Two Drink Minimum

Forgive me if I’ve seemed distracted lately. You see, I’ve been distracted lately. I moved. And we all know what a pain that is… especially when one has two wardrobes.

I moved from the suburbs to beautiful downtown Cincinnati. (Stop snickering. It’s really quite lovely.)

I chose a location that was within walking distance of the public library and one of my favorite gay bars. (See LadyLike #70 ) The only drawback is it’s a high-rise. With a security guard at the front door.

Now, I’m all for security. I like feeling safe. But, there’s no back door out of this place. So, if I am to go out, I have to pass by the doorman. And that’s no big deal if you’re full-time, or otherwise out.

But I’m not. I’m still somewhat closeted. Oh, I go out, almost exclusively to GLBT-friendly establishments though. My experiences with the straight world are limited to Halloween night, (which hardly counts), and the time spent in between my front door and the front door of whatever trans-friendly bar I hole up in.

So, if I’m going to go out from here, dressed, I’m gonna have to get over my fear of being seen by someone who is not in the “community”, right? And I figure a two-drink minimum is just enough liquid courage to do the job. It worked last Thursday night anyway.

The doorman stared, but said nothing. I just smiled, tried to look confident, and kept going. And the two block hike to the bar wasn’t too bad. Only had one homeless guy call out “Sir? Sir?” to me.

Coming back in was different. I was three-sheets to the wind, (good thing I was walking!) and the same guard was distracted by another drunk girl, so I slipped back in without any hassle.

But, more importantly, I’ve found inspiration. In my parking garage, there’s a car with a license plate that makes reference to being TG. (I won’t print it exactly for her privacy, but it essentially says “T-girl”.) I haven’t met her, but today, as I was coming home from the grocery store, I got a clue that she lives on my floor.

My hands were full of grocery bags as I opened my door, but I heard movement down the hall behind me, and saw one of “our people” walking toward the elevator. I couldn’t stop to talk, because, well, my hands were full, and my cat always tries to get out. And I’m a strong advocate of not approaching other t-girls in public. And I’m not the most sociable of people to begin with.

But, I’m not the only one in the building. Which is heartening. More details as they develop.

Category: Transgender Fun & Entertainment