I remember a scene from Stone Butch Blues. I think Jess Goldberg is on the subway, and a woman asks her male friend--I'll call him her boyfriend--if Goldberg is a guy or a girl. The boyfriend asks Jess directly and receives the hostile reply, "F*** off." The boyfriend then turns to the girlfriend and says, "It's a guy." I love that passage.
I was at the Center the other day for a trans meeting. I almost didn't go but changed my mind at the last minute because a friend of mine had promised to be there (he didn't show). So we were filing downstairs, and I saw that one of the men from my gay men's discussion group was volunteering for another event. I don't know if he saw me; and even if he saw me, perhaps he didn't know what meeting I was at. If he did see me and knows about the trans meeting, I don't think he would be so bold as to ask me, at the next men's meeting, if I'm trans. But you never know.
Anyway, I don't see how I can maintain this balancing act for much longer. I go to gay meetings and trans meetings under the same roof. Sooner or later, one of the gay men is going to figure it out (if someone hasn't already). For most of my life, I've wanted to be just one of the gay guys. Now I'm there, and I don't want them to see me any differently if they find out about my past.
I don't think a snappy comeback is going to help me one little bit. The real problem is me, I guess. I'm still insecure about my masculinity. I hate that. And the real kicker? In this particular respect--my insecurity, not my transness--I'm no different from a lot of American men. Maybe most of them.