Mile-End Four

This is the 4th blog post about me, a not so passable but still very sexy mature transsexual woman wandering in the streets of Montréal, Québec after landing in a shitty small room in a 65 room building following an eviction for renovations...

and after spending most time after transition locked away inside the apartment where I lived since 2015 and that I had to leave in a rush on July 5, 2021. It's not necessarily written in a chronological order, and I might (so it seems) be repeating myself. Excuse my English: not my 1st language. 

Luxury Shelter

I live with the poors, out on the street and in different parks every day, spending 14 hours outside most days since July 5.

In the neighbourhood where I hang out, where my luxury shelter is, the Mile-End, I pretty much met all of them by now. Beggars, homeless people, simply unemployed, poor and having nothing to do, and living in a small room like mine… Picking up empty cans and bottles all day, some do it very seriously and systematically, others not at all.

They’re nice people, most of them, and very respectful. Really! Society denies them for they look dirty and are obviously NOT in the same world as they are, busy, having lunch at the park with a colleague, waiting for the bus or for the green light to cross the intersection.

“Would you spare change please, madam? Do you have a cigarette. Have a good day”

Annoying for most people, and they don’t even get close to them, for fear of diseases, fleas or bedbugs. But enough of them spare some change so that they can go on.

There is one on the corner of Saint-Urbain and Saint-Joseph, he works hard every day, offering a windshield wipe, very respectfully. He told me he spent last two winters outside but is working on a plan to avoid that this year. I think I saw him sleep on a porch on Laurier Street, around 1:00 am one night. He says he does enough to survive. He greets me “Bonjour madame”, every day with a smile. His workplace is right between my luxury shelter and the nearest park where I hang out most.

Or anyways, that was before… I don’t go as much in parc Lahaie anymore, since one of the homeless there hit on me constantly, appreciating my sexy slim body that apparently, according to him, I show because I want sex.

No, I wear light clothes because it’s very hot outside. I’m only wearing short shorts, just like many other girls on the street.

Well I guess since most people see me as something else than a woman, and once again (I wrote about this in the previous posts)... I’m not allowed to wear these “normally”, in their mindset, their system of thoughts, of arranging things. In their mind, since I wear these, I’m not a “normal” person.

And that gives them rights over me, the right to catcall me (one actually meowed at me, minutes ago), which is very uncommon nowadays in Montréal for “normal” women, and to comment on my style, my clothes, on my state… my condition, whatever, I mean how they classify me in their head.

So anyways, these were the three most fantastic days of the year, weather wise, and therefore, everything else wise. The heatwave is ending tonight, and unless September has something in reserve, we’ll slowly head to Fall weather, and quickly Winter.

And it looks like I’m going to have to stay here, remain in my luxury shelter. I finally tamed the shower and toilet in the hallway, cleaned them up, so it’s the 3rd day of a heatwave, but I took showers, I’m freshly washed in the park now and I feel great.

I have a small refrigerator and will do grocery later on with the last 30$ on my Visa, and I will cook me meat and stuff that I’m planning to keep me fed until I get more money in like two weeks, actually more… I’ll need to borrow.

So my situation is much better than that of those I live along… Well actually, I often try to avoid them too. They’re not very interesting. They have nothing ahead, that’s the thing. All in the past. (well they’re a lot in the here and now, and their here and now is boring: he stole me a beer the other day, I told him to watch out for him… whatever, their conversations are right down boring, but they are nice people anyways).

I try to avoid that. The past. More and more. I’m running away from my past life, I’m a trans woman now, I cannot have had girlfriends nor even worse, have been a father. It’s such a nonsense in people’s head that I’m learning to avoid talking about my past.

But I’m old. Estrogen made me look much younger (well I alway looked younger than my age but estrogen really gave me another couple years younger looking, fading away the wrinkles).

I’m old, that’s another category… There are the homeless and the poors, but also there are other categories of people who are set apart by Society. Irrelevant people.

I tried once again to get into a roommate ship, had some kind of an interview with a bunch of youngsters drinking fancy drinks with mint leaves in them.

It’s no use, I’m in the ‘old folks’ category. The slope is too hard to climb again. The only way I’m going to live with youngsters again is if I get my own apartment and rent rooms. But it has become impossible for me to do that. I’m too poor, the prices of the rents and red tape all around the leasing of them, credit check and all… is too much.

I can’t stand to be old. I don’t want that.

So I’m down to my luxury shelter. I have to get used to it.

But about me being a transsexual woman, I now more or less understand the place that Society is leaving me, I think I can manage with that. Problem is Society is pushing me aside mostly because I’m old, and there is nothing I can do about that.

I have so much problems ahead, such a black hole ahead, I don’t have a prescription for estrogen anymore, I’m in need of a doctor, a specialist, anyone… And that’s another steep slope.

It would be possible for me to find a man who can offer me either a space to grow, either 400$ of pot every month. It is. my legs rock, my slim body is very hot, some dudes get very excited seeing me on the street, especially if I show my belly, flat firm belly. I could put an ad on a network… Many Boomers are so bored… and have money.

This is confronting me now: I can take that step, I mean go in that direction. Just uhhhh…. the type of guy who hit on me so far, is… I’m not sure. I was hoping for better.

So I’m facing myself: I can go all the way, be a woman and cook for a dude and have sex with him. It’s possible if I’m really seeking that.

Am I seeking that?

Dominique Rock