I realise that the title is a little cryptic so I will try to explain.
I have wondered what it would be like to meet someone who knew and liked me as a guy, who was a somewhat ambivalent to gender diverse people and who could meet the real me and sit and talk.
This afternoon it happened.
I arrived in Australia just over 40 years ago, alone and free. I was lucky enough to start work straight away and people were laid back enough to accept a long haired androgynous liverpudlian with my unintelligible accent. That is to say I was ignored.
There was a guy at my place of work who was a caricature of the Aussie bloke: tall, sun-tanned, blond, good looking, funny, popular, irreverent, hard working and a genuine nice guy. He took me under his wing, or should it be I latched on to him like a drowning limpet. Whatever, we became friends and we had great times.
He introduced me as a new pom to his friends, introduced me to footy and pie floaters (don't ask!), helped me with navigating a new country and was a life saver to this newbie in a foreign country.
We shared many things except of course THE SECRET. Like many Aussie males of his time and age gender diversity was something that existed in salacious magazines and provided amusement in Kings Cross Drag shows. It wasn't something that happened with real people, normal people - people like you and I.
He was pretty conservative for an Aussie; country born and bred. City folk and their ideas were edges to be worn in, not to be honed off. He was married when I met him and I met and married my beautiful wife, who knew Cindy and accepted her. In retrospect this made all of my past friendships disappear; Cindy was happy and so why make an effort to keep friends?
Life moves on, the things that will never happen to you happened to me.
Last week I got an email. 'Do you remember me? I met an old friend who told me about your cancer, I was wondering if I could come visit you? Can you speak? I'd love to catch up if possible.
The email had bounced around several times, possibly because the address was under my dead name, then it was resent by a mutual friend with a message - "I haven't told him about your new name nor your gender change."
We met this afternoon. I invited him to my house and told him there had been profound physical changes since we had last met. He said he understood and hoped I was OK.
He was thinking the changes were from cancer treatment. He met Cindy for the first time as I opened the front door.
We talked for over 2 hours. As old friends do, we picked up on 25 year old comments as if they were the last sentance spoken. His concern for my health was obvious, his admiration for my strength in recovery was lovely. I enjoyed the afternoon and his company.
As I walked him to the door to leave he made the only comment on the past. 'The last time we met you were trying to be P****,'. He then gave me a kiss on the cheek and left.
It was a lovely afternoon and we will catch up again soon.
