Lorileah
01-22-2012, 01:53 PM
Oranges.
I knew that sometime the Red Brick Road would have a speed bump or a detour. I was prepared for it and it finally happened. Nothing stays rainbows and Unicorns forever.
Going out on Saturday night is becoming a ritual. Here in Colorado I plan according to the weather and this week nature said “get out and have some fun.” I have posted about Wednesday night and the fairytale of that night. The night after I was with many of the same friends who had nothing but compliments and praise for me. I don’t know what cloud I was on but it was close to nine. Maybe 7 or 8.
Saturday was another wonderful day. More March than January. Time to hit the town again. After the preliminary preparation (why does that still take over a hour?), I was ready to get dressed. I had bought a cute little red sweater dress on sale this week. Cowl neck straight waist that I thought would be amenable to a belt to give it a shape. I put it on and I swear I could feel the chill of an early fall all the way up the back. I felt like instead of a dress I had on a cheer sweater. I reached back and it even felt short. Yet when I looked in the full length mirror it was half way between my knees and…uh..the next curve. OK it looked better than it felt so go with it. Earrings next. Dropped one. I squatted down (yes I bent at the knees to pick it up and I knew that the dress was too short. I would have absolutely no secrets and it was a stand up dress and not a sit down dress. No way I was standing in heels for 4 hours. Plan two was another dress I bought a week earlier. Beautiful LBD with one concern. It was rather low cut in the neck. I could work with that. A cami or a sexy bra. I put it on and it was perfect. Yes the neck was low cut but it didn’t show anything. OK now off to the bar.
I was driving and went to adjust the seat belt (safety first and always) and realized that I had…CLEAVAGE! Not just a little but noticeable and blatant cleavage that was my own. I knew I would be asking guys to “Look up, my eyes are up here” all night. I like attention when dressed so I didn’t turn around and go home. I walked to the bar and got a few smiles as I sat down. The guys at the bar at this hour are older and really not interested in anything except swapping stories and drinking happy hour beer. That is good because even though I enjoy the looks I don’t want the hanging on that guys can do. There was line dancing lessons on the dance floor and I thought “How do they remember how to do all that, I can barely remember to walk.
As I was watching and trying get some steps in my head a man walked up and stood in front of me.
“I don’t mean to be rude…” he started. Well this can go two ways I thought; one he was going to remind me that it was a gay bar and that there were regulars who frequented the bar area and that I was in someone’s place, OR he was going to ask if I still had all the parts and was I interested in making him the happiest guy in the world for the next 15 minutes.
“Go ahead, I won’t be insulted.” I told him.
“You look gorgeous, I was wondering if I can ask you something.” I nodded. “Can you educate me?” Now usually this is followed by “Please do my makeup and afterward treat me like the _________I am.” But not this time. He asked if I was a cross dresser. I said yes. He asked if I was transgendered, which in lay terms is code for transsexual and asked if I had all the “parts” (Well I got that part right.). I explained that Transgendered was a larger term for all persons who presented as a gender that they were not born into. That it could include Drag Queens all the way to transsexuals. Then he asked if I was gay (Now in a previous post I mentioned that this doesn’t happen very often.). I told him my label. I was a crossdresser, probably a transsexual who will never get surgery and a bisexual. That seemed to satisfy him and he thanked me and went back to his buddies. I was in no way insulted and hoped I had educated him.
While I was talking to him another man stood behind him. Do you know how you can look at a person and get a “vibe”? If you watch Grimm on TV that is what I saw. This guy’s face turned into a wolf. This was the detour on my journey on the Red Brick Road. The first guy left and within minutes Wolfie came back.
“I don’t mean to be rude…” Oh boy, this time I knew what would follow and I was right. He directed every bad line he could throw at me. What is my sign? Do I like sex? What kind of sex do I like (even though I didn’t even answer the first question). He explained he worked for a Medical Marijuana grower and then told me he could sell some on the side (how I wished I was an undercover cop). And that I could be the man pleaser and that he would love to have me take care of him. OK OK He told my boobs all this. I was getting very uncomfortable with this all and was looking for a way out. Not enough men around to go to and ask them to protect me. I soon found out he had no car, no money (Geez, do I look like a cougar?). Did I smoke and could he get a cigarette (I don’t and no) and could I buy him a drink. My drink was empty so I asked what he would like. Jaeger. I told him he wasn’t worth that. He settled for cinnamon schnapps. I ordered me another and him the shot. His demeanor changed then as I think he could see I wasn’t the easy mark. He asked again what I could do to him to make him happy. I wanted so bad to do a Clint Eastwood imitation and say “I’ll let you walk away with your gonads, would that make you happy?” But I told him instead I didn’t like sex (OK OK There are times that a lie is a good thing). Then he asked what I liked. I said “Girls.” His face dropped. Man if I knew it was that easy I would have told him that 15 minutes earlier. He stood up and said “I’ll be back.” I said “No you won’t and have a good night.” Never did see him again.
