Entry #15: Disfunction

When Annie described her family life and her journey, I found it to be a heartbreaking story.

She said that she knew who she was by the time she reached ten years old. While her mother supported her in minor ways, the animosity she received from her father devastated her. He railed against all her decisions, and when she was thirteen he threw her out of the house.

Against all odds Annie and Ellen surfed couches at the homes of friends and worked their way through high school. They went to the same college and even though they both worked around their classes, they could only afford one studio room on campus, which they shared until they graduated.

Both were lucky to land full time careers after graduation. Ellen with the government, which meant moving to Denver and Annie with an insurance company, making the move to Seattle. While building their careers they found they travelled frequently to the same cities and saw each other at least twice a month.

When we met, Annie was thirty nine, and Ellen was thirty eight. Neither were able to keep in touch with their families although through friends Annie made sure her mother always knew where she was. I remember many nights we would lie in bed and she would tell me horrible stories of her childhood. I grew to despise her father, even though we would never meet.

Even though we had not yet completed the arrangements to live together and move to Canada, our lives together were as normal as could be expected taking into consideration the discrimination she endured in the country at the time. She would take me to dance clubs in three of our favorite cities where she knew she would be safe from scrutiny and there would not be any issues. These clubs were unlike the bars or music rooms I frequented. Everyone was there to have a good time and no one cared about your personal life. We always went as a couple and were accepted as such.

After Annie passed and the months of anger and despair seemed to ease up a bit, I found that everything had changed for me mentally. It wasn’t enough that I gave up playing music. Traveling to the same cities we always travelled to, I found myself walking down the same streets, looking into the same shop windows, picking out clothes for Annie even though she was gone. One morning I woke up to find a bag on the table with a beautiful sexy dress in it. I obviously bought it the night before. At least I had the receipt so I took it back. I knew I had reached a turning point one night when I went into one of the clubs we had both visited so many times. It was so strange to go in as a male without her on my arm. There were some looks and I got the distinct feeling I wasn’t welcome any more. I was at the bar having a drink when a woman came up next to me, grabbed my ass and said hello. I turned to her, smiled and said sorry I am just leaving. I don’t know what she had in mind, but I was not interested.

I knew right then that I could not continue on like this. All of the adventures and the life we had in those cities were now just memories and every visit became more difficult. When I returned home, I quit my job. I could no longer play the music and I couldn’t continue to mentally tear myself apart revisiting those places. I just did not care about anything.

Over the intervening years the band has continued to reach out to me to play shows, but I just can’t do it. I still love music and will frequently go to some of my old clubs as long as the music is not what I played. Since I gained all the weight, most of the people I know don’t recognize me and I am ok with that. I would rather just pay for a ticket and sit in a dark corner in the back and enjoy the music without having to interact with anyone. I don’t travel much either and when I do, I pick places I haven’t been to before so I don’t have to face those old places.

I can face the fact that I have some sort of mental deficiency in dealing with this past, but the thought of going to a complete stranger to discuss it seems a bridge too far to me. Writing seems to be an adequate outlet for now, but what I miss most is having that human physical contact that comes from a having a true friend you can just hug and touch and discuss your true feelings with.

Entry #14: Introvert

I have always been an introvert. The truth is that I find most people either uninteresting or down right disappointing. Idle conversation just does not hold my interest and I would prefer to listen most of the time and if I have something of value to contribute I will.

So many conversations are initiated by people who just like to hear themselves speak. I am just not one of those people. Many of those same people show no interest in what is happening in the lives of others they are friends with. They are happy to pass the time with meaningless conversation, but seldom if ever ask the questions of another that would show that they are truly interested.

Over the years, my habit of listening more than speaking, and asking the hard questions of my friends gave me perspective into their lives. I can count on one hand the number of times those types of questions were posed to me. Disappointing, right?

Annie turned that model upside down. She immediately started out asking questions, and in return revealing her personal self. She was and still is the only person that managed to break through to me on a personal level. She was the only one who proved she did care by making the effort. Even today, I can start out a conversation with someone new, ask some questions, reveal some facts and still not get a question in return. I have to believe that most people just do not care how others feel or what is going on in their lives.

