It was so quiet. Even the distant motorway was now just the odd rustle of tyres here and there rather than a long grey noise that would catch the wind. Saturday nights in the garden were usually cars racing off the lights on the carriageway just outside the village echoing through the night every now and then but now, nearly ten pm with the stars trying to cut through the thin misty atmosphere the only thing I can hear, apart from the dull hum of next door’s new lock-down hot tub, is the ringing in my ears. So loud that it was hard to know if anything quiet and distant was making any sort of noise.
I had put out the tea light candles along the edge of the decking early evening knowing that once I’d finished my dinner at my wooden cafe table that the night would descend slowly and as neighbours disappeared inside along with their Alexa music I would need something to glow and make the darkness something inviting. And when even the tea lights were not enough, once twilight had finally given up, I pushed a desk lamp out as far as it would go to light the lawn and cast shadows off the trees at the back. The warm slight hint of yellow in the lamp made the garden feel just a little inviting, much like the private communal garden scene in Notting Hill. It made the night somewhere to be, not somewhere to retreat from.
Scrubbing off last weeks colour off my toe nails, tidying up with clippers and applying a light silvery blue while food oven-cooked slowly over coals I wondered how things might change in a few weeks or months, depending how this all goes. So many people saying, “Things will never be the same.” and “I think people will appreciate the simple things in life, family, friends and leave behind material needs.” I suppose in some ways thing may happen a little though I think some people underestimate the British public and their need for normality, comfort and lacklustre.
But what about me and what about the gender thing? It’s still a thing and while everything is on hold in some way, not updating my wardrobe and not having much in-person contact with people makes it feel hard in some ways to feel. When I think about it, really think about it, it’s hasn’t changed that much and I am experiencing things, it’s not on hold – as such. It’s what I’mthinkingthat is my gender experience at the moment.
Thinking back to old friends I used to know on the gender scene. Reminiscing about some of the fun times we had and the learning process, feeling that utter terror going out for the first time. Adjusting the recipe of how to dress and what should and shouldn’t be worn. Pushing a little further each time and finding out who I am. Travelling ridiculous distances just to experience this gender thing in a safe environment and allowing other people to take all sorts of advantages of your friendship just so they can do these things too. You’ll know what I mean if you been in this situation. People wanting to change at other peoples houses before a night out and getting lifts. Using friendships and every ounce of ‘tether.’ Sounds mundane in just those short words but there are so many silly and funny stories attached to that, not just things I’ve experienced, but other people’s experiences too. We all ‘use’ in some ways to get what we need to experience.
Those things are in the past and I’ve not thought about them for quite a long time. I parked them some times ago so I could move on and in some ways most of those friends parked me and we lost touch. I think it came about because now I have time to think about these things in my past I’ve been able to compare where I was and where I am now. This introspection happens all the time in some form or another every so often and here I find how different things are.
I thought recently how far we, the gender collective if you will, would go just to experience some time in our chosen gender. Whether it was going over to Bristol for a few hours or travelling to London, the other side of the country, just for a few hours out and driving home and getting back at silly hours in the morning. I’ve said it before that it was exciting and so different to anything you could experience socially with a double-life slammed on top that only you and those in your crowd knew about and they like-wise would know very little, if anything, about your life outside of these times – but it wasn’t real.
Like fame there is a difference between the fame thingand real day to day life. With those nights out they were the fictional side where nearly everything was perfect and happy and when it came to normal life things seems so bland. That fictional time would only go sour if something from the real-life stepped in, like being in a pub and someone asking ‘So, are you a man.’ This is where we as the gender identity confused (when we are at that stage) have to decide whether we actually want realor not.
The only way to decide if real is what you want is to try it. It seems bit mad at first to say that when you might think ‘of course I want real, it’s all I’ve ever wanted’ but you really need to experience that day to day trudge of all the mundane things you normally do in life but in that gender you want. Interacting with people in that clothes shop, the supermarket, taking the car for an MOT which is horrific enough in any gender.
I am far from experienced in experiences but I know I’ve moved on from those days of the fame thing. Those safe-place nights out are a separate part of life, they just happen to involve the gender thingbut it’s not completely about gender dysphoria, it’s just an introduction. It’s like a class and being asked to take part in a role play exercise. Some people prefer the exercise and that’s where they are, others – not.
The one thing I will say that is different about day-to-day compared to just Saturday nights. That favourite skirt that hits the washing machine on Sunday and is then stored away until next time – it no longer lasts for years. Wash after wash and the threads start to come out, the colour fades and the debit card comes out once again.
Until next time. Stay safe.