A note about this Article. It’s a heartfelt Article about one Admirer’s Experiences with Dating and Trying to find a permanent relationship with a Transexual. It is a tad Adult in a few spots, but, it is such a well written, honest Article about 1 Admirer’s Experiences we think it will provide some Insight into what it’s like from the persepective of Some Admirer’s struggling to find a long term relationship. Thank you Larry for bearing your soul and sharing this with everyone at URNotALone.
The Heartaches of a Lonely Straight Male Who Loves Transsexuals
It didn?t start out to be a day that would change my life forever. The year was 1981. I was 17, about to start my senior year of high school. I was sitting in a movie theater watching the latest James Bond film, For Your Eyes Only. I was a big fan of the Bond movies, and had seen every one of them in the theater going back to the late 60’s, usually with my family. This time, I was alone and enjoying what was probably Roger Moore?s best outing in the series. But something struck me while watching the movie. It was during a scene by a pool. There were a lot of bikini-clad beauties in the scene, but there was one who left a major impression on me. She was tall, dark-haired and GORGEOUS…but if you blinked, you would have missed her.
Afterwards, I didn?t think much of it. Then, a week or so later, my monthly copy of Playboy arrived. I had been subscribing (without my parents? knowledge) to the magazine for nearly a year. And like many awkward teenagers, the self-pleasuring I got with the magazine?s assistance was pretty much the only sex action I got. The issue arrived complete with a ?Girls of James Bond? feature. All of the models who had made cameo appearances in the film also appeared nude in the issue. This included the striking beauty who had briefly appeared (and impressed me so) in the pool scene. Her name was Tula. I didn?t know anything about her, but I did enjoy the visual stimulus her photos provided during my long bathroom stays.
Then a few months later, I was looking at another issue of Playboy when I happened to spot a small nude photo of Tula in the readers? letters section. At first, I figured someone else had been as impressed with her as I had been, and wanted to see another photo of her. I read the accompanying letter…and almost fell off the porcelain throne. The letter writer was asking Playboy to confirm a rumor that had been going around that the luscious Tula had once been a man! The magazine did indeed confirm that she had been ?one of the boys? (their words, not mine). I was shocked, confused…and aroused!
Now I had heard of transsexuals before, but had never thought much about the subject. Transsexuals were Renee Richards…or Christine Jorgensen…or Robert Reed on a Medical Center episode that I remembered from a few years earlier. Transsexuals were NOT beautiful models that I would be madly in lust with!
I tried to take my mind off the subject by packing away the Playboy issues that Tula had graced. And truthfully speaking, the ploy worked for several years.
Then came January 1986. I was now a 21-year-old college senior. A college friend of mine had managed to land three tickets to the Super Bowl in New Orleans, so he, another friend and I turned it into a road trip, skipping out of a couple days? worth of classes to make the drive for the game. After watching the Chicago Bears slaughter the New England Patriots in the game on Sunday afternoon, we did what any healthy college student would do. We headed to Bourbon Street for a night of drunken debauchery! We were walking down the infamous street when we stumbled across a ?titty bar? called Papa Joe?s. The barker outside was shouting to the passing crowd, ?Come see Daddy?s little boy grown up to look like Mama!? (These are words I will never forget as long as I live!) It seems that Papa Joe?s was a club that would, in this day and age, be known as a ?transgender bar? (where all the big-breasted dancers also happened to have been born men!), but in 1986, such an establishment was totally alien to a somewhat naive kid like me. Remembering my confused feelings over Tula, I hesitated going in at first. But my buddies thought it would be funny, and I followed along.
Her name was Me?Shell, and I loved the exotic spelling! She was about 5’8″, with a body that any straight teenaged boy would lust after. She was brunette and bore a striking resemblance to a young Cher. I was transfixed by her on stage, and when she removed her G-string at the end of her sexy dance, revealing a small but definitely male penis, I found myself more turned on than I had ever been in my life!! My buddies were going into an increasing stage of inebriation, so I snuck away to the bar when I saw Me?Shell standing there several minutes after she had finished her act. I summoned up the courage to ask her if I could buy her a drink, and she said yes.