Now the crowd was getting larger. And it was 50/50 male and female…average age 35. Boy did I feel old. One young woman (that will become redundant because to this old queen they are all younger) stood next to me, complimented my necklace. Then another came over and complimented my makeup and looks. Another walked by and felt my leg. “You can’t stick that out and not expect someone to touch it.” She told me. Wow, I must have entered a magical world where women liked CD’s.
Back to the oranges. I am an orange in case you didn’t know. I didn’t know it until last night. The reason I had so much interaction was because I was sitting at the bar and there is no table service so you had to get your own drinks and no one was sitting by the guy in a dress. A woman was waiting her turn at the bar. She was very pretty with long straight brunette hair. She looked at my chest and said “You have more cleavage than I do”. I thanked her (should you say thank you to that?) and told her it was half real. “Doesn’t matter you have more than I do and I am jealous.” I wanted to be 20 years younger. She made my heart flutter, she was pretty, she was young, she was friendly and she was accepting. She introduced herself and I told her my name. She got her drink and offered a raised glass. Then she was gone.
A few minutes later she was standing in front of me again “I don’t mean to be rude…” Hmm there is a theme here tonight. “…but you are gorgeous (I am “gorgeous”, never beautiful or sexy…I think that is a good thing). Can I ask how old you are?” I told her 55. She looked shocked. “You look 30. I am 34, I hope I look as good as you do.” I assured her she looked much better. She offered to buy me a drink. I declined as I was driving. She left the offer open and wandered off. A few minutes later she was back (and now the moron in me kicks in…duh, why does that happen later when you replay the event in your mind?). Where do I live? She lives within walking distance, she thinks I am a brave person. Then she tells me the orange story. About how a refugee from a Nazi prison camp found an orange and kept it because it was the only color in a black and white world where the sky was grey, the snow was white, the mood was black. How he kept that orange and every night smelled it so that he could know that the world wasn’t just what he saw. How he saved the orange and when his compatriots and him were in an explosion and survived, he shared the orange with them. Then years later while the man was riding a bus he saw a young boy and offered him an orange so the little boy knew that there was good in the world.
I let her buy me a drink then and we toasted difference. She told me I was a bright spot in the world. I was brave. The world needed more people like me who were who they were. She asked if I would be back and I assured her I would. Then she was off with her friends. I finished the drink and was getting tired (no I am not 30 anymore after all, I am an old geezer) so I drove home. It had been an educating evening for me. I educated a person in transgenderism, I was educated in how women get hit on by jerks, and I learned that there are wonderful, caring and accepting people still out there. I also learned I wish I was younger again. I hope I meet Jen again.
What I learned the most was “I am an orange”. Something colorful in an otherwise drab world.
I knew that sometime the Red Brick Road would have a speed bump or a detour. I was prepared for it and it finally happened. Nothing stays rainbows and Unicorns forever.
Going out on Saturday night is becoming a ritual. Here in Colorado I plan according to the weather and this week nature said “get out and have some fun.” I have posted about Wednesday night and the fairytale of that night. The night after I was with many of the same friends who had nothing but compliments and praise for me. I don’t know what cloud I was on but it was close to nine. Maybe 7 or 8.
Saturday was another wonderful day. More March than January. Time to hit the town again. After the preliminary preparation (why does that still take over a hour?), I was ready to get dressed. I had bought a cute little red sweater dress on sale this week. Cowl neck straight waist that I thought would be amenable to a belt to give it a shape. I put it on and I swear I could feel the chill of an early fall all the way up the back. I felt like instead of a dress I had on a cheer sweater. I reached back and it even felt short. Yet when I looked in the full length mirror it was half way between my knees and…uh..the next curve. OK it looked better than it felt so go with it. Earrings next. Dropped one. I squatted down (yes I bent at the knees to pick it up and I knew that the dress was too short. I would have absolutely no secrets and it was a stand up dress and not a sit down dress. No way I was standing in heels for 4 hours. Plan two was another dress I bought a week earlier. Beautiful LBD with one concern. It was rather low cut in the neck. I could work with that. A cami or a sexy bra. I put it on and it was perfect. Yes the neck was low cut but it didn’t show anything. OK now off to the bar.
I was driving and went to adjust the seat belt (safety first and always) and realized that I had…CLEAVAGE! Not just a little but noticeable and blatant cleavage that was my own. I knew I would be asking guys to “Look up, my eyes are up here” all night. I like attention when dressed so I didn’t turn around and go home. I walked to the bar and got a few smiles as I sat down. The guys at the bar at this hour are older and really not interested in anything except swapping stories and drinking happy hour beer. That is good because even though I enjoy the looks I don’t want the hanging on that guys can do. There was line dancing lessons on the dance floor and I thought “How do they remember how to do all that, I can barely remember to walk.
As I was watching and trying get some steps in my head a man walked up and stood in front of me.
“I don’t mean to be rude…” he started. Well this can go two ways I thought; one he was going to remind me that it was a gay bar and that there were regulars who frequented the bar area and that I was in someone’s place, OR he was going to ask if I still had all the parts and was I interested in making him the happiest guy in the world for the next 15 minutes.
“Go ahead, I won’t be insulted.” I told him.
