Girl Sweet called me today, mid-morning. “I’m in the city. Can you meet me for lunch in an hour?”
Let’s see… Can I be clear across the city an hour from now when I’m still in my pyjamas and the coffee hasn’t even finished brewing…?
“I would really love to see you, even if it’s just for a little while,” she pleaded.
It would be our first “outing.” Sure, we’ve had lunch together before, but I’ve only ever gone out with boy Sweet. I’ve had girl Sweet over to my place, but we had no “real world” experience yet. To Sweet, this was important.
If I said it really wasn’t doable, she would have taken it as an affront. She would have thought I didn’t want to be seen in public with her, when nothing could be further from the truth. Hell, I want to show her picture to everyone on the subway and say, “This is my girlfriend. Isn’t she hot?!?”
Sweet is a hell of a lot needier, and way more of a girly girl, than any gg (“genuine girl” or chromosomal female) I’ve ever been interested in. I tend to like girls who only wear skirts facetiously. With Sweet, I really have to be careful. She’s sensitive. She’s a little bit fragile, even. She interprets everything as relating to her trans-ness.
“I’ll see you in an hour, Sweet.”
Miraculously, it took me only forty minutes to get across the city. There was Sweet, waiting for me at the subway. She looked more spectacular than ever, even though her outfit was very simple. I was glowing, seeing her. She was glowing, seeing me.
When we got to the restaurant, the server showed us to our table and said, “Enjoy your meal, ladies.” My heart fluttered just a little bit. Normally, I would have been irritated at being called a “lady” because I sure as hell don’t look or act like one, but today I was too delighted to care.
Sweet still has concerns about being “read” (about people wondering if her sex is aligned with her gender presentation), but I can’t imagine anyone viewing her as anything but the gorgeous girl I see.
