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Girls Don’t Grow On Trees
By Sabrina G. Langton
***
Author’s Note: Ummm… Here is something about a divorced, lonely crossdresser/transgirl trying to live her best life. It turns out that living your best life is easier with some help… and where you end up is always a surprise, or maybe not…
A little bit of romance, a little bit of soul, oh I mean , and a lot of music. I hope YOU like it and thanks so much for stopping by and listening…
***
‘Girls don’t grow on trees…
they just don’t fall from the sky.’
*
“Hi, great dress.”
“Um, thank you.”
“I am going to love living across the hall from a model?”
“Hmm, I’m not a model.”
“Well, maybe not a model yet.”
*
“So… I met the new neighbors, a lovely woman, a tall handsome man, so they saw me in a dress, this dress, who cares. Wasn’t that the main reason I moved here in the first place, to meet people, to dress up more? To wear bigger earrings and become me?”
Well, I say that with such conviction into my roseframed mirror, but inside my head it seemed like a grave mistake. I didn’t realize today was the day they were moving in, the nosy woman downstairs near the washer and dryers told me it wouldn’t happen until the end of May, it’s still April.
Thank god it wasn’t yesterday. I could just imagine them holding their boxes and catching me pose on the landing outside my door, surrounded by plants, flowers, and holly. The camera perched on my stateoftheart aluminum tripod, the four o’clock golden sun streaming in through the window. I could then say I was a model, look I’m actually modeling. Look I am doing my um, famous hand gesture, my famous leg cross, I would point to my famous model’s, um, expression, I don’t know. UGH! How am I going to explain myself, they are going to see a male leave this apartment sooner or later, and they are gonna ask about the blonde in the green dress. And I HAD to wear the bodycon one, what was I thinking it’s freaking Monday, no one wears a short bodycon, low cut with belled sleeves on a Monday. Well, I guess it’s LA, maybe they do, BUT STILL!
Sometimes I felt all by myself in the world.
I was sitting down, I was playing with the top of the green dress adjusting my gel breasts, I was about to cry, the action I was about to perform always surprised me.
“Hi, can I ask you something?” I am positive I sounded a little tiny, unsure of myself, lonely. That is how I felt lately.
“I guess, what?”
So, I called Nicole, my exwife, she would know if it was a faux pas or not.
“Well, I kind of outed myself to the new neighbors.” I don’t know why I was calling her, I knew she couldn’t be bothered with me anymore, she couldn’t wait for the divorce to come through, she couldn’t wait to move on with her new boyfriends. She especially hated when any of our neighbors saw me in a dress, green or otherwise, while I posed in the backyard or the southern side, slightly hidden by all of the overgrown bushes.
“Wait. You what? What does that mean?”
“The apartment across the hall, two people moved in today and they met me, they met Sabrina, I was wearing this crazy green dress.”
“So tell them you have a girlfriend, ha, they’ll believe YOU date a hot blonde, ha.” I could tell she was telling the boyfriend now, I never remembered their names, it doesn’t matter hardly any of them ever talked to me anyway.
“Really?”
“Oh stop, just tell ’em the truth, what are you this week, um, genderblended, trans, panAsian, whatever the hell you are? Who cares, you’re an adult. You don’t act like one, but you’re still an adult.”
“Okay, thanks, I’m sorry to bother you.” I felt bad, sometimes I made myself so crazy about things and I tried to take others on the ride with me, but now I didn’t really have anyone else to talk to. Nicole took all of our friends, they were all on her side, all six of them. It had nothing to do with being genderfluid or anything, she just figured she had a busier social life, she had more use for three couples. Well, every one of my, well our, friends.
“You’re dressed now, right? I can tell by your voice.”
“Mmmmmm.”
“Well, Sabrina, it’s okay. Call if you want, you are not bothering me at all, at least not today.”
“Oh? Okay, thank you again. Bye, say goodnight to your boyfriend for me.” I felt my eyes start to mist up. I just needed the slightest bit of kindness from her, usually I didn’t get it.
She laughed, “Yeah, I will.”
It’s strange but I think she likes my girl side better than my boy side, and my girl side she used to not like at all.
*
Nicole and I were married for almost four years, we were both twentynine, we were going to explore our thirties together and grow old. I think we were happy for at least the first two, maybe three, but I could be completely wrong. Sometimes I wasn’t too perceptive, my mind was always somewhere else. Work was busy, the house needed fixing up, there was so little time to relax and have fun. We did have so many friends, we did visit, but even those gettogethers became less and less frequent. Then something inside of me changed, Nicole started to ignore me, she started going out more leaving me behind. I was getting used to her saying goodbye while slamming the front door. By the end of our second year of marriage, I went back to my old habits, my hobbies, my relaxation techniques, especially since I was home by myself more. Turned out that if I wasn’t putting on my makeup or wearing something short then I was thinking about it. Once she found out what I was doing with my free time, she wasn’t even that surprised.
