Man Enough

by Beth Burnett

  “I can’t imagine what that must have been like for you.”

  “It was horrendous. But, when I was fifteen, I met a group of lesbians who published an alternative paper up there. I started writing for them. And for the first time, I felt as if I had almost found a community. I couldn’t be a boy, but I could be a dyke. So, I came out as a lesbian and started dressing like a butch.”

  I remember nodding my head. I don’t think I spoke at that point.

  “It was easier after that. My father was horrified, but I was older by then and there wasn’t much he could do. We just kind of stayed out of each other’s way for the next few years until I could move out of the house. As I told you before, I traveled some, took some odd jobs until I could support myself with my writing. Eventually, through my ties in the various gay communities, I met other trans people. It was the first time I put a name to what I was. But as soon as I knew, I really knew. There was no going back at that point.”

  He had stopped then to look at me. “Davey, are you still with me.”

  “Yes,” I whispered against his neck. “I’m still here.”

  “Am I scaring you?”

  “No, I want you to tell me.”

  “If I tell you too much at once, stop me, please. I don’t want to … I don’t know. I don’t want to freak you out.”

  “I’m okay.”

  “I started researching my options. They weren’t great. They still aren’t. I eventually had breast removal surgery. There is some small scaring, but it was many years ago. I had to have a revision a couple years later, but now, I think my chest looks really natural. I mean, I don’t pump up a lot or anything, but I do pushups and some light free weight exercises every other day. So, you know. I’m not Captain America, but I look all right.”

  I nodded against his neck again, rubbing my hand over his chest. It certainly felt like a male chest. He asked me if I wanted to see and I said yes, so he took off his tie, and unbuttoned his shirt. I ran my hands over it.

  “I expected to see a lot of scaring.”

  He shook his head. “I had small breasts to begin with, so I just had a keyhole surgery. It went really well. I mean, it’s still major surgery. Thank God I had a friend to help me with the drains and all, but… Well, anyway, I was pleased with the result.” He paused for a few minutes, while I just sat there, taking it in. “Davey? Are you still with me?”

  I lifted my head up and kissed him gently on the mouth. “Still here.”

  He pulled me in tighter and continued. “That was pretty much it. There really aren’t any great options for bottom surgery for FTM’s, unfortunately. I mean, there are some options, but I really don’t like any of them. I think I’m waiting for the day when they can attach a fully functioning 8 inch penis that gets erect on demand.”

  I laughed a little. “Danny, I don’t want to be insensitive, but if you and I had sex, what … or how would we…”

  He interrupted. “Um, taking testosterone enlarged my clitoris. So, that’s kind of like my penis now. It kind of … uh, well, you could, um, manipulate it, for lack of better word, the way I would yours, and I can reach orgasm that way. And of course, for you, you know, I can go down on you or use my fingers or I have a strap-on … of course, if you don’t like it, I could buy a different one.. Bigger or smaller or, I don’t know, more or less curved or a different material. I mean, the important thing would be that you liked it, so whatever we needed to do…” He trailed off. “I’m talking too much.”

  “It’s just… Do you want me to… I don’t know … penetrate you?”

  “No. No. No. Did I say ‘no’? No. I mean, yeah, technically that’s still there and all, because of … you know, whatever reasons, but yeah. No. I just prefer if we kind of pretend it’s not there.”

  “But would I go down on you?”

  “Yeah, yeah… I mean, you could. You don’t have to. You don’t have to do anything. We’ll work it out as we go along. We’re just kind of in new territory here. I had girlfriends as a lesbian, but I really haven’t been that close to someone since I started transitioning, so this is all kind of new to me, too. Plus, you know, we can get a dildo that, um, gives me sensation against my, um, penis, while pleasuring you, too.”

  “I see.”

  “Think of it this way. How many boyfriends have you had who offered to buy a new penis if you didn’t like the one they had?” He laughed nervously.

