After over a year of baring my soul and grief, I get ghosted.

Life is so disappointing.

Most of the comments I receive are of the positive type and most of the questions are asked in a respectful way. But, sometimes a question comes across that simply throws me off my game.

One such question came from a male who while not subscribed to my blog, obviously reads it, and reached out to me recently.

He began by stating that he enjoys my writing style and the subject matter, and wanted to know what city I lived in and if I would be interested meeting for a date? He explained further that if I had such a loving relationship with a trans woman, I should be receptive to dating a man. Well, I politely shut that down in short order, but that then got me to thinking, which is always a dangerous thing to do.

Why would anyone equate a trans woman with a cis male? It is like comparing the sun and the moon. I have never had the desire to date a male and honestly, while I have seen a few very attractive men in my life, there has never been a desire to date or have any type of romantic relationship with a male.

It’s just not in my wheelhouse. The thought of such a relationship just never occurred to me and after thinking long and hard on his comments, I can say it most likely never will. Simply put, I am just not attracted to men or the male body. All that testosterone is a definite turn off for me.

So that brought me to part two. Will I date another trans woman?

How can I answer that? I didn’t know Annie was trans when I met her. I did not seek her out. We met organically, solely by being in the same place at the same time, and formed an instant bond with each other. I have grieved for her every day for these past eleven years and have no intention of ever doing anything to lessen my memories of the time we spent together.

Dating. Nope. Not in the cards. I could accept a serious friendship however.

We all have our demons. I went through a lot to get control over mine and over the last ten years have been successful at keeping them at bay. Most of my demons revolve around losing Annie a little over ten years ago. I manage to keep control over these demons by compartmentalizing everything about that time in my life and by only selectively keeping the loving memories alive. After ten years I still refuse to deal with her passing and the darkness that permeates my life when that comes to the surface.

A good friend passed through town last night and we decided to grab a few drinks on his layover. We have not seen each other in quite a while and since he was the friend who rescued me after Annie passed, it would be good to see him. Everything started out quite well and the conversation flowed right along with the drinks. And then he hit me with a real gut punch. He showed me a few pictures he had saved of Annie and myself together. In his defense, he had no idea how I would respond to seeing those. I have spent ten years hiding any images of her because I knew just seeing them would cause those demons to resurface. Ten years of keeping the memories alive in my mind and refusing to face the reality of what happened. When he rescued me from his beach house in Mexico the story goes, I was surrounded by alcohol bottles and grasping her pictures in my hand. He obviously saved the pictures as well as me.

I just sat there stunned for I don’t know how long. To see those images in front of me and the fact that she was even more beautiful than my memories just broke me down. I was not prepared to ever see those again. The safety of my memories was now broken. I can’t even imagine how to move forward. Ten years of keeping those demons locked away and now they are back.

There might be one positive result of last night but I hold out little hope. I saw a different me in those pictures. I was healthy and fit and wore stylish clothes. After she passed on my life went to hell and back. I gained forty pounds and stopped caring about most everything. I lived, but I wasn’t living if that makes any sense. Perhaps I can use this episode to get back into shape. I still have a gym membership that I have not used in those ten years. Maybe I can use this to motivate me again. It may take even more years to be able to look at those pictures again. At my age I doubt there will be another relationship, but the gym might become a substitute.

Hiding In Plain Sight

I have been attempting to start this blog for quite some time without success. Recently, someone I know wrote a post that became the trigger for this introduction. She couldn’t have known, and will never know, because she in fact does not know the actual me. She’s never asked.

Growing up in a middle class household, there wasn’t much lacking. Except for one pretty important thing. There wasn’t much love spread verbally. Actually none at all that I can recall.

One always looks to parental input regarding the fact that they do in fact love their children. I don’t think that my siblings or I ever heard those words. Not only did we not hear the “I love you” sentiment from either of my parents, there was a total lack of verbal approval for any of our accomplishments. Never an “I am proud of you” for this or that.

It took many years to realize that the complete lack of verbal parental love or approval during those formative years, leads one to hide their feelings. And, that can easily allow you to compartmentalize everything into little boxes. Once you start down that slippery slope, it is hard to regain equilibrium. As years pass by the little boxes get bigger, stuffed to overflowing with more hidden thoughts and you gradually squeeze out the light, leaving you with a head full of dark boxes filled with dark thoughts.

On the surface, to your friends and people you meet, all seems well enough. But it isn’t. You put on a happy face, people come in and out of your life, but no one really knows what goes on inside your head. No one really knows your true self. No one asks.

You hide all of that. It is all too easy, as there are so many ways to hide. You hide behind your professional accomplishments, various relationships, sports you take part in. Easiest of all is to hide behind any creativity you might have, your music, your art, and your writings. You present yourself on all of those platforms and people will comment and possibly praise what you present to them, but it is in the end unfulfilling. You take it all in and walk away. The fact is, they do not know you. They only know what they see on the surface.

Most of the time this works out pretty well. But you have no way to know when someone or something will trigger the key to unlock those dark, hidden spaces. When that trigger happens, one of two things may result. One trigger can allow the light to shine in bringing some new insight and clarity. Or, it can bring those dark thoughts to the surface, turning them even darker and have you struggling to slam the box shut harder than ever before. Once you have them, the dark thoughts are always there. They are just boiling below the surface, looking for any excuse to escape and consume you.

It was quite surprising then that some years ago, I actually met someone who managed to trigger both. We met quite unexpectedly, in a situation that might never have been repeated. She brought a blinding light into my average life that was all consuming. She had such a contradictive personality. She was fierce, and strong in her business life, yet vulnerable and with an innocent sense of wonder about the world in her personal life.

For some reason, I became the one she would share her story with and it went both ways. The hiding was put to rest and the more she revealed the more light was unleashed. Over time, the stories, the quiet moments, and shared experiences came with knowing someone on the deepest level by taking the time to ask who they really are and in turn listening to their answers. That type of bond requires no hiding. It is an unbreakable bond that keeps the darkness at bay.

Until it breaks.

It was broken on the night of her ultimate victory that morning over her lifelong biological struggle when her heart simply failed. And that failure became the other trigger.

The trigger was instantaneous, bringing forth a rage and despair that unleashed all of those boiling beneath the surface thoughts from all of those black boxes hidden away for all of those years when there was light. So although ten years have passed, the darkness is now the place of safety. The walls against the light are now stronger than ever. They have to be, because to allow for a trigger to possibly bring in the light again, an open the door for the second trigger exists. And that is a chance that cannot be allowed to repeat.

The hiding is once again the safest place, since no one really knows you. They can’t know you because they won’t ask. They only see what you give them.