Me?Shell and I engaged in small talk (while I desperately tried to hide the bulge in my pants), and I got to know her a little. She claimed to be 25, although I estimated that she was probably closer to 30. But that didn?t matter. She was HOT and I would have done just about anything to be with her. As I slowly came to realize, my actions were standard operating procedure for a potential ?date? in this particular club (in this instance, a business transaction rather than a social event). But what would I be able to do? I was sharing a motel room with my friends, Me?Shell made it clear that her place was out of the question (apparently she had ?roommates?), and I really didn?t have enough money to go through with it anyway. When my buddies began making moves to leave, I sheepishly went with them. I had left behind my first opportunity to act upon that fantasy of being with a transsexual. But I had a long ten hour drive back home the next day to think about it, and I came to realize that someday I was going to have to act upon it or go nuts.
After getting back home, I headed to a local adult movie store and bought my first ever transsexual video. It was called She-Male Encounters, and it starred the busty Sulka. I found myself fascinated with this video. Every time I watched it, I couldn?t take my eyes off it as Sulka fondled her huge tits and stroked her cock. Sulka was by no means as attractive or feminine as Tula and Me?Shell had been (nor were any other of the ?girls? in this particular flick), but it didn?t keep me from pleasuring myself to this video on an almost nightly basis.
Now I feel that I should point out that I had never felt any sexual arousal by a male. Gay men (of which there were quite a few at my college) made me uncomfortable, although I tried to be as tolerant as was possible for someone from a rather conservative background. The sight of a pretty girl got my hormones going just like it would with any other normal healthy straight male. But I was starting to realize even at that maturity level (or lack thereof) that the few times I had partaken in sexual relations with girls, it had left me feeling somewhat empty. I knew there was something missing, and now I was starting to figure out what it was.
I was by no means a prude. I had lost my virginity at the age of 14 with a 16-year-old member of the high school dance team. I was never in with the ?cool crowd? at my school. I was always somewhat overweight, unathletic and unattractive, so having an opportunity to be with one of the school?s most popular (and prettiest) girls was one of the highlights of my life to that point. I didn?t find out until later on that she had only been with me because she had lost a bet with some of her friends. When I received that piece of information, I was devastated. I don?t think I have ever gotten over it, even to this day. I have always had difficulty being intimate with anyone as a result. Needless to say, my social life for the remainder of my high school career was virtually non-existent…and that largely carried over into my college years.
By the summer of 1987 I had graduated from college. Shortly before starting my first job after graduating, I returned to New Orleans with some family members. This time around, I would have my own hotel room…and I was determined to finally live out my fantasy with Me?Shell. My first night in town, I snuck away from the hotel and headed to Papa Joe?s. But she wasn?t there. I asked around, but got conflicting information. One of the dancers said she had moved to California. Another said she had headed to Florida. I even had one of the bartenders tell me that she had been killed in a car wreck! I never did find out what actually happened to her, but needless to say, I never saw her again. It was my first real transsexual-related heartache.
After starting my job, I learned that the city where I lived actually had a red light district where most of the girls were transsexuals or transvestites. Because I worked primarily nights, and the fact that the district was just a few blocks from where I worked, I often headed there after work to stake out the action. Most of the ?girls? there were by no means passable, however. I had no attraction at all to ?drag queens?, and still don?t to this day. I never wanted to be with someone who was a man during the day and a ?woman? at night. I can?t even bring myself to refer to these individuals as ?she? or ?her?. It just doesn?t work for me. To me, the only real transsexual is someone who lives as a woman 24/7, and should be at least undergoing some kind of hormone therapy to make themselves more feminine (obviously, I don?t have a problem with ?silicone queens? either…it would be rather difficult for them to ever live as men after having so much expensive work done). Besides, by now it was the late 80’s, and the AIDS scare kept me from ever really acting out my fantasy with any of the street girls.
