Establishing out -of -drag relationships can be
tough when he met you in heels and a wig.

i know the feeling rose. some men won't go home with me in my drag, some love it, some want to wear it. most do wear some sort of drag when they are here. what's that all about. how many times have these men asked if i can go shopping for them and make the pretty? i don't like waking up in the morning with a half unglued rubber eyebrow and a wig cap on. oh shit, what hair did i have on last night? you see i sleep with all my wigs. they comfort me and it's easier that dragging them behind a taxi for a week before i can where them.

of the guys have other lives and this is shame based behavior for them that they do just for the fantasy value. That doesn't leave
me with much except to go on to the next. I guess I shouldn't complain - there's something to be said for a good schtoop with a stranger but sometimes a girl wants more.

I've given out my number countless times to promising candidates, have gotten a handful of replies, and maybe four or five 'keepers' (like
the Fosters' commercial, right?), who have been
sooooo nice on dates. The trouble I find with a
lot of people is that, yes, they are really out
for instant gratification; if they don't get
anything that night, they don't call. Girlfriend
is not for free. Tell me a good story, at least.
I think a lot of these chasers have wives or
girlfriends and shouldn't be trying to enter into
extra.....relations. This is why I try not to be
too loose - weeds out the transients in my life.
I pretty much live full - time, though I do tone
it down a bit for work. There is a difference
between day wear and evening wear. I've been on
dates after work, just go a little more dramatic
on makeup, the clothes work either way. The point
is, we are running into the same thing GGs' are
experiencing and that is finding honest and real
people. For me the morning after has been O/K;
it's a matter of being selective about the people
you go out with

[This message was edited by Tracee on 03-24-01 at 08:50 PM.

[This message was edited by Tracee on 03-24-01 at 08:51 PM.]

I had just come from seeing Justin and Kenny's final Friday of "Fire" (she's a very sick woman), and had stopped by True where I ran into friends. Last stop was the Cock where I saw Irene and picked up the weekly fag rags.
I was dressed in a handsome vintage dress-nothing provocative-high neckline, hem just above the knee, and opaque fabric. I wasn't looking for anything or anyone and was satisfied to go home feeling like I had a good evening.
Walking along Thompkins Park west someone came up to me and said "hi". I returned the greeting and turned around to see what I percieved as a neighborhood type boy dressed kinda gangsta style with baggy peddle pusher length trousers and a baseball cap turned to one side. He had a fair complexion, and his very short hair was on the blondish side. I couldn't imagine what he wanted except perhaps to rob me. Then he asked if I would to go into the park to fool around. Being frightened and aprehensive I said "no". He insisted and placed his sensuous mouth on mine and thrust his warm moist tounge down my throat. Well I must have excreted all my pleasure enzymes and realized that I'd like very much to be having this afterall. He told me he was from Poland, was 22 years old, worked in construction and went to school. This explained his accent which when combined with his lustful tones sounded very strange and suspicious. He insisted on the park again and I said that I couldn't climb over the fence with pantyhose, but agreed to walk to an alternative well trafficked and lit location. I thought the walk would give me time to evaluate him. Well he took my hand and we were walking down the street hand in hand. He didn't seem at all disturbed by people clocking us and at some point put his hand under my dress and appeared to be totally accustomed to my kind of plumbing. I gave him a feel and a squeeze or two and decided that everything was in place and very nice indeed. At this point he had gained my confidence and had fully awakened my yearnings so I asked him home. He insisted on paying for the cab which impressed me and made me feel even more confident about him but when I closed my door behind us I still had that heart pounding thought - OK, here comes the robbery part. It never came. Instead there was serious ass grabbing and crotch rubbing.
"Where's the bed?" As soon as the dress was off and the gangsta garb was in a pile on the floor he asked in his broken Eastern European accent, "You got hair for me?". All the peices fit and I could handle this. It made perfect sense. I immediately got him a short blonde cut, and seeing what a pretty girl he was, turned to instant lesbian mode. He also insisted on some lingerie and pantyhose and requested that I change my wig which I did and also put on a slip. After all the dress-up or dress-off rather, was orchestrated to his satisfaction, I was told to have my way with him which I did until we both got our jollies. Go figure?
He wanted to stay over but I thought of Harvey Firestien's line, "A thing of beauty is a joy till daylight." I also knew that this was the chaser with a fantasy who would go back to his "real" life and wasn't really interested in who I am. There were piles of wigs and drag droppings all over that I was anxious to clean up in privacy. My smeared make-up belied the perfection of my fantasy, as well. Cross-dressing fetish stuff isn't really my thing but it was fun nevertheless.
The next day I used this story to make my main squeeze jealous and was amused that he conceeded "a little" jealousy.
The lesson? I know Sweetie and Randella have given us many pointers on this subject from their vast treasure droves of experience but here's one we hadn't covered--girls, unless you want to eat your own wig, for God's sake wear a short wig to bed!

