|(ASIDE) I made this website mostly for my own benefit, almost like a type of self-therapy. I don't really
expect people to pay much attention to it. If they do, then wonderful. Enjoy your stay. I recently heard
from several people that not only do they frequent this website, but they also enjoy reading my diary
entries. This comes as a complete shock to me. I wasn't sure if many people even knew this website
existed, much less visited it on a regular basis. And, I assumed, if they did come here, it was mainly to look
at my copious pictures. Therefore, I am pleasantly surprised to know that you also enjoy reading about my
simple, uninteresting life. Knowing that now, I will make a concerted effort to post diary entries more
frequently (and less lengthy), not only when there are major milestones in my life. Thanks again to
everyone for reading and taking an interest. As always, feedback is welcome and encouraged. (END OF
March 30, 2013:
I debated in my mind a long time about whether or not to write about this experience since it's not all
glowing positive things that happened. After some deliberation, I decided that it would be irresponsible of
me to not write about it. Now let's be clear. I don't consider myself a role model or an inspiration to the
trans community or to any trans-girls out there. The truth of the matter is, I happen to be blessed with
physical features that make passing as a woman easier than for many others. I try to always be
responsible with this gift and to remain humble about it. I've also tried to use my experiences to help guide
other tgirls in their path, no matter what their individual paths may be. I don't consider myself an expert on
transitioning or an authority on how to be more passable. That said, my experiences can serve as a useful
tool for others. And for that reason, I'm going to write about what happened tonight, because my missteps
are every bit as helpful as my positive leaps forward. If I only wrote about the good stuff, all I would be
doing is stroking my ego and that shouldn't be what this website is about.
ANYWAY, after that long prologue, here's the actual story of what happened.
People are always telling me how passable I am and if they met me at a bar, they wouldn't think twice about
me as anything other than a girl. I've always taken all of that as either (a) them telling me what I wanted to
hear because they were attracted to me, or (b) their skewed opinion based on my passability as compared
to other tgirls. But after hearing something enough times, I finally began to believe it and I'd been itching
for a while to test it out for real.
After getting all prettied up and then going to the mall and then going to the Renaissance meeting, I didn't
want the evening to end so quickly. It was Easter weekend, so I decided to do a little bar hopping. (Sorry,
stupid Easter Bunny joke that most of you probably didn't even get and I'm just making it worse by trying
to explain it.) After I left the rest of the girls from the Ren meeting for the night, I went to the Fox and
Hound at the KOP mall, basically just to see if I could get someone to hit on me. That bar was pretty dead
so after one drink and no one giving me the slightest attention, I exited.
I felt like that wasn't a very conclusive test. I needed a larger sample size, so I decided to go somewhere
where I knew would be packed. That place turned out to be the Irish Pub in Center City Philadelphia.
Once I arrived, the bar was indeed packed. I showed my new photo ID with my girl pic to get in. I think
the bouncer definitely noticed the "M" for my gender on it because he gave me a look up and down as
walked past him. So already my cover was blown but I'm sure (or am hoping) that he wouldn't let my little
I eventually found an empty seat at the bar and sat by myself and ordered a beer. To paint a complete
picture of the scene, I'll tell you that I was wearing a short sleeve red silk button down blouse, a black
pencil skirt, nude nylons, and short black heels. Maybe a little dressy for a bar, but definitely nothing too
After a few minutes, a guy stands next to me at the bar. He tells me his name and I try to tell him my
name but the music is so loud and, because I'm insecure about my femme voice, I can't talk that loudly. I
eventually am able to tell him my name is Madeline. He asks me if I'm here for spring break. I tell him
that I'm just hanging out. Did he really think I was young enough to still be in college? (hee hee)
We have a conversation back and forth. Turns out he's a music teacher. I tell him that I play the drums a
little bit. So far so good. Maybe people were right, maybe I'm as passable as they say. As we're chatting,
his two buddies behind him are snickering and keep trying to get him to leave. He tries to get them to back
off and continues to converse with me.
After some more of his friends' urging, he finishes his beer and is about to leave. I wanted to give him a
farewell handshake, but instead he leans in for a hug. I hugged him back and gave him a little peck on his
face. Before he leaves, his friends must have finally let them in on what was so funny to them. He turns to
me and asks "Are you a girl?" Those four words cut me right to the bone.
Without a beat, I reply, "Of course I'm a girl." Then I look away. Then I turn back and ask, "Don't I look
like a girl?"
He replied very sincerely, "You're very pretty." And with that we said our goodbyes and parted ways.
I couldn't believe how quickly I can go from being in a euphoric high to hitting close to rock bottom sad. I
felt bad about lying to him but I thought it was the most prudent thing to do. I'd always told myself and my
friends that I would never try to trick someone into believing I was a genetic girl, and I always assumed
that it would never be an issue because who would ever mistake me for a genetic girl. If he's out there and
somehow finds this website (I did tell him my name and a simple Google search for Madeline and
crossdresser will lead him quickly to this website), I sincerely want to apologize for deceiving you. I never
would have let things progress too far. If you asked for my number, I would have told you I was already
seeing someone. And I would never let things get physical between us. But I figured a conversation was
harmless enough. In that situation, telling the truth would have been a lose-lose for everyone. He would
have been embarrassed and endured endless ribbing from his friends. I probably would have been in the
middle of a really bad scene. So that's why I lied. It wasn't the right thing to do, it was the cowardly thing
to do. I'm both ashamed that I didn't tell you the truth as soon as we started talking or when you asked me
I sat by myself at the bar for a while longer, both to contemplate what had just happened and to make sure
he and his friends were long gone by the time I exited. I definitely did not want to confront them again on
the street. I wonder if his friends really knew about me, maybe because the bouncer clued them in, or if
they read me because, in fact, I'm not as passable as everyone keeps telling me I am. I'd like to think that
on their way home, his friends kept trying to convincing him that he had been hitting on a dude based only
on observational evidence and that he conversely kept trying to convince them that they're out of their
minds and that I was indeed a real girl.
So what do I take out of this experience? The glass-half-empty part of me tells me that I'm probably never
going to be 100% passable to everyone. I'm fighting basic genetics like my height, my big hands, my
Adam's apple, etc. Even if my face is very passable, all those other factors at least leads people to
question what my true gender is. However, the glass-half-full part of me tells me that though I may not be
100% passable to 100% of the population, I am still pretty darned passable. If his friends hadn't clued him
in, he never would have suspected. And we were having a good conversation and we were both genuinely
enjoying each other's company up until the very end. Not too shabby for a tgirl who hasn't had any
surgeries done or taken any hormones yet and only dresses once or twice a week.
Despite the devastating way the evening ended, I pretty much got the conclusion I was looking for even
though it wasn't the conclusion I was hoping for. I can pass pretty well in main stream public but I shouldn't
be surprised if I still get read every once in a while, especially if I'm wearing an outfit specifically for the
purpose of drawing attention to myself. The more eyes on me, the greater the chances of getting read.
Needless to say, I won't be bar hopping at straight bars again, at least not solo.
(I know I said above that these entries going forward would be less lengthy but this was kinda a milestone
realization event so I hope you'll forgive me.)