MissConstrued
05-29-2009, 04:53 AM
Sit back, lads, ladettes, and those of you yet to make up your minds... strap yourselves in and hearken to my tale....
After a torture session with the epilator this afternoon, an evening out seemed deserved. I thumbed (text-messaged for you of the analog generations) a friend of mine, and inquired as to whether there might be a gathering somewhere for the evening. Nothing much, really, but we did agree to meet up at a dive we frequent. So, a slapdashing of some makeup, post-shower; little black top, JEANS (hear that, you know who?), heels... on with the artificial blond tresses, and out the door I went.
The dive was about dead, since there's no longer a karaoke show there Thursday nights, but a near-brawl involving some gang-bangers provided some brief entertainment until the fuzz arrived. Soon another friend thumbed us with the heads-up on another nearby pub with karaoke, so off we went. Some place called "Frontier" something or another. The name does not bode well for a tranny, perhaps... but it's in a rougher part of town... there can't be too many rednecks, right? It smacks of "Dew Drop Inn." Maybe bikers. (This is Lakewood, for you locals.)
So, my pal and I ordered drinks, and headed back outside for a smoke. Mid-cigarette, he got called back in to sing, leaving me out front with the other social outcasts. Now mind, this is unfamiliar turf for me, and maybe it showed a bit. A gal sitting nearby piped up, admiring my shoes, so I chatted with her a bit.
Presently, a [-]gentleman[/-] dude walked over and said, "I've never met a female as tall as you."
I looked at him, flicked my smoke into the appropriate receptacle, and growled in reply, "You still haven't," whereupon he took a rather sudden step back with a "Whoa, goddamn!" I headed back inside. The gal I was chatting with walked in alongside, smiled broadly at me, and said, "serves him right for being nosy!" It was truly one of those Kodak moments. Or cellphone camera moments. Whatever.
Soon some other friends arrived, and we all sat yakking, singing, drinking, &etc. At some point, however, I have to visit the ladies', and this is where my tale gets interesting.
I finished my business, touched up my makeup, and almost got out the door unnoticed. Almost. This is a bar, after all, and the beer recycling facility never stays empty for long. In walked the lady I'd talked with out front, with a friend.
(Ya know, this might be a dead giveaway for cross-dressers. Ever seen a woman go to the loo alone?)
Anyway, it was then and there that we made formal introductions. My new friend -- I'll call her "F" -- loved my response to "that asshole" out front. I introduced myself by my real name, as is my wont, but no! That just wouldn't do! "You need a girl name!" So I told the two of them to think of something. After finally leaving the restroom after a long conversation (if you're wondering why females take so long...), F proceeded to introduce me to the bouncers and the bartenders. F, turns out, is a well known regular. I've just made friends with the big boss in Little Italy, so to speak. "You'll have no trouble as long as I'm here...."
So they and the barkeeps did come up with some names. I'll not relate them, as they're silly (though I suppose one of them will stick), but suffice it to say, I quickly made some new friends and relaxed. F, and the lovely bartenders (one of whom made it a point to make sure I understood she's there every Thursday), insisted I return. We'll see. Then went home. Finis.
Should there be a moral to this story? People are people, most anywhere you go. Be friendly, and they will be too. Not much of a moral, is it? I just can't believe, looking back, that I let my own fears hold me back in the closet for so long.
After a torture session with the epilator this afternoon, an evening out seemed deserved. I thumbed (text-messaged for you of the analog generations) a friend of mine, and inquired as to whether there might be a gathering somewhere for the evening. Nothing much, really, but we did agree to meet up at a dive we frequent. So, a slapdashing of some makeup, post-shower; little black top, JEANS (hear that, you know who?), heels... on with the artificial blond tresses, and out the door I went.
The dive was about dead, since there's no longer a karaoke show there Thursday nights, but a near-brawl involving some gang-bangers provided some brief entertainment until the fuzz arrived. Soon another friend thumbed us with the heads-up on another nearby pub with karaoke, so off we went. Some place called "Frontier" something or another. The name does not bode well for a tranny, perhaps... but it's in a rougher part of town... there can't be too many rednecks, right? It smacks of "Dew Drop Inn." Maybe bikers. (This is Lakewood, for you locals.)
So, my pal and I ordered drinks, and headed back outside for a smoke. Mid-cigarette, he got called back in to sing, leaving me out front with the other social outcasts. Now mind, this is unfamiliar turf for me, and maybe it showed a bit. A gal sitting nearby piped up, admiring my shoes, so I chatted with her a bit.
Presently, a [-]gentleman[/-] dude walked over and said, "I've never met a female as tall as you."
I looked at him, flicked my smoke into the appropriate receptacle, and growled in reply, "You still haven't," whereupon he took a rather sudden step back with a "Whoa, goddamn!" I headed back inside. The gal I was chatting with walked in alongside, smiled broadly at me, and said, "serves him right for being nosy!" It was truly one of those Kodak moments. Or cellphone camera moments. Whatever.
Soon some other friends arrived, and we all sat yakking, singing, drinking, &etc. At some point, however, I have to visit the ladies', and this is where my tale gets interesting.
I finished my business, touched up my makeup, and almost got out the door unnoticed. Almost. This is a bar, after all, and the beer recycling facility never stays empty for long. In walked the lady I'd talked with out front, with a friend.
(Ya know, this might be a dead giveaway for cross-dressers. Ever seen a woman go to the loo alone?)
Anyway, it was then and there that we made formal introductions. My new friend -- I'll call her "F" -- loved my response to "that asshole" out front. I introduced myself by my real name, as is my wont, but no! That just wouldn't do! "You need a girl name!" So I told the two of them to think of something. After finally leaving the restroom after a long conversation (if you're wondering why females take so long...), F proceeded to introduce me to the bouncers and the bartenders. F, turns out, is a well known regular. I've just made friends with the big boss in Little Italy, so to speak. "You'll have no trouble as long as I'm here...."
So they and the barkeeps did come up with some names. I'll not relate them, as they're silly (though I suppose one of them will stick), but suffice it to say, I quickly made some new friends and relaxed. F, and the lovely bartenders (one of whom made it a point to make sure I understood she's there every Thursday), insisted I return. We'll see. Then went home. Finis.
Should there be a moral to this story? People are people, most anywhere you go. Be friendly, and they will be too. Not much of a moral, is it? I just can't believe, looking back, that I let my own fears hold me back in the closet for so long.