“You look gorgeous, I was wondering if I can ask you something.” I nodded. “Can you educate me?” Now usually this is followed by “Please do my makeup and afterward treat me like the _________I am.” But not this time. He asked if I was a cross dresser. I said yes. He asked if I was transgendered, which in lay terms is code for transsexual and asked if I had all the “parts” (Well I got that part right.). I explained that Transgendered was a larger term for all persons who presented as a gender that they were not born into. That it could include Drag Queens all the way to transsexuals. Then he asked if I was gay (Now in a previous post I mentioned that this doesn’t happen very often.). I told him my label. I was a crossdresser, probably a transsexual who will never get surgery and a bisexual. That seemed to satisfy him and he thanked me and went back to his buddies. I was in no way insulted and hoped I had educated him.
While I was talking to him another man stood behind him. Do you know how you can look at a person and get a “vibe”? If you watch Grimm on TV that is what I saw. This guy’s face turned into a wolf. This was the detour on my journey on the Red Brick Road. The first guy left and within minutes Wolfie came back.
“I don’t mean to be rude…” Oh boy, this time I knew what would follow and I was right. He directed every bad line he could throw at me. What is my sign? Do I like sex? What kind of sex do I like (even though I didn’t even answer the first question). He explained he worked for a Medical Marijuana grower and then told me he could sell some on the side (how I wished I was an undercover cop). And that I could be the man pleaser and that he would love to have me take care of him. OK OK He told my boobs all this. I was getting very uncomfortable with this all and was looking for a way out. Not enough men around to go to and ask them to protect me. I soon found out he had no car, no money (Geez, do I look like a cougar?). Did I smoke and could he get a cigarette (I don’t and no) and could I buy him a drink. My drink was empty so I asked what he would like. Jaeger. I told him he wasn’t worth that. He settled for cinnamon schnapps. I ordered me another and him the shot. His demeanor changed then as I think he could see I wasn’t the easy mark. He asked again what I could do to him to make him happy. I wanted so bad to do a Clint Eastwood imitation and say “I’ll let you walk away with your gonads, would that make you happy?” But I told him instead I didn’t like sex (OK OK There are times that a lie is a good thing). Then he asked what I liked. I said “Girls.” His face dropped. Man if I knew it was that easy I would have told him that 15 minutes earlier. He stood up and said “I’ll be back.” I said “No you won’t and have a good night.” Never did see him again.
Now the crowd was getting larger. And it was 50/50 male and female…average age 35. Boy did I feel old. One young woman (that will become redundant because to this old queen they are all younger) stood next to me, complimented my necklace. Then another came over and complimented my makeup and looks. Another walked by and felt my leg. “You can’t stick that out and not expect someone to touch it.” She told me. Wow, I must have entered a magical world where women liked CD’s.
Back to the oranges. I am an orange in case you didn’t know. I didn’t know it until last night. The reason I had so much interaction was because I was sitting at the bar and there is no table service so you had to get your own drinks and no one was sitting by the guy in a dress. A woman was waiting her turn at the bar. She was very pretty with long straight brunette hair. She looked at my chest and said “You have more cleavage than I do”. I thanked her (should you say thank you to that?) and told her it was half real. “Doesn’t matter you have more than I do and I am jealous.” I wanted to be 20 years younger. She made my heart flutter, she was pretty, she was young, she was friendly and she was accepting. She introduced herself and I told her my name. She got her drink and offered a raised glass. Then she was gone.
A few minutes later she was standing in front of me again “I don’t mean to be rude…” Hmm there is a theme here tonight. “…but you are gorgeous (I am “gorgeous”, never beautiful or sexy…I think that is a good thing). Can I ask how old you are?” I told her 55. She looked shocked. “You look 30. I am 34, I hope I look as good as you do.” I assured her she looked much better. She offered to buy me a drink. I declined as I was driving. She left the offer open and wandered off. A few minutes later she was back (and now the moron in me kicks in…duh, why does that happen later when you replay the event in your mind?). Where do I live? She lives within walking distance, she thinks I am a brave person. Then she tells me the orange story. About how a refugee from a Nazi prison camp found an orange and kept it because it was the only color in a black and white world where the sky was grey, the snow was white, the mood was black. How he kept that orange and every night smelled it so that he could know that the world wasn’t just what he saw. How he saved the orange and when his compatriots and him were in an explosion and survived, he shared the orange with them. Then years later while the man was riding a bus he saw a young boy and offered him an orange so the little boy knew that there was good in the world.
I let her buy me a drink then and we toasted difference. She told me I was a bright spot in the world. I was brave. The world needed more people like me who were who they were. She asked if I would be back and I assured her I would. Then she was off with her friends. I finished the drink and was getting tired (no I am not 30 anymore after all, I am an old geezer) so I drove home. It had been an educating evening for me. I educated a person in transgenderism, I was educated in how women get hit on by jerks, and I learned that there are wonderful, caring and accepting people still out there. I also learned I wish I was younger again. I hope I meet Jen again.
What I learned the most was “I am an orange”. Something colorful in an otherwise drab world.