We had the deepest, heartfelt conversations between us as we described all our fears and hopes to each other. We both loved rain storms. When a storm was approaching we would head to the nearest beach to feel the fury of the storm and the pounding of the waves. The dark energy seemed to revitalize us.

Storms are a lot different for me now that she has passed. I still go to the ocean if I am near, whenever a storm occurs but no longer get the same result. It is always the same for me. I wait till the rain begins to pound on the sand and walk to the waters edge and sit and wait. The spot is always chosen where others are out enjoying the storm. I always write Annies name in the sand in front of me and wait. I wait for the rising waters to wash away her name as the tears stream down my face. No one else can see the tears because of the rain pounding on everything.

It would be so easy to just get up and walk out into the water and never be seen again. But then what? There is no guarantee I would see her again. Nor is there a guarantee that the memories I have of her would still be memories, or would there be nothing but darkness? The risk of losing those memories, which are the only thing that keeps me going every day is too much to consider.

So, when the tears finally subside, I get up and leave. There will be another storm and then I will be back to write her name in the sand once more.

Entry #13: The First Time

I remember the first time. After all these years, that moment is burned into my memory forever.

We were in Montreal for a show and it was just another rehearsal like so many others. We played the songs exactly the way we intended them to sound and then sat to listen to the playback.

Annie snuggled up next to me with her head on my shoulder as the music began playing. All of a sudden, when the voice track began, she was singing the lyrics in my ear to the music, soft as a whisper so no one else could hear.

In French! In stunned silence, I just sat there squeezing her hand, hoping the song would never end and I would breathe again before I passed out. As the song went on I could feel her shudder as she sang. When the song ended, I turned to face her, completely confused, only to find her in tears.

Annie said she had not spoken French in years, and she loved me so much she just became overwhelmed in the moment and it seemed to be the only way she could express herself. I had no idea she could speak any other language but English. She said yes, she also spoke Vietnamese and a bit of Tagalog.

After that evening, she spoke to me in French a lot. I mean every day. I do not understand 95% of what she said and she would translate in English immediately, but I had to hear her speak to me in French.

The hours, spent gazing into her eyes as she lovingly whispered to me in French just melted me. I will never hear her voice again, but those are memories I will take with me forever.

Entry #12: Shopping

Annie loved to shop. It didn’t matter what city we were in, she always brought back her latest purchases to the hotel to show off. I don’t know how she found the time with her regular day job and the fact that we always had plans of some sort for the evening. She was obsessed with always having the latest fashion and she would do her research to find the appropriate event or in-place for us to go so she could dress to kill.

I am not much in the shopping world, but have to admit that her constant desire to be in dress up mode did start to affect how I dressed as well. I couldn’t let her be seen with a bum when going out on the town. So I shopped as well.

Shopping with Annie had its perils of course. We enjoyed shopping at night, so we could walk the streets together in the shopping neighborhoods. Stores were always lit up and it was great people watching as well. I always walked on the street side with Annie because that is what a gentleman does. We could be innocently walking down the street having a conversation and suddenly I would find myself alone talking to myself. Sometimes it would take me several minutes to back track and find out which store Annie had dove into. Anything sparkly or sexy displayed in the window would draw her in.

In the beginning, when I would pick out clothing for her she would politely decline my choice saying it was a bit too conservative for her. After a few times like that, I decided to change tactics. I would choose some of the most scandalous outfits I could find. She loved it. Who knew? From that point on she insisted I shop with her, hang out by the dressing rooms and give my opinions. Nothing was too sexy or daring for her to wear.

One night when we were in Montreal she decided she wanted to go shopping for some personal lingerie. I said sure, I can just hang out at a coffee shop as they were on every corner in the old city. She said no, she had a particular shop she always went to for those items and I was to come with her. When we arrived I noticed the windows were all covered for privacy. I told her I didn’t think it was such a good idea for me to accompany her inside, as the clientele might not like a male inside while the ladies were trying on all sorts of things. She just laughed at me and said I was being provincial and she grabbed my hand and in we went.

