April 10, 2014
I worked all day yesterday and last night until close. I went outside for a break to have a butt and I saw a transgendered standing across the street waiting for a bus. Two guys walked by and scoffed, laughed, and once they were about ten feet away, they shouted, “Freak!”
That pissed me off. I’m really opposed to discrimination of any kind. Well, except for scumbags who hurt children or animals. I openly discriminate against them and support the ostracization and scrutiny of them. Anyway, I started to cross the street towards them, and yelled, “Hey!” They stopped and turned. I said, “what did you just fucking say?”
“Chill out, dude, we weren’t talking to you.”
I said, no shit, and called them assholes and said they’d better apologize to her or once I beat them to their knees they’ll have to apologize to the both of us. They ran before I finished crossing the street. I guess I made my point.
I turned back around to go stand outside the bookstore and lit another cigarette, since I tossed the other one, was almost done smoking it anyway. Once I returned to my post, I saw the transgendered slowly making her way across the street towards me. She was walking real slow like she wanted to ensure I saw her in order to give me time to tell her to go away. That’s just the sense I got by her pace and stride and how she was looking at me the entire time. I didn’t so she made it over by me and said, “a cowboy.” I was wearing my Eastwood and Stepping Wolves.
“Sure am little lady.”
She laughed because she was probably about my height of 5’10” but in heels towered over me at about 6’2″.
She thanked me and asked why I did that. I just said, “I hate that shit. People fucking suck sometimes.”
“You should watch your language around a lady you know.”
I tipped my hat, “pardon me ma’am.”
“Is that your name?” She pointed to my name tag.
“You’re strange and peculiar.”
“You’re not so ordinary yourself.”
“No I’m not. My name’s Nicky, but my friends call me Nicole. You can call me anytime, but be sure to address me as Nicole.”
Then a bus stopped across the street let two people off and drove away.
“You missed your bus.”
“Oops. …You’re not gay, Wall Grimm, I can tell.”
“I’m not either. I like men.”
“So you’re all woman then, huh?”
“Well, as much as I can be, but that’s beneath the surface.”
Then she told me that contrary to misconceptions, transgendereds aren’t all gay. Some dress up as women, or just wear women’s lingerie, but still like women. She said most prefer to be referred as “she” when dressed as a woman, “he” is ok when they’re in men’s clothes, but “it” is never cool, and “he” is forgiven when a person doesn’t know any better.
I told her I had to get back in to work so she decided to come in and browse. She disappeared for a while and then came over to me to show me a book. She asked what I was doing. I told her I was cleaning the check out area. She said, “that’s good you like to keep your area to check out clean.”
I fucking love innuendo, no matter where it comes from, and the diverse places in dialogue where it can be found.
The book she had was about reincarnation. We talked about Edgar Cayce and how we agreed that reincarnation in his view was similar to Buddhist philosophy and even could be compared to purgatory as well as the veils of death in Ancient Egyptian beliefs. There’s a lot of congruency with all religions. Basically living again and again and evolving as a spirit until you reach a heightened existence when the soul can finally pass on. Then she told me that she believed transgendereds were the heightened existence, because there’s a lot of shit you have to deal with and confront and learn from and overcome. You have to be confident and brave and accepting of yourself enough to pull it off with dignity. I thought that was awesome.
We talked a lot and at one point we were skimming through a dictionary looking up funny words. These were our favorites:
Pilgarlic – a bald person, a person with a bald head that resembles a peeled garlic clove
Corybungus – a person’s bottom, or the rear of anything that’s alive.
Bunghole, I get it now.
Our favorite was frotteur – a person who engages in the sexual act of frottage.
We liked that definition after we looked up the word frottage: The act of rubbing up against the body of another person, as in a crowd, in order to gain sexual gratification. We admitted we’ve both done that at times, usually on the subway. So we started calling ourselves frotteurs. She said, “I want to frottage you.” I said it was a noun, so she said, “I want to do frottage to you.” I just said, “nah, that’s ok.”
She asked if I minded, as a straight guy, if a transgendered sexually harasses me. I said, nope, so long as it’s just for fun and she didn’t expect to get anywhere with me. Being sexually harassed is ego boosting and I’m ok with that. She said she doesn’t, she just likes to sexually harass straight guys when they allow it because it doesn’t happen often, and that she liked me because I was adorable and peculiar. She kept calling me peculiar. I like being peculiar. I asked her if she minded if I kept sticking my hands down my pants to scratch my balls, and I explained the bet I lost and that I had to shave them. They’re so fucking itchy from the hair growing back. I said no when she offered to scratch them for me, and she told me that’s just a little part of the harassment.
She told me I was her caballero. I said, that’s cool. I began calling her Nicola, because it rhymed with Lola, and she loved that because that’s one of her favorite songs. Eventually, I shortened it to Cola, which she liked even better. C-O-L-A Cola.
She stayed until the store closed and we walked to Dunkin’ Donuts. She ordered warm milk with sugar and a splash of coffee thrown in. Cola appreciates the opposites of everything.
Being with her, it was a shame to see all the stares and mockingly amused, demeaning expressions on people’s faces. She lives like that every day of her life. There was a lot of acceptance too. But it sucks that the acceptance stands out and is recognized with gratitude. Acceptance should just happen, without it being so extraordinary.
When it was time to go home, she said she didn’t want to go. She was living with a man who was her supposed boyfriend, but they got in an argument and he kicked her out. She was originally planning to return anyway, hoping the offer of a blow job would ease things. Of course she had to add that men give the best blow jobs since they have the equipment, they know best what to do with it.
I responded with, “I thought you were all woman.”
“You’re cheeky. I like that about you.”
I told her she could stay the night with me, but we had to take a cab, since I only had my bike. I left my bike at the store, so hopefully tonight when I go back the tires won’t have been stolen.
Cola slept in my bed and I slept on the floor. I have to wake her soon because I have to go to school this morning. We’ll have a quick breakfast and coffee upstairs with Howard. I’m pretty sure Howard will appreciate Cola’s visit, but he will also be baffled. I like to throw Howard off now and then. He never knows what to expect from me and I’m entertained by that.
And it’s late, gotta wake her up, but I’ll end with today’s theme song which unavoidably has to be “Lola” by The Kinks.
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