Adventures in the Parking Lot

A few night ago, I got to meet someone, I had met online, in person. I met them on OKCupid when I was looking to make friends.

I know. OKCupid. To make friends. I didn’t get a single dick pic. It was shocking but I’m certainly not unappreciative.

Anyways, we live in the same city, met up at Starbucks, I bought him coffee, and we went Pokemon hunting. We meet other trainers and saw people camping out in front of gyms. It was a lot more fun than I was expecting it to be!

It was getting late, so we headed back to the car to say our goodbyes when all of a sudden…

“Heeeeeeyyyyy… Is this your car?”

This guy rolls up on his little bike to strike up an intoxicated conversation. Apparently, Ozzy Osbourne shows up every Saturday to have coffee with police officers in a trashy blue pick up truck. And gave him some weed. Of which he showed us his “sacred weed” that he shall never smoke, which was torn out clump of grass. He also lives in the trash can “over there”.

Curse me for not knowing how to keep my mouth shut, I gained his attention by agreeing and asking questions with whatever nonsense came out of his toothless mouth. He kept getting closer and closer to me which is what became the plan. I let my new friend get away to his car and I was able to safely get into mine, end the conversation, and watch him roll up to another group talking in the parking lot.

This was not terrifying. Not even nerve wracking for me. Where I went to college, I’d go as far to say half the population is or has been homeless. I have a lot of experience with these kinds of people. The only upsetting part of the entire conversation was…

He asked if we were boyfriend and girlfriend.

So much for what I thought was a good make up/outfit/binding job.



I Don’t Deserve These Friends

I am an incredibly lucky person to have friends that are supportive. Incredibly. Lucky.

Labor Day, I went with my friend “Casper” the Friendly Trans, to meet my best friend from college, “Peanut Butter”, who is also my Best Man for my wedding. We got food (Shabu Shabu!) and talked about random things. Mostly Casper and Peanut were asking each other questions and I was crossing my fingers, hoping they got along and wanted to be friends.

Peanut and I consumed probably half the mornings reserves of meat by ourselves. And we were proud of it, dammit. And neither of us logged out calories for that day. We were content.

Also during lunch, I expanded the small group of people that get to know about my gender identity crisis, and told Peanut. I was nervous and not at the same time. I didn’t think that he would suddenly hate me or be rude.

However, I have been surprised before.

Flashback to 2008, the latter half of my Junior year of high school. I had just moved out of my abusive household to live with my mom, moving 700 miles away from friends and family. Mind you, previous to this move I had lived in that location for TWO years. The longest I’d ever been in one place.

I had already been exploring my spirituality in secret, since Dad and Step Mom were non approving of… everything…anyways. I was free to explore in my new home with Mom. I really started to feel like that part of me was accepted. So I wanted others to accept me as well. I hadn’t told my exclusively online friends about it, because there had never been a reason. But I was becoming confident. I felt I could be more expressive. I could be myself without fear!

I told my best friend that I was Pagan!

And she blocked me. Ignored me. Retreated completely from me. Was angry. Sent me upset emails. Told me I was going to hell.


And I haven’t spoken to her since. Never have I felt so hurt and betrayed. My BEST friend. I trusted her. I reached out to her. I tried to get her to understand I am still the same person! …Nothing worked. And I felt wrong, guilty, and felt my worth as a human being plummet. Not all of my friends reacted the same way, but it only takes one.

Flashforward, I’m aware it’s a possibility that Peanut will walk out. He’ll think the worst of me. Even though he was the factor that got me thinking about my identity. All it took was that simple question.

“What does [Lost Boy] identify as?”

He wouldn’t have asked if he wasn’t prepared for an answer. So I told him. And?

So supportive. Peanut is not just my Best Man, he is THE best man.

After lunch, I introduced Peanut and Casper to Boomers! an arcade/park. We chipped in for a ton of points to play games and played mini golf together. I’m introducing Casper to video games, so the arcade was really exciting for me. But we opted to do mini golf first. We were awful. Like. We suck at golf you guys. But it was so much fun.

At about the fifth hole or so, both Peanut and Casper asked me if I wanted them to call me by my -currently being tested- name. And use male pronouns.

And I swelled inside.

I probably didn’t let them see that, but I was elated that they cared. Casper knows what it’s like, since he’s just been trough this. But for Peanut to also offer and then go out f his way to use the pronouns and my name? I was trying really hard to contain myself. I don’t know what I did to earn such friends. I certainly don’t feel like I deserve them. But I couldn’t be happier to have them by my side.





The First Post

I could mull over all day what to write here, but the fact of the matter is:

This first post is always the most awkward.

  • What does the reader expect?
  • Who I am?
  • What I will write about?
  • Do I write well enough to entertain the writers needs?

But the truth is, I have no straightforward way to answer those questions or provide you proof of an answer. What I can tell you is WHY I decided to create this blog.

This isn’t my first time, that’s for certain. When I was younger, I wanted the world to know my feelings and validate me- which was all a cry for attention that I felt I was deprived of (which still isn’t wrong, however it wasn’t the best way to cope with that feeling).

As I have grown and learned myself, I have stumbled upon something big.
Larger than life.
A monumental decision.
Something that had been a fleeting unattainable thought until now.
I’m not a lesbian.

Shocking, I know! Any one who knows me, knows I have this running gag of all lesbians like gay guys. It’s just a “lesbian thing”. Just as all straight guys like lesbians. I’m using the term all very loosely here.

What brought about this notion was my friend asking my partner,

“What does (Lost Boy) identify as?”

I didn’t give it much thought at first. I liked being boyish. But I liked being a girl sometimes too. I thought…I’m just boyish. Or…sometimes, I could like being a guy. Maybe I’m gender fluid? Which is a term I had to look up.

The more I pondered, the more I researched. The more I researched, the more I realized.

I was not comfortable with the term lesbian. But I had earned the label by being a female what is attracted to other females. I went through the hardships of acquiring that title. The pain of having to come out of the closet every time I moved schools. The agony of having to come out to my parents not once, but TWICE (I was received with complete denial the first attempt).

Now, the reason I’m starting the blog, before I get too carried away, is next.

I think I’m pretty sure I’m gonna go out on a limb and say —

I’m a boy.

To document my feelings, my relationships, and my journey as I discover this statement, which I hold to be self-evident, I have created this blog.

I don’t seek my feelings to be validated. My goal is not to gain attention (as I will be using Pet Names for all of my friends and family.

My ultimate goal is to be a guide and/or an example for those who are also just Lost Boys and Girls.

Peter Pan - Second Star to the Right