I would be lying if I said I wasn’t embarrassed. There I sat on a comfortable chair while she tried on numerous things and would strut over to me to get my opinion. The fact that the sales women and other women trying on items didn’t even bat an eye that there was a male sitting right there in the open while they took items on and off while I desperately tried to focus only on Annie was distressing to say the least. She finally decided on her purchases and I said, great, we need to get out of here. She laughed at me so hard I had to join her. She was totally enjoying my discomfort in the whole situation and promised to give me a private show when we got back to the hotel. As we walked away, she whispered into my ear…think how much more you will enjoy it the next time. I just shook my head thinking how in the world did I get so lucky to have this sexy, sometimes fearful, sometimes fearless, sometimes powerful woman to look forward to being with the rest of my life.

Entry #9: Plan B

There was no Plan B.

Annie and I were both successful at what we did professionally, working independently most of the time.

By this point we were spending less and less time at our respective homes and traveling together practically every week both for work and to spend as many hours as possible together. We both knew that this model was not sustainable and we would have to make some choices.

Walking together through the various cities was one of those special things we enjoyed in the evenings. Yet underneath it all Annie was always apprehensive. She did not feel safe walking streets at night no matter how crowded and safe it might appear. As time went on, her sense of the lack of safety caused me to become more aware of our surroundings and as I began to worry for her myself, the enjoyment started to wane.

Deciding what to do next worked out quite naturally. We looked at all the cities that we visit regularly and put them into columns to decide where the safest and most positive vibe presented itself. Deciding to give up everything for each other was no easy path but we committed to it. We had talked multiple times about starting our own consulting business. We also discussed what would happen if we sold and gave up everything we had to move in a single purpose together for the future. It would be both difficult and painful, but we loved each other too much to not take the chance.

We decided on Montreal. We both love the old centre city with all the shops, restaurants, and bakeries. The fact that French was spoken almost everywhere in the old city made it the most romantic place outside of France itself. We both had contacts there and they assured us we could find an affordable flat in the most desirable area. Montreal was and still is the most accepting city I have been in and Annie felt safe there. Another positive is that we could actually get married there and live a normal life together. The U.S. did not allow our marriage at that time and the environment for us would not be welcoming.

Our business could be run from anywhere, and investing in and opening a business in Canada gave us favorable status for immigration. We put in motion a lot of the pieces to make it all happen and started the immigration paperwork that was going to take some time. We both started the process of notifying our employers of possible departure schedules and both were more than willing to work with us.

The plan was to make the move when Annie returned from her surgery in Thailand. She was having wedding bands made there at the same time by an artist she had researched. We would move to Montreal, get married, love and live with each other the rest of our lives. That was the whole plan. That was the only plan. There was no Plan B.

Annie went to Thailand and never returned. The only regret I have in life is not making that trip with her.

Entry #6: A Different Time

It was a different time in America when I met Annie. While we have come a long way in becoming a more accepting society, there is a long way to go. Today’s internet is so robust you would have a hard time not finding information on just about anything you wish to. Back then when we met, not so much.

On our third night (date) when she revealed that she was trans, I was so shocked that I was at a loss for words momentarily. I could not comprehend what that meant and asked her to explain. She said that while she lives her life as a woman and has since she was thirteen, she was born a boy. I said, that while I don’t know what that means for us, I don’t think it really matters. She responded that well…it will.

Annie was almost forty years old and had never had a relationship with a man and had no more than a handful of dates. She grew up in such fear for her safety and position in society that she closed herself off to everyone. Yet, on the first night we met, we both understood that we had stumbled into something that couldn’t be denied.

We met again the following week at a nice restaurant and the tension in the air was obvious. The few days apart had only solidified what we were feeling for each other. Our first kiss later that night was like a fire that consumed everything in the room. At one point I wondered if I would ever be able to breathe again. All of her fear and apprehension came to bear on the single moment she was so afraid of, but was desperate to experience. While we both wanted that final confirmation of what we felt for each other, all I could think of was that what I really wanted was to give her the love she lacked her whole life. I can’t recall everything I said, but remember mumbling something along the lines of “its only plumbing.” That night’s experience with Annie is something that I will never forget.

It just became better and better and more intense every time we were together until it ended.

There is no path forward to reimagine my experiences and passion for her with someone new. Deep down inside, I know that is my truth. She will always be the one and no one can take her place.