Dancing Queen?

As you walk into a dark and smokey drag-bar, the rhythmic pulsing of distorted house music rattles your chest and reminds you that it's been a long time since the last time you went dancing. Oh dancing! What a sweet release! Nothing but you and the music. You move your body in time with, against, into and out of the music in a frenetic rhythm that is all your own. People around you openly stare, whether in wonder, amazement, or abject horror you don't really know and would like to think that you couldn't care less.

But you've just arrived and need to do the rounds, giving out hugs and handshakes to new friends and old. You've arrived on this particular occasion to celebrate a good friend who is transgender like yourself. Included in your circle of friends are M2F and F2M transsexuals, cross dressers, drag queens, drag kings, gender queer, gender fuck, and bi-gendered... all of whom seek the solidarity of each others companionship in the relative safety of the local gay-bar.

Maybe it's the way you dance, the sweat in your hair, the fact that you're not wearing a bra and your tiny tits aren't big enough to really make an impression, or that you've been hanging around with queens all night, but you get clocked on the dance floor by a group of giggly college girls. They egg each other on, trying to see which of them has the guts to come over and dance with you. Finally the bravest (or drunkest) of the group comes over and gets right up in your personal space before you realize what's happening.

Not wanting to embarrass her or yourself, or hurt anyone's feelings, you dance with her for a few seconds before backing off to do your own thing once more. Suddenly another girl from the group pulls out a camera and begs to take your picture to commemorate her friend's bravery. Not knowing what to do or say you oblige and then retreat to your own corner of the dance floor, not really knowing what to make of the whole affair.

Eventually the night trickles to an end and you escape the noise and confusion of the bar. As you drive the one hour trip home you reel from the insanity of the night. Were you dancing well? Did they really clock you or were you just being paranoid? Why didn't anyone really want to dance with you? Where the hell were all the lesbians? Why don't you seem to fit in with ANYONE at the bar? AND WHY THE !@#$%^ DID THAT !@#$%^ GIRL FEEL THE NEED TO TAKE YOUR !@#$%^ PICTURE!?!?!?!

The more you think about it, the more ticked off you get. "I'm not a !@#$%^& tourist attraction!" you tell yourself irately. I mean really! Why not take a picture of the drag queens? They're WAY better looking! grrrr the whole thing just makes you ill!

It's not easy being a bisexual transsexual! You're too girly for gay guys or straight girls. You have the wrong equipment for lesbians or straight guys, and you can't seem to find any bi girls or guys who aren't already taken or just messed up in the head. Few of your trans friends are close enough to your age to even be an option, and those who are, aren't really interested. Come to think of it, it's !@#$%^& lonely! :(

You know what though? Given the chance, you'd do it all over again in a heartbeat! ;)

*Hugs*
Maddy