Mile-End Two

This is the 2nd 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.

 I'm not allowed? or what?

I took the initiative to clean the toilet since it had remained gross since I moved into this shelter a month and a half ago. Apparently, one of the five dudes I have to share the toilet in the hall with is over 80 years old, he might be the one who splashes his shit all over. Really gross. I have to live here.

So the other day I come in from my lingering in the park with a big need to pee and I come up to, again a messy toilet. No time to clean, I sit on one hip and pee, then go to my shelter two doors down, pick up my disinfecting kit and go at it. I do a complete job, get noticed doing so by the handyman who, I understand it then, is also one of those dirtying the floor and sink by using it as a service sink while he’s working on things.

Anyways the word got out very quickly to the managing couple who now love me.

That’s a very good thing because most of the 64 other tenants of this 65 room building, that I didn’t choose to live in, kind of hate me. I’m trying to define what it is, either in my behavior but most likely the way I dress, that shocks people so much that I hear comments all along the streets as I walk, oh’s and ahh’s, and stunned looks, just like when I meet the 64 other tenants of this place.

I see many girls dressed the same style I am: not too revealing crop top, shorty shorts and black sneakers. It seems ok for them, maybe some dudes are tempted to comment as they go by but would look like old pervs if they did. So they don’t. The girls are powerful in Québec, in Montréal. Dudes don’t comment on the sexy girls.

But they comment on me, with frowning eyes. I live it constantly, plus dudes who offer me sex with explicit details on what they would do to me, others simply thinking I’m working the street, since I show my legs and it’s like… past midnight… or sometimes 2:00 pm on a sunny Saturday WTF dude, I ain’t working, I’m just a regular citizen talking a walk.

There are many sexy girls out there, very lightly dressed, walking along with me on the same sidewalk. On Friday nights, corner of Main and Mt-Royal… that’s where youngsters started to hang out since the Covid pandemic, just by the now closed Belmont Bar, a popular discotheque for decades. It all seems ok for them young girls to be dressed with sexy tops and jeans shorts, but it’s not for me. Even them young girls show a strange face when I pass by them; they unsure what to think, they probly like my clothes, but just find weird I’d be wearing them… what am I?

Obviously, for them, for most people who see me in the street, I cannot be a normal person. I’m a man who wears women’s clothing, girlies’ clothes, even. Well I show my legs, and the crop top shows my flat belly. I know my body is right down sexy, I’m tall and slim, just like a top model would be, with very little breasts… well actually, too little.

Anyways, I manage. I mean I manage to try to look sexy, the only way I know to look like a woman. I guess I… always liked that kind of clothes. I was wearing pretty much the same things when I was like 30, and hetero guy.

Well that’s the thing, you see: was I a hetero guy? I was trying, and claiming to be just that…

If people see me as a whore now, according to what I wear, that makes me a whore.

What I claim to be now isn’t recognised at all: a woman, a trans woman, and that’s just like when I was presenting as, or pretending to be a hetero guy, and not being recognized as such. Probably most people back then when I was 30 some saw me as a gay guy. I know the gay gys did think I was gay too. 

So… what I’m saying is it’s difficult to be recognised as what we claim to be, no matter what we are, it’s mostly the peers’ perception that makes us what we are, more than anything else.

And it’s difficult to have control at how the others see us. I cannot project what I am strong enough so to convince the others, I never was able to do that, never ever.

So, most people see me as a man who dresses with girly clothes, or a whore,a transvestite male whore. That’s not what I am at all, it isn’t what I claim to be (some would argue it’s what my clothes say but I disagree, the same on a girl is ok, I see it on the street), but still, that’s how most see me, and it’s neither what I claim to be neither what I am.

Is that the difference? I noticed I get more reactions when I’m showing my flat belly. I’m very slim. My legs are long and some girls obviously envy them as we wait for the green light to cross the street under the sun.

But it’s the belly, and my lower back I guess too. I notice this is what get guys excited a lot. And, uhhhh.... I remember when I was a hetero guy checking out girls, I remember the flat belly effect on my groin… the lower back… with low rise shorts…

Anyways, I guess I’m just now allowed to be trans, to be a woman, I don’t pass enough… I don’t know.

Monday night, I will go to a trans meeting, I need support. Things have been pretty harsh recently. I have not a doctor nor a prescription anymore, and I found out on Friday that it’s going to be a very hard and long process to get a specialist, an endocrinologist.

Last night I got again hit on by this dude, a black guy, originally from France, I guess his parents from Somalia… Anyways he’s a very nice guy, but he had his hands all over me the first time we met after not even 2 minutes, explaining what he’d do to me, and detailing his huge engine. Well he shouldn’t have LoL,, said it hat a fat 10 incher. That’s too big for me.

For a first time. I never did it with a man yet. I’m bisexual ‘cause videos get me excited, but I must say I’m kind of paralysed when a dude offers it. I’d like to but…

The dude from last night is probably a homeless, he hangs out with them at the table at the center of the park. missing many teeth… dirty finger nails… Too dirty, I don’t want to start with that… kind of clientele.

I don’t know, my situation is desperate, I do need more money, and I don’t care if I have to give sex in exchange, as long as it can be good, and not aggressive. I have absolutely no bias against prostitution, I think working 40 hours a week for a poor salary is prostitution anyways.

But I’d like to chose the dudes. I was thinking of getting on some network with a nice pic of me… But I cannot get a nice pic of me. I don’t look that nice on pics, I’m not photogenic.

Anyways I’m losing the point. The point I wanted to make is the following: we are what other people think we are, unless one can get his or her own projection of themselves overcome whatever the others could have been thinking. 

I realized too late in life we need to create a character in society to be recognised, whether you lie or not in order to get a good projection of yourself.

Well I don’t project. The only way I can project is by holding a flag, or with my clothing I guess, or the fact that I’m typing quite fast on a computer laptop at the park, and like… non stop. So it shows I know how to write many words rapidly.

I’m not sure I’m very interesting today, and not saying anything about my state of mind right now.

I’m really on the verge of… nothing. There is nothing ahead. I’m also going through a heartbreak, une peine d’amour. I’m being rejected by everyone, most of my family, my ancient friends who are not my friends anymore… The new friends I had mad recent years.... Everyone is pushing me away; seems like their interest in me was… in one direction or I don't know how to say.

That’ll be enough for today, maybe just a foreplay to what I should be writing

Dominique Rock