I thought I was gay.

Seriously. I though that I was gay.

I mean who knew? I had friends that were gay. I hung out most
weekends with a coworker who I found out was gay. We drank and ate and
watched movies.

I was in high school. He was maybe twenty. We worked in the same
factory. We were friends. We had a lot of fun. Drinking, watching
movies. Going out some times.

I would bring my girlfriend. Over to his place. My first serious
girlfriend. I gave her my virginity. She and I kinda went at it like
rabbits. She was on the pill. I was seventeen, I guess. So was she.
I guess I was her second. Serial monogamy and all that.

My school friends used to hang out in the park or in Trish's basement.
We all drank and watched movies. And smoked pot. We had a lot of fun.

We got hassled by the cops a few times. But that was usually not a
big deal. We were all middle class white kids. We were usually polite
and we moved along when the cops said to move along.

Rick was my friend from work. He did not have many friends here in
town. He moved to the "Big City" of Denver from Cheyenne for this job.
So we pulled him into our rotating group of friends. Mike and Dean and
Larry, and Trish, and Megan and Liza, and I. And a few others from time
to time. We hung out. We went to movies. We smoked pot and drank beer.
We had a lot of fun.

So Trish and I broke up. I guess I was drunk I guess that I thought we
shared more than she thought we shared. When she found me dressed up
in one of her Gunne Sax dresses she kinda blew.

"What the fuck are you doing Chris!" she said.
"Are you gay?" she asked.
We had fucked just the day before.

I had this need to wear dresses. I did not understand it. My idle thoughts
were always wrapped up in making myself look as girly, as feminine,
as beautiful as possible. I'd been doing it since I was maybe seven
or eight. Trish did not get it. Trish and I broke up. Eventually she
married Dean.

Rich and I started hanging out a whole lot more. We did not spend as
much time with my school friends any more. It was just us. Two
Amigos. I think he saw him self as Chevy Chase. I was fine being Steve
Martin. No one wanted to be Martin Short.

Rich and I spent lots of time together. We did lots of drugs. Speed.
LSD, pot, coke, probably PCP. And booze. We had a lot of fun.
We started going to gay bars. We started hanging out with a new group
of friends. Way more flamboyant. Definitely gay. Definitely fun.

Rich and I would jack each other off. We did not do any butt
games or face games. We stuck to hand jobs. Showers, lube, body rubs.
Focused massage work. More coke. More dance clubs. We had fun.

I wanted to try drag. I really wanted to try drag. We went to some
drag shows. I tried making friends with the headliner. She wanted
nothing to do with me. I started to hang out with some of the other
girls. I really wanted to try drag.

I did a few shows as a chorus girl. I waited tables at the
club. Rich and I still hung out. I got better. I got pretty good.
I got to where Rich and I could go out to normie clubs. To where we
could have some fun. I was Goldie he was Chevy. Kinda tall for
Goldie. But bubbly and fun.

I got picked up for soliciting. I was not soliciting. I was just
walking home. But I was in my club dress and I was walking past that one
place where the boys hung out. I was way more girl than most of them.

I was maybe nineteen. Rich was twenty one. I was waking to his place
to make up after we had argued. He liked boys. He did not want to
date a girl. I loved being a girl. I love my dick but I love being a
girl too.

I got picked up for soliciting. I was not soliciting. I was just
walking home. I was going to walk to my dad's house. I had shoes but they
were crap for walking in. I was pretty drunk and I came on to the
cop. You know. The kind of come on that'll get a girl a drink in a
bar. The cop did not like that any more that rich did when I danced
with other men. He did not like me flirting with other men.

I was taken to the drunk tank. I was put in a cell by myself in the men's
jail. I called my dad. He had an answering machine. He only checked
it on week days. I was arraigned the next morning. I was going to be
brought in front of the magistrate. No judge for me.

My step mom was a magistrate in that county. I guess she saw my name on
the list. She came to visit me in my cell. I was still wearing my tight
dress and heels. My makeup was all messed and my wig was in my hands.

"Is this what you have been up to?" she asked.

"Rich and I broke up." I said. "He likes boys."

"He does not like you like this?" she asked.

"I don't know. I don't know." I said. I cried.

"Are you gay?" she asked.

"I don't think so." I answered.