  I drag my thoughts back to the here and now. Danny is still sleeping next to me. I can’t stop looking at his face. I felt his pain when we were talking last night, and I feel it now. Here’s the thing. I still love him. I still think he is the most wonderful person I have ever met. I still love his beautiful face and his intelligence and his sense of humor. I love his smile and the way he drives and the way he treats me like a lady, even when I’m not acting like one. But I don’t think I can do this. I don’t think I can live with him. I don’t think I am brave enough or wise enough or whatever it is I need to be in order to be the girlfriend of a transman. I can’t do it.

  I crawl quietly out of bed and retrieve my clothes. I pack up my shower supplies and start some coffee. I’m on my second cup when Danny appears.

  “Hey, love,” he says, smiling.

  I look up at him. “Do you want a cup of coffee?”

  He shakes his head. “No. Do you want to talk?” He looks down, notices my overnight bag at my feet. “Davey?”

  “Could you drive me home? Please?”

  He bows his head, then looks into my eyes. “I’ll drive you home. But I want you to know that this sucks. This really sucks. I love you and I know you love me.”

  I nod. “I do love you.”

  At the car, he opens my door for me, as usual, and takes my bag around to the other side. He doesn’t speak to me as we drive back towards Westlake. When we’re within a couple minutes of my house, I turn to look at him. His eyes are bright with tears, but he hasn’t let any escape. I can feel my own tears starting to slide down my face. “Danny?”

  “Don’t. Just don’t. I want to make this easy for you. I promised I would take care of you and I’m not going to make you feel worse right now than I know you do. But don’t.”

  I look out the window, trying to hold in the tears. Danny finally reaches over and takes my hand, lifting my wrist to his mouth and kissing it. He pulls into the parking lot and stops near my apartment.

  “Hang on,” he says, and comes around to open my door.

  I look up at him as I get out of the car. “I’m sorry. Danny, I’m sorry.”

  He looks away, then looks back at me. “Davey, it’s people like you that make it so hard for people like me.”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say but sorry.”

  He looks away. “You’re liberal. You have a crazy mother. Your best friends are lesbians. You even work in an LGBT center. Yet, you’re repulsed by me. Imagine then, how those ignorant rednecks feel about me.” His voice is rising. “If someone as open-minded as you can’t stand to be with me, imagine for a second the revulsion that goes through one of those ignorant, violent, assholes who beat up, rape, and kill transsexuals! Imagine that. Imagine how much we disgust people. Imagine how I feel knowing that even a woman who loves me, who admittedly loves me, who professes to adore me, can’t stand the idea of making love with me. Imagine that, Davey!”

  We’re both openly sobbing. “Danny, I’m sorry. I don’t find you disgusting, it isn’t that. Please…” I reach out to touch his face, to hold him, to do something to take his pain, but he spins out of my reach. “Thank you for the short time we did have, Davey. I don’t regret that part.”

  I stand in the parking lot crying until I hear the door open. “Davey, come inside,” my mother says.

  I run to the door and throw myself into my mother’s arms, sobbing. “I hate this, I hate this.”

  She rocks me for a few minutes, then says, “Let me make you a cup of tea.”

  I look up. Lynne is standing in the entrywa
y to the kitchen. “You need to get out of my house right now!” I yell, advancing on her. “How dare you? How dare you still be here!”

  “Davey, please, please listen to me. I know I was wrong the way I treated Danny, I was just so shocked.”

  “You were shocked? You were shocked! What the fuck does Danny’s gender have to do with you?”

  “It’s just that transsexuals are such an affront to lesbians and feminists.”

  “What?”

  “Davey, listen. A woman who has enough self-hatred that she turns her back on her entire gender just to be accepted into the boy’s club is a slap in the face to all women.”

  “Lynne, that is a limited view. That isn’t Danny. It might be true for some transmen, just like there are some lesbians who hate themselves and wish that they weren’t gay. Not true for the majority!”

  She paces back and forth across the room. “You don’t understand. Most FTM’s are lesbian women who decide that they would rather be men. They are turning their back on their own genders to fall right into male privilege.”