[This message was edited by Rose Royalle on 07-30-01 at 09:14 AM.]

Rose, sometimes the surprise experiences are the best as your vignette deftly illustrates. And those Eastern European boys can be quite a tasty treat!

The whole issue with the wiggage though remains a mystery. I have experienced a wide spectrum of scenarios with/without the wig, and it can be really hard to predict the reaction of the chaser. Some want it on all the time (thus, in their minds then we are still girls), on more rare occaisons- others have pulled it off and not blinked twice, and then of course, there are those who lose their hard-ons as soon as the transformation from glam gal to fey boy with make-up on, and end up making a quick departure, and then attempt to blot out their own shame. Taking the wig off puts the reality of what they are doing right there on the table. It all goes back to how comfortable the boy is with his own sexual persona. Obviously, your boy was very comfortable in the moment.

The fact though remains that as special girls- wig on or off, we remain a specialty item. A delicacy- like caviar- a different taste, but delicious in small amounts, but not as steady fare. It is the rare breed who can deal with all the issues involving gender anomalies such as ourselves.

Regardless though, you had a delicious moment- savor it, until the next one...

my darling rose,
i'm surprised to read of your friday night walk home. at first as you were saying (thug) i thought of robbery too, but at the same time it was getting me excited. we love the danger or the idea of it.
i know i would have jumped the fence in pantyhose.
i'm happy to hear everything went well and there was no trouble.
what color hose did he wear?

i love the short wig idea too. why haven't i thought of just switching hair before?
sounds like you are the lucky bitch of the week!

Rose,
What a way to start the day. What a story! You are truly a woman of mystery.

I went to Papi cock, an decided there were too many butch queens there for me so I went to True as well, hubg out here and ran into Rose and Mother Flawless, an I pretty much left about an hour later. As I always do when I leave True I go to the deli up the street and get my fav sandwhich, the guy behind the counter always flirts with me, and he was as usal then some others came in and he stopped. I was walking out an was being eyed by this guy in there, me being the flirt I am said hey good night.. next thi g you know like a puppy dog, he was following me home arm around me and all. so I was like do you wanna come up? so he did, I wonder if security noticed the bulge in his pants, well he whipped it out in the elevator,, I was like 2 mind an we ran down the hall to my apt. the then dove for the kittens, and within afew minutes was in full frolic, he then ju,ped up and said I will be right back.. I was like wha?? did you get off? he said yeah seeya later. now I havent been wearing my gilda out , cause its a bit uncomfortable, but I have been wearing a wiglet. well when we got home neither seemed to matter..

An interesting take on the whole issue, Randella. I would certainly classify you as caviar, darling, an expensive delicacy for those diners with highly-developed, sophisticated palates! And while I agree for many people it might be fetish or a specialty item, I wouldn't say you couldn't be somebody's steady fare. In fact, I've met a number of special girls that have extremely loyal, dedicated and good-looking boyfriends. It's all about niche marketing. The task is finding the consumer that prefers mint-chip ice cream over vanilla or chocolate and talking to him.

