More years ago than I care to admit, I remember watching a movie called "Outrageous". I think the story (or at least part of it) was set in Toronto and it revolved around a very flamboyant drag queen and a mentally unstable young woman.

At that time in my life, I was seizing upon every source of info I could find out about transgenderism and cross dressing. But one of the problems that took me so long to resolve was that by nature, I am a fairly conservative, plain vanilla person. Of course, the rest of the world saw me as a good boy with a bit of a mischievious streak. Deep down, I was really a good girl. Alas, the need to be obedient, accepted and liked (submissive, feminine traits in society at large) was confronted with the message that the direction I desired was considered aberrant, weird, sleazy and ... outrageous. The passive response to confrontation and conflict? Do nothing or run away.

What were the other sources of information about the TG and CD world when I was progressing from my teenage years do young adulthood? Well, there was the occasional movie or TV show, but one of the first, regular connections to that world were the little ads in the newspaper (the conservative one in NYC, mind you, not the liberal NY Times) for the Burlesque Houses that included or featured drag queens among their performers. So often I would look at those ads and want to attend and hope that I would find out how to look like a glamorous woman. (It was only years later that I would find out about the family structure within the drag world and how I might have been adopted as a drag daughter had I gone.) But I never found the courage to go. The only time I was able to do so was when I was in New Orleans for Mardi Gras. Away from home where no one would know me, or if by some amazing coincidence someone did see me - well it was Mardi Gras and you do things you don't do anywhere and anytime else.

I can remember going in just as a dancer was finishing her set. Quite frankly, she was still a bit masculine or neuter in appearance. Then Vera went on stage. I will never forget her. She was gorgeous, talented and sexy. Her face was feminine and she had curves in all the right places. She must have noticed the enthralled look on my face, because I was the first customer she approached when she finished her set. Her voice was more than passable - very feminine sounding, in fact. I was now even more enchanted with her.

I paid for some of her time and drinks at a table in the back and then as she put on a "private" dance for me. We were separated by a piece of plexiglass up to shoulder height. High enough so I could kiss her and pay her, but nothing more. As I was running out of funds, I tried to get her to come back to my hotel with me where I had more money. She was interested until she found out where I was staying: one of the top line hotels on Canal Street. Anxiety came across her face. She feared being stopped by hotel security. I tried to persuade her but to no avail. I guess her shift was ending, so she got dressed and went out into the night. No other dancer interested me now, but by the time I got out the door, she was lost in the tourist crowd on Bourbon Street.

Once again, fear was associated with the TG world in my mind.

Some might think that I was exhibiting fairly typical male behavior that night. I had taken the male role in an encounter with a "working girl". A bit of an explanation of where I was in my life at that time: I was 33 years old by now, and while it had taken awhile to get my career off the ground, I was now finally moving up in the business world and on the right track for a successful career. So while femme impuises could not be completely stifled, for the most part they took a back seat to the demands of my professional life.

Looking back on it now, I think that somewhere in the back of my mind I felt that if I couldn't be a woman, the next best thing was to be with a woman like me. And of course, my plain vanilla side would demand that she be totally passable. Nevertheless, a few days later my plane touched down back home and I was quickly enmeshed back in my workaday world, returning phone calls to clients and looking to make money. Somewhere in the deepest catacombs of my mind, if I dared to look there, was the fantasy that if I ever made enough money, I could quit and become the girl of my dreams. I never reached that unspecified level of income.

Now some of you reading this know about "tranny chasers". And you might also have the opinion that behind every "tranny chaser" lurks a "tranny wannabe". In my case, the wannabe had not lurked behind. It had led the way.

I have more to say about sources of TG info in my younger days and how it relates to the way I kept in contact with my TG desires throughout the years. But once again, I have written more than I expected and it is getting late. But I will continue this thread soon.

Love, Lois