration date, or for not taking the initiative to powerwash the side of the house, she doesn't realize that I know I will screw it up. Oh, and the expiration date? Do you really think I know what the date is?

"I should have been a man, I am just like my father."

She says that every once in a while.

"I should have been a man, ya know."

She says it a little too much for my liking, she is being facetious. She tells me she pays all the bills just like her Dad.

"You are such a Dumb Blonde how could you let them charge you that much?"

I shrugged, I didn't know, I still don't know even though she told me what I did wrong.

Now, does she call me that because of the whole, um, transgender thing, this issue I have, this problem that won't go away? Is it for others, my friends to know what she knows? If there is a drag queen, a trans man or woman in the neighborhood, the news or on TV, or in our vicinity, she lets me know. She tells me her opinion, and surprisingly she makes sure I am finally involved in the conversation.

"It's beer, it is mass-marketed beer, why does everybody care so much? I don't let any of you drink it anyway."

That was the last time my wife and my friends got me involved in their conversation. Bud Light put something about the rainbow on its label, or can, or somewhere. I think it's fine, I really have no opinion about it. I don't drink Bud Light, I control the beer our group enjoys, so I know the 5 of them don't drink it either, as long as they are with me, ha. We drink Double IPAs, Fruited Sours, Doppelbocks, and Dubbels. If those breweries put something on their labels, and some already have, I still wouldn't care. I could tell you about the aroma, or give you some taste notes, I could even give you my rating out of ten, but no one ever asks, (so I have to tell them), they won't listen they are all in some deep discussion about labels.

"YOU should be doing this, but you are such a Dumb Blonde you would mess it up."

Oh well, of course. What she doesn't realize is, um, my 3 kids are just like me. All three have dirty blonde hair. My two girls dyed their hair red, now they are both strawberry blonde. My one daughter is a complete foodie, she considers herself a mixologist, she constantly sends me pictures of the drinks or meals that she makes or has at restaurants. I think I have a picture of every beer she and her boyfriend have consumed since she turned 21 (And there is a lot). My middle daughter loves music, I bought her a turntable last year and she does nothing but ask me who sang what. I always know the answer. I can't do your taxes, I can barely paint your room, but I can tell you what the 50s, 60s, 70s, 80s, or 90s songs we are listening to, in about a second and a half. Then there is my son, he loves music, movies, making videos, reading books, and meeting people, he is almost exactly like me. I am not too good at meeting people. He is always daydreaming, always thinking about something else, is organized, clean, and has a lot of friends. Considerably more than 5.

They all seem fine, they are all passionate collectors, artistic, creative, well-read, and have great taste in music. Our 3 kids are just like me, just don't tell my wife she gave birth to 3 Dumb Blondes.

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The End
(Thank you for indulging me with these last four essays and thank YOU for reading.)

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