I find these identity/image issues fascinating and mysterious. On the few occasions that I've done full drag, I noted the strange mixture of aggressive lust, arousal and/or rage it seemed to bring out in "heterosexual" men. It was hard to tell if they wanted to have wild sex or beat me up and it was fine line between the two. However, I have found that even the gender-bending androgyny drag I normally serve automatically eliminates me as a possible boyfriend or sex buddy candidate for a large portion of the gay male population. It seems to confuse many people, since I'm not serving the full illusion of womanhood but clearly crossing the boundries of traditional masculine imagery, even beyond where the average gay man will go. But here, too, it's all about finding your niche: of late I seem to be encountering both men and women who go in for that glam rock/Studio 54/Rocky Horror Picture show thing. Whatever!

I agree with you Lex, I find this topic so fascinating. I guess for me though, sometimes it is easier to just accept being that desired specialty item than go through the emotional ups & downs that involve relationships (though to be fair, when it is good, it is wondrous & wonderful). However, I'm not saying I don't want something more than just a few hot moments in a bathroom or to put a wig on for one of my old friends to stop by for a brief liaison. My last boyfriend put is so well, when he told me- "you are an uncoventional person, looking for a conventional relationship." That said, the odds are not in our favor in the traditional gay community overall, as you pointed out yourself. However, I am the most comfortable with myself as I am now, and who I have become- more so than I ever have been. Rose asked my once how I would define myself on that gender spectrum- well, technically I am a transvestite b/c I wear women's clothes, but not for sexual thrills. I am not really a drag queen though technically you could say this about me as well- because there is a touch of performance in there and that craving of attention, adulation, and admiration. Moreover, I am not a typical transexual either b/c I don't want to be a fulltime woman, nor do I feel as if I am in the wrong body. So where does that put me? The term transgendered works, but somehow that just doesn't seem to fit. Gender anomaly- but that is so academic or clinical sounding, so I use the term special girl (a far less threatening and palatable term for chasers) and girlyboy works well (Hedwig used this term to describe himself, and it works too).

I recently shared a story with Abby while sitting on the Kitsch-Inn couch several weeks ago, and she had an interesting spin on it. When I was 11, we (the neighborhood kids in our cul-de-sac) were outside one summer Sunday eve playing kick-the-can, and I looked at my watch, and said "it's 7:30p, and I have to go watch Cher" (it was her short lived solo variety show), and this was not recieved well since I was abandoning the game, and Richard Pritchard (can't forget a nombre like that) called out and said "you're a birl- boy's body, girl's mind". I went in watched the show anyway. Well, he was right, but I used to think of it as one of various episodes of childhood trauma. However, Abby said how insightful it was of him to see this in me then- it just took me 20+ years (and a good therapist) to get to a point being comfortable being that.

I am glad that Hedwig is well on the way to becoming a mainstream cinematic hit, because it makes it easier for the masses to understand that such gender variations exist beyond the standard boy/girl, straight/gay definitions for the vast majority in our society.

I love the term Gender Anomely, so Star Trek! "Beam me up, Scotty!" "where's my dermal regenerator??"

But I agree Special Girl is the term to use, particularly with the trannie chasers, and so apt for your Jennifer Aniston-meets-Monica Lewinsky effect. Oops - have to run ... more later.

The pantyhose were Nude Danskin Shimmery Tights and.....he knew exactly where to put the ladymeat (a hole in the crotch). This clued me to the fact that this child had done this sort of thing before. Poland - who knew?
BTW-he left a sweaty undershirt-anyone want a whiff before I do the laundry? Should we meet for dinner,Mike, it would be a good condiment for lamb.

rose,
i am laughing so hard i almost fell out of my chair. seriously don't you hate when they rip a hole in a new pair of hose. well not while it's happenong but after they leave i hate it.
we always have to buy the props for these sex slaves.
btw, i don't like lamb, do you think it might work well with Alu phul gobhi paneer sabji?
save it in a zip lock bag.
see you soon.
m

damn Rose - that was a hot story. those are the kinds of memories that can keep you going for years - I should know, I still think about this homeless guy I had in Boston back in '93!

