Anyway, having like zero trans-contacts in my own damn country I decided to give it a shot. I checked their website only to find out the next meeting was merely days away. This made me nervous as I don’t do well with deadlines, self-imposed or otherwise.

I really wanted to try this so I sent them an email asking what the procedure was for attending for the first time and got a (long) reply back saying it was perfectly fine to just drop by though this specific time was going to be a little different. They were having a barbecue and there would be no speaker this time around. This sounded pretty good to me, so my mind was made up and I was going to go.

Now, what to wear? I considered going Goth, not for shock value but because it makes me feel comfortable, but it was a very hot and sunny day so I decided to go with the black and pink look instead. It’s a look I have become skilled in pulling off so I figured that would be best. Also for any possible makeup fixings throughout the day.

Getting there was a drag, relying on public transport really sucks and the bus ride especially is the worst part. It takes forever. A woman stepped on the bus a few stops later and sat in the seat in front of me. Now, I would swear she was also a transsexual and I figured on her way to the meeting as well but a few stops later she got off the bus. Maybe I was projecting because it was in my mind but I was dead sure. Odd.

When I finally got to Transvisie I was briefly introduced to everyone. There were probably about 30 people there, of all ages and sizes (heh), though I couldn’t help feeling like the kid at a grown ups party. This feeling didn’t go away at all throughout the entire thing. Not uncommon for me as I’m far from a normal person, and not because I am a transsexual either. I’m quite weird by nature and somewhat childlike (more on this in a later blog entry).

I did talk to a bunch of people but for a large part stood outside at the actual barbecue and talked to the people there and the ones smoking around the corner. In fact, most of my actual conversations where with the foreigners. Typical. I did not manage to make a single noteworthy connection to anyone at all though.

Not because I didn’t try, but because they were simply not my kind of people. I don’t really fit in. There were a few exceptions but I didn’t get to talk to them enough. Maybe another time as I do plan on going back every once in a while, just to see who else might show up. If I can make only one friend it would be nice.

There were a few that remembered me from the Transgender information evening a few months ago. Some even asked if the girl I was with was my girlfriend, because we were holding hands and stuff. Realizing they were talking about my daughter Lynda I had to explain that fact to them and that I am well over twice her age. Though I took it as a compliment. What woman minds people thinking you are younger than you really are?

So was it a failure? Not entirely. I did go and once again overcame one of my fears. Which is something I have been actively working on for a while now. Did I gain something out of it though? Hardly. Honestly, in that respect it was a total disaster and a complete waste of time. I’m sure for a lot of them it’s a great thing, and they enjoy being together and socialize but I myself need something different. What that is I do not know exactly yet but I am determined to find out.

After all was done and I went on my way home I had this feeling of dread come over me. I did not want to go home. I’m tired of being home all the damn time, it’s not where I want to be.

Now I’m sure you are all screaming “So go do something!” but the fact is that for one, I am poor, extremely so, and for two, the places near me that I could go out to suck immensely. They are filled with, again, not my kind of people. Third, if I went to some place out in the city it would mean having to leave at a stupidly early hour because I rely on public transport and got to catch that last bus. Sucks when most good stuff doesn’t start until 9 or 10 at night. This is where I consider moving to the city again, or at the very least get a boyfriend with a car.

The bus driver on the way home very overtly hit on me though, that felt good. When I got home though, I cried. Emotional overload. I was alone. Again. As always. I hate it!