It's time to stand up, stand out, BE out (maybe)
I hope my friends are friendly.
I’m not actually OUT but I’m opening to more people.
It’s taken time. I’ve been dressing for a long time – on my own, in my house but it’s all just for me. There’s no time to share. No time to …. And so it is time for a change.
I’ve decided to go back to having small dinner parties – four or maybe six at a time. And I hope, I really hope, that I choose my guests carefully. I want them to be okay with this. Friendly would be good. Kind would be good. There’s all sorts of adjectives for how it might go badly.
I want to be able to wear my new satin trousers. My new blouse. I think, no, I’m sure the bra will remain out of sight for some months – my plan is that I’ll take it off at the last minute.
It’s the day. It’s the hour. It’s the minute.
I’ve invited three women and two husbands.
I’ve prepared the food, the drink, the table, the flowers, all of it.
Alex and Mike, Mary and Paul, Sandy and myself (Peter).
I’ve almost prepared myself – I do have my choice of clothing – the panties of course, the blue jersey trousers and the blue silk shirt. As I said, no bra, but a dark blue silk vest instead. No jewellery. I did wonder about a brooch. Maybe jewellery is the next step. I think I am coming across as fairly vague genderwise – that’s my target. I’d not been sure about shoes. Instead of the low-heeled shoes I intended to wear, I wore some plain indoor slippers.
During this self-imposed exile in the couple of years since university, I’d let my hair grow. In accord with diktats from my mother while a teenager, I made sure I kept it clean and in good condition too. I think I didn’t have anything I would call femme about it. But I’d probably know better after this evening.
I did tidy the house considerably – only a two-up two-down inherited from an uncle – but I wanted any potential exposure to be somewhat under my own control. No lipstick in the bathroom, for example. Nothing overt - I hoped - apart from some aspects of me.
Sandy was the first arrival, but within moments, everybody has arrived. Coats onto chairs, multiple hallos and some introductions. Then the drinks and the nibbles. Chaos for some minutes – but that’s normal for a typical gathering. Even if, as I said, there’s only six of us and we sort of knew each other already.
I had said when I invited them all that this was ‘a bit of a breakout for me’ – inviting people round. And I had said that I wanted to resurrect my social life, meet more people, get out and do some new things. I had a big board by the kitchen door saying ‘New Ideas for the New Peter’. – and I’d written the first two or three.
‘Give a Dinner Party once a month’
‘Find a Quiz Night at a Pub’
‘Look at Short or Evening Courses at the Local College’
‘Dress Better – Buy some New Clothes’
& - for people to write in
&
Adapting what Arlo Guthrie said ‘how did the Last man find friends to invite for dinner’ He’s so alone he doesn’t even have a street to lie in for a truck to run him over. Where did he get the money? Where did he get the friends? I did have friends - but they had drifted with time.
Fortunately, not every part of every story NEEDS to be given in detail. They were friends from University who I’d just about kept in touch with. Even though it was now 4 years later, we’d kept in touch. Somehow, I still felt I could rely on them not to be too judgmental.
Sandy began, “You’re dressing better than you did as a student. Is that part of Item 4?”
Mike joined in “Sandy’s right y’know. D’y dress like that at work?”
“Not quite so much. I tend to wear black at work. (carefully not answering in detail).
“You look smart,” said Alex. “I like the trousers. Quite like something I’d want to wear.”
[Oooh, maybe a bit close to the bone]
“I find it’s sufficiently smart – and comfortable. And yes, it’s all part of Item 4.”
“You certainly sound more confident, more determined than last time we saw you. When was that – about a year ago?”
“Not quite. It’s July now and it was just before Christmas. I’ll just get the food out.”
Sandy followed me. “That’s a nice pair of trousers, y’know. Very similar to ones I looked at in the spring. Different colour of course. Like you said, you look very comfortable. If that’s the result, then keep going. You used to be quite, erm, scratchy might be the word.”
She continued on while I loaded the plates. I didn't have much time to respond - and I couldn't think of exactly how to respond.
As we carried the plates through, it was clear that the other four had been talking together. And it felt that they had been talking about me – from the glances I got from Paul and Alex.
They didn’t feel aggressive – more puzzled.
In the morning, I got a call from Alex.
“Peter dear, (that was a step forward?) Can I ask some questions?”
“Can I stop you.”
“Course you can. You can even refuse to answer or veer away as you sometimes used to.”
There was a pause.
“Y’know … I don’t get the same vibe off you that I did.”
“Is this where I say ‘uh, wot’”
She grinned. “Probably”
“You’re not who you used to pretend to be, y’know.”
“erm, wh, duh, wh’ y talking about’” I managed to string together enough syllables.
“Using words carefully, I did like those trousers last night – and they were EXACTLY what I was looking at a month or so ago – but in a different colour. They’re very nice – and they suited you too. Not so sure about your colour co-ordination with the top – but you’ll learn.” …. Pause … “You are planning to dress better, eh? Does that actually mean like the better half of the population, eh.”
“Erm, duh,”
“Honey – take a deep breath. I’m not sure what the others will do – but I’m with you. You were pretty ordinary back at Uni – but I feel you’re blossoming. I don’t mean boob-blossom either unless that’s another secret you’re keeping for the moment. If going down the crossdressing route is what you need to do - I'll support you all the way. Are you going to dress regularly?"
“Not as far as I know.”
“Oh, it speaks. Keep going, dear. I'm sorry but now you've started, it'll be hard to put that egg back in the chicken. You will be doing more now you've started. So. Can I persuade you to my hairdresser, for example? Do you need help? Do you want help? Can you actually ask for help? Or are you going back into hiding? And what’s your name, now?"
“Er, dmnbf,” I wasn’t speaking well. "Tina."
"There’s a brave girl. Tina did you manage to say. Come here, darlin’ my brave girl Tina needs a hug."
Chest to Breast – not quite right maybe - it still felt lovely.
She smelt lovely too. I have to say, I’d not been that close to a girl friend that often in that sort of situation.
I felt myself relax.
“D’y think it’s worth going to a hairdresser.”
“I wouldn’t have suggested it otherwise. Girl-you has to be given some lessons. That’s one place to start. They deal with all sorts. There’s a huge variety of women, hairy, balding, short hair, long hair, dreadful hair and all the skin problems too – and then of course they deal with a number of, lets call them ‘special girls’.
“er, y’ sure. T feels so scary.”
“It’s all about balance, tipping points and especially being, showing, having confidence that you’re doing the right thing. Well, ARE YOU?”
“You took a big step last night. You’re either going onwards or back into your hutch. Come with me, and I’ll help you be brave.”
I could say nothing – I stared at her. “Why?”
“Let’s just say you’re not the first girl-boy I’ve ever met. And last time, I didn’t help enough or quickly enough or … it went bad and some of her neighbours beat her up. She didn’t live in a great area – but … enough for now. I’m offering help. Partly for her, partly for you and a bit to help me feel better.”