No, my only sexual contact during this period, other than occasional dates with ?real? women, was with my left hand while watching one of my ever-increasing number of transsexual videos. The stars of the era were the girls of my dreams at that time. Girls like Angelique Ricard, Dana Douglass, Christina Devereaux and the amazing Stasha (who I later learned was actually from my hometown, a fact I never knew until after her untimely death) had become my companions…at least in my fantasies. Because I worked at night, I also became a regular viewer of the daytime talk shows, where transsexuals began appearing regularly. Mimi Marks, Heather Daniels and the late Tandy Andrews and Amber Richards were some of the ?regulars? who made the rounds. I had mad crushes on each of them.
Then it happened! January 28, 1992. I had been vacationing with friends in Las Vegas. Because of a scheduling snafu, I ended up staying in town for an extra day after everyone else had left. I had hit a royal flush on a progressive video poker machine, and was feeling pretty good. That night, my last night in town, I decided to make the call. I had picked up one of ?those? magazines my first day in town, five days earlier. I saw the ad, and I?ll never forget what it said. ?Beautiful Las Vegas Transsexual Showgirls, Direct To Your Room, Performing Totally Nude!?
I had waited five days. Hell, I had waited TEN YEARS! I picked up the phone and called the number. The agency girl asked me what kind of escort I would like to be with. I told her my favorite ?fetishes?: long hair (I wasn?t particular on the hair color), long fingernails, nice legs, great breasts. In reality, I knew that was a lot to ask for…but the agency girl said she had the perfect match for me. Her name was Bambi, and she?d be at my room within the hour. It was the longest hour of my life!
Then came the knock…and there she was! Simply the most beautiful creature I?d ever laid eyes on! Bambi! Perfect body. 38DDD-25-36. 5’6″. 130 pounds. Near-waist length blonde hair. 25 years old. I was making love to the most gorgeous transsexual I?d ever seen! I sucked a cock for the first time in my life, and found myself amazed that the taste was wonderful!
I had paid for an hour of ecstasy. It had stretched to four hours! She said she enjoyed my company and the extra time was ?on the house?. Then she was gone. But she wasn?t really gone. I knew it was wrong. I knew it was hopeless. I knew I was setting myself up for a big fall. But I couldn?t help it. I had fallen madly in love with Bambi! I really had no choice. She was the girl I had been seeing in my dreams for as long as I could remember. Another heartache…only this one would last for a LONG TIME!!
I returned home from Vegas and began doing everything I could to get Bambi out of my mind. I worked harder than ever before. I continued collecting my TS videos. I even discovered the terrific Transformation magazine. Finally! A well-made Playboy-like mag featuring lovely trannies! I have bought every issue to this day, and have come to have great admiration for the beauties who have graced these pages. Gia Darling, Olivia Love, Tonya Cline, Shawna, Tara, the twins Gina & Geneva, Angel, Syran (a hot post-op), and even recent lovelies like Raquel, Nikita and Allanah Starr, have all kept my appreciation for transsexuals at a high level.
I even came to grips with my feelings for Bambi…at least at first. Over the next few years, I traveled to Las Vegas frequently, and became one of her ?regulars?. She even invited me into her home and let me know her real name (I won?t reveal it here to preserve her privacy…let?s just say it?s NOT Bambi). I knew that, like many real women, Bambi was holding out for a rich, handsome man. Neither of those words could be used to describe me. But I couldn?t get rid of my feelings for her…and finally on one of my trips to Vegas, I had to let her know how I felt. She wasn?t exactly thrilled about it, but she was cordial enough to at least say we could try dating on a non-professional basis for a while. She flat-out told me that she was not in love with me. But she did like me a lot, and said that feelings of love could come in time. It wasn?t a straight-out refusal, so I decided to pursue what she offered.
For another couple years, we saw each other every time I came to town. I always stayed with her at her place…but it was tough knowing each time she left me alone at her apartment, she was going out on a ?call?. I knew that I couldn?t say anything, though, because that was how we had met, after all.
