The Dating Pool

I am hopeful every time. I open my app for OK Cupid, hoping for a miracle…every…damn…time. I hope for my saving angel to come to me in the form of a beautiful woman. She would be close by, preferably. She would be intelligent, beautiful and loving. She would make me forget all of the others who hurt me. She would soothe my soul and inspire me, calm my anxiety and love me. She would be a glowing angel, radiating femininity and strength. Just to look at her would make me want to weep for joy.

I have once again ventured into the dating pool. The waters of the pool are murky. I cannot tell what lies beneath them. To wade into the pool again fills me with anxiety, but also hope. Hope, that I may actually find a mate again. I had a couple of mates in my time. One was my ex-wife of 15 years. We met when I was just a budding adult at the young age of 21. I was the first-born and so I was not as mature at 21 as I should have been. My ex-wife was 18. We were two shy, star-crossed lovers who met at work in a grocery store. I was a stock boy and she, a cashier. It was love at first sight.

We courted for 5 years while we finished school. In the summer of 1994, I popped the question. We remained engaged until February of 1996 when we married. I thought it would fix me. It didn’t. We continued on for 9 more years after she discovered that I was…well…how I am. Twenty-one years of my life I spent with her. That is a huge portion of my 46 years on this earth. I don’t see her or hear from her anymore. She would rather think of me as dead. I never told her about my “thing” before she married me and so now…I am dead to her.

I always wonder what would have happened had I told her what I was going to tell her one day while we were dating. We had broken up. We did reconcile two days later, and I was going to come clean. But, my Dad just happened to ask me what was going on. He advised me to not tell her. I suppose he thought my “thing” was just a phase and he feared that I would ruin my chance at love if I revealed my “thing.” He really just wanted the best for his son.

After my divorce in 2011, of course, I transitioned. My “thing” was that I was trans. I never realized the full extent of my “transness” until that point. But, I had lost my GG, my girl…my shining, loving, caring, soft-skinned, cis female. It was a very sad day when I signed those divorce papers. I thought, all of those years, undone with a couple signatures. It makes me ache just to write it.

I met my partner not long after my divorce. I was only single for 4 months. But, really, it had been more like a year. The final year of my marriage was very hard. We were all but separated in the same house. I met my partner, Jess, on July 31, 2011 in Washington DC. I would spend the next 2 and a half years with her.

Jess got me through my early transition. We were inseparable. Those early days in Glen Arm, MD, a suburb of Baltimore, were some of our best and most coveted. Hell, we survived an earthquake, a hurricane, and a flood. Jess introduced me to many, many people, some of whom I still hold dear. They were my original trans sisters. Jess and I ended up moving to South Carolina. I was leery of moving down there, but I really didn’t have much choice or anywhere else to go. I had already moved from my hometown of Pittsburgh after 41 years, what was one more move.

Things never really went well in South Carolina. Life was tough. Eventually, we got kicked out of our apartment by a fellow trans girl, who owned the house. That was difficult. Things just got more strained between Jess and I. We broke up in December 2013. We remained close friends and decided to move to California together.

In September 2014, we left SC on an epic road trip. Only one problem, Jess found love in Denver and decided to stay. That was difficult…for me. However, I had been talking to a girl in Tacoma, WA. I decided that since my trip to Cali was blown, I might as well go up to Tacoma to see if something clicked. I did, and it clicked…or so I thought.

Less than two weeks after I was told, “This is your home now,” I was kicked out of her apartment. It was difficult. I was very upset and scared. I was out on my ass with less than $800, a car, and some stuff in a POD container in Benicia, CA, a suburb of San Francisco, where Jess and I were originally moving to.

I gathered my thoughts as I stayed with some friends in Seattle. That time alone in Seattle seemed to reset and refocus me. I think it was that week, after that trauma of becoming homeless, that set me on the path I am on now. The path that takes care of Me first.

Living in the Bay Area is tough. I am getting used to it though. It has become the new normal. Things are slowing down. I thought I was comfortable enough here to go on a few dates back in the late winter/early spring. They ended up being a disaster, all three. I thought I had enough time under my belt to feel comfortable enough to date. I was wrong. It was horrible timing. It has taken me six months just to get over those devastating blows to my psyche.

They were all trans. I thought, “Hey, they are my trans sistas, what can go wrong?” It went very, very wrong. I never made it past the second date. In fact, both second dates were horrible and ended up making me cry afterward. The other date was just a non-starter. The two trans girls that did actually seem into me, both gave me excellent first dates followed by horrible second ones.

Both of them were post-op. I think that was a real issue. I think they looked at me and saw a pre-op. They made me feel inferior, instead of comfortable. They both turned out to be very cold. They both worked in tech. Both were busy.

During the first date with Ms. Workaholic, I made the unforgivable suggestion that I thought it would be cool if we could all work less and still be able to make a decent living as to be able to have more time to enjoy life. Turns out that Miss Workaholic didn’t like that utopian, hippie-like suggestion. She felt it was so egregious that she cut the second date short and bolted, leaving me to wander the streets of Berkeley crying.

Ms. Biotech, was a little more subtle. We had a wonderful date in San Francisco. It lasted all day. It was the best date I ever had. There was romantic cable car rides, kissing under the shadow of famous Coit Tower, a romantic Italian dinner, hand-holding, drinking, making out, etc. I loved it.

We started talking a bit and planned a second date. Some time passed and I was getting a little excited thinking that things were going very well. But, that was quashed as soon as our second date happened. There seemed to be missing magic on the second date. It turns out that she felt that my OK Cupid photos gave a false impression of me. Basically, she was saying that I looked worse in real life and that I was not as pretty as in my photos. Also, she said she was turned off by the remnants of my beard.

I was not quite sure how to respond to those two things. Those insults, which I took them as, still hurt. It’s taken me a long time to heal from those remarks, especially the “photos not representing the true me” remark. That one was just amazingly hurtful. So many people know me and have met me including my ex partner and the great Lana Moore. They all say very good things about me and about my appearance.

People have suggested that there may have been things going on in their own lives that made them both lash out at me, things that have nothing to do with me. Those two San Francisco meanies really messed me up inside and made me retreat from the dating pool. The pool grew very cold and uninviting so I got the hell out of the water and toweled off. I stayed out for six months.

Now, I cautiously put my toe back into the pool. The waters are once again, murky. I wonder who or what lies under those waters. Will there be more hurt and insults? Will there be another Jess? Will there be another GG under there? Is there anyone in there willing to be cool and not hurt me? Will I ever find anyone again? It’s not guaranteed. Oh…people say that it will happen. But I say…it will never happen, unless it happens. Just because people say it will, does not mean it will. I may go the rest of my life without love.

As I open my app for OK Cupid, I hear the sound of crickets. A tumbleweed blows by. No messages today. A couple of guys who didn’t read my profile check in. I have ”re-transed” my profile by stating that I am trans in the first sentence. I have to have hope. I hope to find my girl, my shining angel, the one who will save me from everlasting loneliness and bring joy to my life as no one else has. I await her with open arms and an open heart. “Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more…”

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Tags: dating, featured, online dating, relationships, Transgender

Category: Transgender Body & Soul