I am glad the summer is over. For the last 30 years, my family has had a summer beach bungalow in Rockaway, NY, home to one of the highest concentrations of Irish Catholics in the US. There is nothing wrong with that except it is very conservative, with outbursts of Trump supporters waving flags on their lawns.
When I thought I was cisgender, I thought I fit in...kind of...ok, not really, but I never knew why.
Now I know.
My wife and I found a comfortable compromise so we can stay together. Anyone who has kept up with my boring monologue on this website knows that I decided that presenting as cisgender hurts less than fully transitioning and destroying the most important person in my life. It is my firm decision, and it works, except in the summer when I feel like I am drowning in a pool of social testosterone.
During the summer, I am the guy's guy. Everyone here knows what I mean. We have all done the role.
I actually have fun during the summer. My wife and I laugh every day together. She is as angry with the Trumpites as I am, but most are great neighbors. They would do anything for you, but we know that if I came out, it would all be at an end.
We both don't want it.
But there are those moments when I just want to scream, you all know why, but fortunately, the summer is over. We are back in Brooklyn, with big neighborhoods and a great blend of people, who don't need to know your business.
I got a pedicure where the women all know me as Emma and missed me. I start teaching again at the LGBTQ school. I am going to meet up with my girlfriend, Jenn, who will tell me about her new boyfriend, and go shopping with me.
I other words, I get back to normal and Emma gets out of hiding.