  I march into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. Leah is sitting at the table, drinking tea. “I thought you were bringing me a cup.”

  She shakes her head. “I thought you two needed to have this out.”

  I storm back into the living room and flop onto the couch. “You didn’t chose to be gay. It was inside of you. It’s just there. Could you decide to be straight, to access straight privilege?”

  “No, I couldn’t. And that’s just it. I was born a woman and I was born gay. If I chose to become straight, just because I hate being gay, then I am turning my back, not only on myself, but on every lesbian who lives a true life.”

  “Danny knew he was a boy at the age of three. Are you telling me that was some desire to turn his back on the empowerment of women? With his feminist, artistic mother?”

  “It’s bullshit. She should have been a butch lesbian. Sure, she has male energy, but she has a female body. She could have been a big butch like Andy.”

  “Andy is a woman. She is a strong woman. Danny knew he was supposed to be a man. He has male energy because he is a male.”

  “She’s a fad. They all are. There’s a big move lately of these self-hating dykes to become men. And when it’s all over and there is a new fad, then they’ll be left hating their deformed, freakish bodies and they will have no way to go back.”

  “Lynne.” I put my head down in my hands. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this from you. I can’t believe I’ve known you for this long and I never knew you felt this way.”

  “You never needed to because we never had any trannies in our lives.”

  I can’t stand this anymore. I have to get out of here. My heart is broken, my life is ruined, and I have to stand here arguing with someone I thought was a good friend. I turn around at the front door to look back at Lynne.

  “I want you and your stuff out of here by the time I get back.”

  I’m on the cell before I even hit the street. I’m crying again.

  “Andy.”

  “Davey-baby, where are you?”

  “Walking from my place to yours.”

  “I’ll meet you halfway.”

  I’m already walking faster as I hang up the phone. When I see Andy come around the corner, I break into a run. She does, too, and within a couple of minutes, I am flinging myself into her arms. She picks me up and wraps me into a hug, letting my cry all over her shirt. I’m having trouble breathing, hiccupping and coughing as I try to speak.

  “Lynne, she’s so cruel … and Danny, I don’t think I can do it! I told Lynne to leave the apartment,. I love him, Andy, I love him —but I don’t think I can do it.”

  She holds me for a few minutes, letting me cry. “Come on, sweetie, let’s get back to my place where we don’t have to worry about Mr. and Mrs. Suburbia staring out their windows.”

  I laugh, rubbing my eyes with my hands. Andy takes my hand and we walk back to her place.

  “Want a beer?” she asks as I lean back on the couch.

  “Yes. Or maybe a shot.”

  “I’ll make you a cocktail”

  I listen to her rummaging around in the kitchen for a while. “Andy?”

  “Yes, Davey-baby?”

  “Do you think Danny is anti-woman?”

  “Not at all. He adores you. Besides, he punched Jackass Joe for calling me a dyke.”

  “True. So maybe he’s anti-douchebag.”

  “He’s anti anyone who upsets you.”

  “Andy, I love him.”

  “I know. What are you going to do?”

  “I can’t. I just can’t. I thought about it and I can’t. There’s too much to deal with. I can’t do it.”

  She comes back into the living room, puts my drink on the table, and lies down next to me on the couch. I curl into her and rest my head on her shoulder.

  “I feel like an asshole. All of the work I do with transgendered kids, and when it comes to my own boyfriend, I can’t handle it.”

  “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. It is a strange situation. You’re a straight woman. He is emotional and mentally a guy, but his body is female. Or not even female, but something in between. I can see why that would be hard to accept.”

  “It doesn’t mean we can’t be friends, but I don’t think I can date him.”

  “Whatever you need, Davey-baby. You know I’ll support you whatever you choose.” She pulls me in a little closer. “I have to admit that I always figured if you fell for a woman, it would be me.”