Unfortunately, I turned down so many guys back in the day because the mechanics of my drag seemed impossible navigate -wig, hose, heels - I would just think ahead to having a long bath - alone and going to bed uncomplicated - and that would end most possible liasons before they even began! I was a weird queen.

There was this one guy though. I was hanging at this bar in SF called Cracktails, no, wait -- Cocktails. It was open from Thursday until Tuesday (imagine!) and had a biker/queen/neighborhood outlaw feel to it. Well, I found myself there late one night (5am?) in full makeup wearing one of my seasonal outfits - a blue speed-skating uniform and combat boots. This tall, lanky, handsome guy - Jim - was playing pool and grinning at me. He asked me if I wanted to go for a ride in his new sports car, telling me he was into fetish shoes and that I looked like the person to help him find the right pair. Suspiciously, I said I'd show him where, but he'd have to buy me a pair too. So we drove around for a few hours -- hitting most of the major SF tourist spots around the bay - glamour!) until the stores opened, aided by a mysterious yellow powder (speed?) he produced from his wallet. He ended up buying himself a pair of red ankle high stilettos and a set of white thigh-highs for me - yummy. We proceeded to his apartment @ noon where he asked me if I was "into" doing a scene with him. I think I told him I really wasnt into being his "girl", and that lingere really didnt turn me on that much. I was sort of "done" at this point (it was 1pm!), but I modelled my shoes for him while he did more drugs and jacked on the biggest cock I'd seen on a living human being fore or since. What was nice about this story (besides the show) was that even though we were really toasted and coming from completely difference places, we found a way to enjoy each other's company. When I saw him a few months later, he had a girlfriend (very slutty looking, blond), and he seemed happy.

I have a new doorman who has been at my building for about 2 weeks now. I passed by him Sat nite as I off my nocturnal adventures in full gear. This past Sunday as I came in the lobby and said hello to him, he said "it was you last night, wasn't it?" I told him "it sure was." He then replied "it was nice." I thanked him and headed into the elevator. Last night when I came into the building and the lobby was empty, he decided to chat me up more. He asked why I didn't dress up all the time. I told him it was just for fun and entertainment. He said he had asked the night doorman about who I was, and he had told him it was my "twin sister." I laughed and told him I don't have a twin sister, and my sister lives on Long Island and doesn't even look like me. Naively he said he had only seen girls like me in shows and on tv. Then the inane questions started "isn't it hard to walk in heels?" "how long have you done that?" etc etc. After answering politely, I extricated myself from the conversation and headed to the elevator. He is not cute nor my flavor.

On my way up, I just giggled to myself thinking about what the night doorman thought of my twin sister. Whore? Drunk? Since he saw me stumbling in at the wee hours, and also the various trade brought back from my nocturnal haunts, and those nights with no trade when a bag of chips had to suffice for my oral gratification, and so on.

To make this an even more surreal evening, I ended up agreeing to remove Amanda & Sofia's stitches from their recent trip to Mexico. Amanda arrived in a leopard head scarf (so tran-surgy AND with matching leopard purse and high heel boots!!), and then Sofia came and she told us how the doorman was chatting her up "blah blah blah" and she had to cut him off to come up here. I only wish I could have seen his face when each arrived, stitches and all. Sharon Peters came over a bit later with an econo-size bottle of wine in hand, as we had planned to have chitty chat. In full-on boy mode, Sharon was asked (or should I say at this point interrogated) "why aren't you dressed?" by my inquisitive doorman.

The best line of the evening came as they were leaving (after Amanda had returned the favor and tweezed my brows just truly lovely) and Amanda said, "a transsexual's life is never done" as she rewrapped her leopard head scarf around her 12 day old incisions.

randy,
thank you for doing that for the girls, i felt like i was asking to much of you.
you are a great gal. love the twin sister story.
btw. do you think the doorman would be my type?

He be more your type than mine...he is Puerto Rican and to me, a fey version of your ex Henry.

Better late than never: Loved the doorman story above!
Girlfriend, you are living it!

Also Rose's and Jade's.
They are also, of course, LIVING IT!
(You too, Mikey)