This past week has really been hell, and yet, I wouldn’t have traded it for the world, for by all the madness of my week, I have fallen in love in a way that I have never felt before.
I will try and make a long story short but I probably won’t. Anyway, on Tuesday I had a major meltdown at work which brought me to the edge of being terminated, but love intervened and saved me from sabotage for one more time in my work life.
Without getting into detail what transpired, I had a little mishap backing into a fellow employee’s SUV which, by company policy, would have been immediate grounds for termination. I went on to complete a delivery and when I returned, I went inside and inquired of several employees, whose vehicle it was. When I determined who owned the SUV, in a panic and sobbing profusely, I led her out to her SUV to survey the damage. I had actually done more damage to my own car, breaking a taillight lens while her car had suffered a few minor scrapes to her bumper. She looked at it and said “Don’t worry about it, its just a car” and she escorted me back inside where the supervisor on duty, told me to sit and drink some water and relax. I told her that I needed to leave early but my supervisor said that I shouldn’t try to drive home in my present condition.
Now this being my first job as Deanna, I set out to cultivate friendships with the other employees and have always come to work with a smile and a good word for everyone.
Because my life this past year has been joyful beyond anything I had ever felt before, I have had plenty enough Joy to spare. Now here I was in a moment of extreme vulnerability, in a panic, and yet I could feel the love and concern for my well-being all around me.
I had to rush home and try and glue all the pieces of my broken taillight because I needed to go back into work for a mandatory staff meeting and what I didn’t need was to be stopped by a cop for driving with a broken taillight. In the two hours that I had, I miraculously managed to superglue all the pieces except for a couple, put the taillight back in, and returned to work, my fingers still covered with superglue. When I got there, I saw my new girlfriend that I had developed a bond with, who shared with me a few days before that she was lesbian, and next time we had a quiet moment together at work, I told how I had let people at work think I was lesbian whose “partner” was a she, which of course was the truth, and that had passed away in the first week of work. I then told her that I was in fact, transgender. She said that she would never have guessed.
Being that she had not been on duty and the staff meeting being around closing time, she was wearing a dress and heels instead of her regular uniform, and I, knowing she was lesbian with me still attracted to women as a woman , fell madly in love with her. I was talking to her about the superglue on my hands and she being just another girl like myself, had suggested I use nail polish remover, of which I told her I already had thought and tried, but hadn’t been able to pull off the glue any easier in the short space of time after I had fixed the taillight and returned to work. I felt a bit nervous when I asked if I could sit next to her, with my fingers covered with superglue, and throughout the meeting I was afraid to catch her eye, as I was feeling like a schoolgirl who had a crush on someone and was feeling the rush of endorphins that made me feel like my heart was going to burst right out of my chest.
After our second little talk when I told her my secret, we had made a tenative plan to get together on Saturday, and she told me she would text me on Saturday if she got called in on her day off, because one of the topics of the meeting was that she had been promoted to a shift supervisor. That meant that she would now be my boss when we were on the same shift together. I was genuinely happy for her when the announcement was made because I had already demonstrated over the days and weeks of working, that I took the time to acknowledge everyone with a friendly smile, a warm touch and a lilt in my practiced female voice.
On Saturday, I was feeling a little ragged, after all, I had been to hell in back at least two more times since that Tuesday, with each incident ending in a feeling of deeper love and a connection to other women, a real sisterhood like I had never felt before in my life before I came to be Deanna and what I had so craved when I came out a year ago. I managed to get out of bed around ten and I texted my new heartthrob and went about making myself a sumptuous breakfast, which has now become my favorite meal of the day, and then puttering about the house until after 3, still in PJs, when I received a text back from her. She apologized to me for having not gotten back to me sooner, because she had been exhausted and had finally been able to get caught up on some much need rest. I texted back that she needn’t have to apologize and that I was actually happy and content that she had been able to take care of herself. She texted back to thank me for being so sweet. I responded to ask if there was still a possibility that we could get together that day and she responded that she had loaned her car to her girlfriend and that she didn’t think it would be possible. Instead of feeling disappointed I told her that she forgot that I had a car and that I could come to her. and we set a date for five pm, which I said would give me time to dress and “pretty myself up” and she said that she would have time to get ready for our meetup. I was on cloud nine that I could see her and be with her and tell her how I really felt about her.
When I got to the apartment complex where she lived I had to figure out which building she lived in and how to find her apartment. I had noticed that the first building I passed that the four-digit number on the ground floor started with two ones which meant that the next building either followed with 2’s or skipped to the odd number 3, which it did. The first floor were numbered beginning with 31 which told me that she was on the second floor, so I walked around the building until I got to her number with a 31 before and easily located her apartment by just following the logical pattern in the numbering system. I was quite proud of myself for being able to intuitively find her apartment with so little difficulty, which is quite new to me as the sharp girl I have now let myself be.
I had decided to bring her gifts, a red rose carved out of wood that I had bought myself a few days before and a bottle of red wine. I presented my gifts to her like a teenage boy on his first date, for I had started my transition the year before, feeling like a teenage virgin girl in the ways of learning how to negotiate the rite of passage into womanhood. Here I was, nervous as a schoolgirl, but I pulled off that first move with aplomb and I settled down on a kitchen chair, as did she, as she explained she had just moved in with her girlfriend just the week before and hadn’t gotten all of her furniture yet.
I immediately got into the topic of her telling me before that she was lesbian and that I then said that I wasn’t sure if she told me that she was currently in a relationship. She told me she was and for a moment, my heart sank. Still I mustered up the courage to tell her how seeing her and being with her made me feel but that I had no expectations that she felt anything more for me than our friendship. I was at my most vulnerable moment in this whole affair, yet I immediately began to relax and just chat with her like two girlfriends. The next few hours were mostly me telling her about all the things I had learned in my transition and we just got to sit there and talk and enjoy each others’ company.
Now I have had a number of situations back in the days before I met my wife and began a thirty year life partnership, when I had fallen for a girl and had mustered up the courage to tell the girl how I felt about her and each time I met the feeling of rejection head on which often would last for weeks of feeling sorry for myself.
This time was quite different, for I had come to be with her without expectations, as I told her how much I cared about her happiness. When I finally left, which I managed to stretch out by talking about this or that, I went home not feeling rejected or feeling sorry for myself, for I had finally learned the meaning of true love, which is no longer just about how I feel, but is about having the space to love someone unconditionally, as I do for her. I found out for myself that I am perfectly fine with knowing that she is happy and that I can feel nothing but the love that comes with truly caring for another person, with no expectation of reciprocation.
I have fallen madly in love with myself when I started living as a woman and I am as much in love with her as I had felt before I learned where we now stood with each other.
But more importantly, I have now finally learned the meaning of true love, for the first time.