Finally, I knew I had to take the next step. With nothing concrete lined up, and over the protests of my family, my friends, and even my own head, I quit my job and announced I was moving to Vegas to be with Bambi full time. I was in Vegas for about a month, searching for a job within my industry without luck, when she laid a bombshell on me. She told me to go back home and get a job there. She told me that she was getting tired of Vegas and wanted to ?go straight?. Once I got the job, got settled in, and she was finally ready to make the move, she would come to me!
Thinking nothing of it, I went back home. After several months of job-seeking (while watching my life savings dwindle down to almost nothing), I finally got the job of my dreams. Now I figured it was time to get the girl of my dreams. I mustered up what little savings I had left and put a down payment on a one-karat diamond engagement ring. It was the single most expensive item I had ever purchased, but I knew the time was right. I invited Bambi to come visit me for Christmas, and she agreed (it was her first trip to my home). I gave her the ring and proposed on Christmas Eve. What happened next should have raised red flags all around me, but I guess I was to blind to see it. Although she said ?yes?, she seemed disappointed in the ring, and even made the comment that she would marry me the day I got her two more karats. I was crushed, but said nothing.
Bambi went back to Vegas, then spent the next eighteen months coming up with every excuse in the book as to why she wasn?t ready to make the move. Finally, in a moment of what I guess was weakness, she called me and said to come get her. I flew to Vegas, paid for a moving van, and drove her the entire 1500 miles back to my home…a small apartment in the small city where my new job was located.
We were now living together for the first time, and learning more about each other than we?d ever known. I was soon to discover that she was not a very affectionate person. The great sex we?d had on my many visits to Vegas dwindled down to almost nothing. Plus, she had great difficulty ?going straight?. She tried several jobs, none of which lasted. She had a lot of trouble taking orders from bosses, and her mouth got her into trouble on numerous occasions. She finally got tired of trying, and announced that I was going to have to provide for both of us…even telling me I should get a second job so she could just sit around and do nothing. I knew I couldn?t support both of us on my salary and small bank account, and there was NO WAY I was going to get a second job. Needless to say, as the money got tighter (and my debts grew), our relationship deteriorated into a series of arguments and insults.
Finally, one day while I was at work, she took my credit card and rented a moving van (putting me even further in debt than I already was), packed up all her things, and moved back to Vegas. My heart was broken. She told me that it would just be a temporary thing until we could both get back on our feet. But she ended up cancelling several trips she had planned to come visit me, and I never could work out enough time to go see her. After being gone for nearly two years, and she finally came clean and told me she was likely never coming back.
It?s now been nearly three years, and once again, I?m lonely and alone. I guess what hurts the worst is knowing that I gave just about everything I had in making our relationship work. I literally spent every dime I had, worked extra overtime to get extra spending money, and went above and beyond the call to cater to her at every occasion…but she never even made an effort to return the favor. Plus, she told me every chance she got that my best efforts were not good enough for her.
I look in the mirror now and despise what I see. I?ve just recently turned 40 years old. I?m balding and paunchy. I?ve not even come close to accomplishing the things I thought I would with my life. I?m experiencing one DOOZY of a mid-life crisis. I?m terribly lonely, and the traditional ways of meeting someone have never worked for me. I hate the bar scene. I don?t do well in that environment, and have little to offer. I?ve tried personal ads, and never even gotten so much as a single response. The only thing I know is that I have a good heart, and I?m a nice guy in an era where nice guys finish last. It breaks my heart to see so many beautiful girls (both genetic and transgendered) who fall in love with a guy?s pocketbook, only to get badly hurt by an often slimy personality.
There are a lot of support groups out there for the transgendered, as well as for couples where one or both parties are transgendered. But there are NO support groups (at least that I can find) for somebody like me!
So here I am, a lonely heart-broken straight guy who loves transsexuals. The only thing that gets me through each day is the slight ray of hope that the TS angel I?ve hoped for all my life is still out there somewhere…and someday maybe I?ll find her.
I welcome comments and correspondence from anybody. I would especially like to here from all transsexuals, as well as other men who are in the same predicament as me.
Please email me at: ts-lover@earthlink.net. I will answer all emails.