  “Well, Andy, he isn’t a wom…” She stops me by pressing her mouth against mine. Shocked, I go completely still, letting her kiss me for a moment, then sink into the kiss. Her tongue finds mine, my arms curl around her neck. We kiss deeply for a few moments, before I pull back and look into her eyes.

  “Andy, this isn’t us. This isn’t right.”

  “Davey, I’ve loved you for over thirty years. I could take good care of you.”

  I sit up, taking her hand. “You take good care of me anyway.”

  She sits up, too, sighing. “Davey, I’m in love with you. You’re an amazing, beautiful woman and I’m a lonely old dyke.”

  “Are you really lonely?”

  “No, but I would be if I didn’t have you.”

  “Andy, look at me.” She looks up. She’s the same old Andy I’ve always known. My best friend, my protector. I would kill or die for her. I think I would even marry her if that was what it took to keep her happy. But I’m not gay. “Andy, be honest. Do you really think you’re in love with me? Do you really think that marrying me and being in a committed, monogamous relationship with me is what it will take to make you happy?”

  She sighs. “Davey, I told you, I’ve loved you for thirty years. Am I in love with you? I don’t know. I don’t think there is much of a difference between loving someone and being in love with someone. I think it’s a conscious choice. And we could choose to be together.”

  I look at her from under arched eyebrows. “So, I would be choosing to be gay?”

  “Ah, I guess.”

  “Andy. Is this about me? Or is this about being a forty year old woman who thinks it’s time to start settling down?”

  She laughs and leans back against the couch, pulling me with her. “I guess it’s about the fact that none of the women I have ever dated have meant as much to me as you do. I love you more than anyone I’ve ever met. We get along, we know each other inside and out. And I am getting old. And this thing with Danny had me really worried. You’re in love with him. What if you decided to marry him? Our relationship would never be the same. You’d be spending all of your time with him, becoming a wife, forgetting about your old friend. We’d never have movie nights anymore, you’d never just show up at my house after a bad date to devour all of the ice cream in my house.”

  I put my hand on her head and gently pull her closer so I can kiss her forehead. “So, this isn’t about wanting to marry me at all. This is abo
ut not wanting things to change between us.”

  She shifts and rests her head on my shoulder. “I guess.”

  “Well, Andy, things would change pretty majorly if we decided to get married to each other.”

  “I know,” she sighs. “But at least I wouldn’t have to worry about losing you.”

  “You never have to worry about losing me. Not ever in life.”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise.”

  “Okay. Sorry I kissed you.”

  “I’m not. You’re a great kisser.”

  “Yeah, that’s true.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Lynne is sitting on the couch, looking terrified when I get in. I glare at her. “I thought I told you to leave before I got back.”

  Leah comes running out of the kitchen. “Baby girl, please give her a chance. We’ve had a talk and I think Lynne owes you an apology. But give her a chance. Please?”

  I sit down heavily in a chair, crossing my arms over my chest. “Well?”

  “There is no excuse for how I treated Danny. Regardless of my feelings about transmen, I was deliberately cruel to someone who is very important to you, and I’m sorry.”

  I nod, unsmiling. “That’s very big of you. Doesn’t change the fact that you and Tim and Chuck attacked Danny.”

  “I know. Leah has been yelling at me for hours.”

  I glance up at Leah who is still standing in the doorway. She nods.

  “I guess I just don’t understand why he makes you so angry.”

  “It’s just that it seems to me that women who become men are basically saying that being a woman sucks. I respect women like Andy, or even Sarah, because they are strong, capable women who do not fit into the standard package of what is considered a woman. So, by being butch, they are basically flipping off those who want to lump all women into some neat little category. A butch who takes it past that — into transitioning — is jumping on to the other side of the fence. Instead of being queer, they are putting themselves squarely into the enemy camp.”

  “Men aren’t the enemy.”

  “They are. Men and women who hate women. They’re the reason why fat women are considered ugly, or why butch women are considered freaks. They’re the reason women who want to be sexually active and in charge of their own lives are considered sluts. You would never hear a man calling another man a slut, just because he likes sex.”