Who is Lucy?

I'm sitting here at the long dark cedar bar drinking a rum and coke, taking in the sparsely inhabited room, people watching as normal as the clock above the display bottles of liquor reads 11:05. I am used to being alone lately, given the current state of affairs. My favorite bar, O'Grady's, keeps the capacity at the recommended occupancy level set by the state.

It is dimly light and quiet more than usual, especially on a friday night. I light a smoke and blow it across the long bar. The young bartender Tommy is at the other end of it chatting up a young and curveous blonde, most likely attending the local university located just a few miles down the main drag.

I am jealous of her. Jealous of her natural beauty. It takes me a lot of work to look as good as I do, not to seem conceded. It seems like little work for her though. Lucky bitch.

I sit here dressed in a classic black dress that comes down to my knees and matching black knee length leather boots. I'm dressed for the season and to hopefully turn a few heads. I act the part well but I know my options are small, even in a big city like ours.

My lacy black pushup bra enhances in all the right places, my smallish B cups enough to draw glances and attention from time to time. My cleaveage is always present, reminding me that I can still attract a man or two. My matching panties keeping everything nice and secure, even if I didn't need to worrry about such things.

"Nice and secure," you'll ask yourself.

You'll find out in due time.

Make up is also perfect. Smokey eyeliner, light foundation, pink lipstick, it all works together quit nicely. You'd think I'd be beating men off with a stick, but in reality, there are setbacks. I'm not what most people would call normal, typical, common.

As much as I try to be who I am, there are setbacks to be seen as anything but. Don't get me wrong I do find my fair share of lovers, though many short lived, but lovers none the less.

Confused yet?

Don't worry, my revelation is coming.

I won't let you dear reader go to long without knowing the truth of who Lucy is, even if the story goes beyond just that. Many layers like a freshly cut onion. Many of my stories will be explained in full detail as time allows. It is a slow burn and far too complex to run through, even if I don't look that complex on the surface.

Am I making any sense?

Probably not. I am not always concise when I speak, even if I do talk pretty clearly and with proper grammer. It is just tough to get what I'm trying to say sometimes, maybe because of fear and or anxiety and self-doubt. That's always an issue too.

Uncertainty in myself.

That's the ugly truth.

I wish it was easier for me to be much more direct and honest at first, pulling away the shear fabric that I hide behind. The young girl at the bar doesn't have that problem. She knows what and who she is and have the confidence to back it up.

Me, well I don't.

A pretty appearance only gets you so far in this world, you need the confidence and ability to let go of the obstacles that have been in your way must quicker. I haven't got to that point yet. But, I am working on it as fast as I can. It just takes time.

I'm still new to all of this.

A young dark haired man suddenly sits down next to me at the bar and smiles. I nod politely and return the smile. His eyes appear to glisten under the dim bar lighting and are immediately drawn to the deep v of the dress to my cleavage.

I can feel the heat coming from his present gaze radiating all over my bare flesh. It is warm and inviting, something nice on a cold evening such as this. He has my attention.

"Hi there," his deep voice booms across the barren barroom.

"Hello," I return, holding up my half-empty tumbler glass of burbon and cola. He has a dark five o'clock shadow and a look of 'I just got out of work from the office' sort of appearance that was common at the bar, especially on a friday night in this part of town.

"Long night," I continue, trying to start a casual conversation. The stranger smiled and nods in his head as he loosens and slowly removes his dark blue tie and sets it on the bar.

"Is it that obvious?"

"Yes, but don't feel bad. You were me three hours ago," I grin and take another sip of my drink. I have always been good at starting ice breakers, it is the long game that I struggle with.

The stranger laughs a hearty laugh.

"What's a sweetheart like you doing in a place like this," he asks, trying not to stumble over his words. Oh gez, he is already laying it on pretty thick. Damn, this was starting out so nice and easy.

He done fucked it up.

"Trying to have a few drinks and relax," I answer, humoring him. I turn my head towards him more and take a drink. His eyes stay on me until I watch they widen more and more.

Here it comes.

"Um," he begins to stammer.

"Um, I have to go to the bathroom."

He grabs his drink and quickly scurries away. Well, there was that. At least he caught it pretty early. Saved me from having to endure any more of cheesy one liners, which was a damn shame because he was pretty damn handsome. But isn't that my luck.

What made him get scared off so fast?

That's pretty easy to answer.

MY ADAM'S APPLE.

It's as easy as that.

As much as I tried to reidentify myself over the years: learning how to wear make up, growing out my hair out long, receiving hormone treatments and injections to change my biological chemistry and that helped me grow a decent size set of breasts.

And of course all the designer clothes I could afford, two things I was born with still remain:

This and what's between my legs.

I am transgender.

Male-to-female obviously.

The process started when I turned 21 and was finally able to come to turns with my reality. I didn't feel like a man, and honestly, never had. I struggled with self-identification from an early age, yet kept it well hidden for many years by maintaining normal heterosexual relationships, and the occasional gay pursuit.

I am 26 now and been transistioned for about four years now, after those hormone injections and a few other treatments throughout the years. The two things I couldn't hide was the Adam's Apple and the one object defining my biological form: the penis.

I didn't want to remove it, mainly because I didn't feel the need to because it never heeded me from having the kind of sex I have been accustomed to having: anal sex.

My penis has always been more of a self-pleasuring thing for me anyways, especially since the failed hetero-relationships came to a screeching halt by the time I had finally got to college and outed myself as gay, which looking back at now was also not true.

I didn't see myself as gay.

I didn't see myself as traditionally straight either.

I never felt comfortable in my own skin. I looked in the mirror and didn't see myself as Lucas. I felt like I was born a lie and didn't know what that meant as a child and as an adolescent.

I also didn't feel gay either, even if I did enjoy being with other boys from the age of 15. When I was with women I didn't feel straight either, I felt like a lesbian which made more sense than being just a heterosexual male. It was always confusing.

Still confused?

You shouldn't be but I'm not surprised if you are. I won't hold that against you, because even when being gay became more and more acceptable, the stigma against transsexual and transgender people still existed, making it still harder to be true to myself.

I wrestled with the idea for much of my highschool and college years until I came to turns with the reality: I wasn't a man. I was biologically but inside myself I knew I never felt that way. I also knew that coming to the realization was going to be difficult, more so with my parents and family especially. It was a conversation that would prove to be the hardest and the most disappointing.

One accepted it and adapted easily and one didn't.

Would you care to wager which parent was which?

You'd be wrong.

My father was surprisingly accepting of it. He was also okay with me coming as falsely gay a few years earlier too. He is sort of a hippie and pretty liberal thinking. He said he wasn't shocked by either revelation, knowing that even when I was young that I was different from most boys, sensitive and emotional and not one to go by normal and conventional boy behavior.

My mother on the other hand wasn't accepting, which didn't really surprise me at all. We have a problematic backstory full of various issues including mental and emotional abuse over the years.

Let's just say we don't talk.

It is what it is.

Even with the support of my father, some family members and a few friends, I decided to leave the small town where I was living and moved to the big city three years ago. It is a lot easier to blend in, but there are some narrow minded individuals like my most recent encounter. It happens, it comes with the territory.

It doesn't mean that I have to accept it.