She was not surprised at all.
It was right after that discovery that Nicole told me she hated being a wife, and she needed someone new in her life anyway, nothing to do with my crossdressing. She made me show her but had nothing nice to say about how I looked at all, she would make fun of my outfits, hair, and especially nails.
“Don’t scratch that!” She would yell, and then she and the boyfriend would laugh at me.
She dated three or six, maybe fourteen men while we were still living together but separated, it was weird. I lost count and forgave her though, it got me out of the house, it got me back on track, it made me lose forty pounds and have all the hair on my body removed. Then the divorce got me to invest in padded panties and enhancement pads, three different breastplates, plus I went to the gym presenting female at least four times a week, Thursdays just to do a couple of laps in the pool. I never looked better or felt more confident and passable. My trainer Tony, says I now have a revenge body, and my ex would be so jealous if ‘he’ saw me. I didn’t have the heart to tell him it was a she, and I wasn’t so sure about that. He was the only one in my life who would give me confidence, he was one of the few people I talked to… albeit briefly, over a counter.
Actually, during our last year of marriage, I was kind of a wreck. I was bouncing between genders and I didn’t talk to ANYone, I couldn’t eat and I realized I would soon be out of this great house that I loved, and living all alone. I didn’t really like being alone. In my life, I went from parents to a dorm, to roommates. I never had to have my keys, never had to eat by myself, never had to say goodnight to an empty apartment.
But now here I was… Nicole found this twobedroom condo for me, right in the middle of Pasadena. Right near Pee Wee Herman’s former red house. The complex was full of men and women about the same age as me, with no children or retirees. She told me I could wear whatever the eff I wanted to. Told me I could take over every effin’ closet, hog up every effin’ mirror, have the entire apartment smell like an effin’ French brothel. She didn’t like to curse. She saved the real F word for when someone cut her off or until she couldn’t take it anymore, I very rarely get to see her reach that point. Thank god, she scared me a little.
She told me about this while one of the boyfriends was in her bed, I heard him calling her while I was getting ready to take a drive in a beaded blue mini dress, while I was looking for my car keys. She told me she couldn’t wait until I got the eff out of there. I thought she meant that night so they could have , turns out she meant forever.
I bought, repainted, refurnished, and completely moved into the twobedroom, twobathroom condo three weeks later. When I left she had a different boyfriend in her bed, he had the rest of my things boxed and sitting by the door. He told me he was planning on moving into my room once the smell of prostitution was gone.
I felt a little better after a couple of months of living out in the wild, work was occupying my mind and I almost felt settled. I remember walking around my new home, holding a complex Cabernet Sauvignon. I was wearing this beautiful strapless pink prom dress and black heels, I kept catching glimpses of the sensual coed in the mirror. My new figure, my perfect walk, even my new wigs, everything was coming together. I suddenly had an epiphany. I realized I had plenty of money, I had plenty of time, I had plenty of wine, I was going to do whatever I wanted to, albeit alone, but still, the thought was so liberating.
Once I realized this I called Nicole. “Hi, just checking in, how are you?”
“I don’t know, fine I guess.”
“Me? I think I am doing great.”
“Mmm. What do you want?”
“Maybe you can come over one weekend and see how I decorated. I have so many plants, I’m getting lost in the foliage, ha.”
“Oh yeah? How girlie is it?” I could tell she was conferring with someone else, I heard some muffled grunts, she might have even been in the middle of intercourse.
“Um, well I decorated for me so it is probably um, a little girlie.” I suddenly didn’t want her to visit, I didn’t want to show her my stuffed animals, my new curtains, bedspread, my vanity, or my huge hallway mirror. I realized it was a mistake, it was too soon to call and act like we were friends. She would be so disapproving. I knew she wanted a partner the complete opposite of me, someone much more masculine, someone who could pick her up and throw her onto the bed.
Crash!
“Just great.” She sighed. She surprisingly updated me the next day, she said she told all of our friends, she told them I was living in a new apartment complex, she told them I was now able to be as feminine as I wanted to be. She told them she was glad I was finally out of her effin’ house, taking up too much effin’ space. She didn’t give any of them my new address and she told me I couldn’t call them.
“Don’t even think of it!” She threatened. “They are mine!” Slam!
Oh, and she broke up with that boyfriend and got another one. Sometimes they were new and sometimes they weren’t. That former one had an earring, she didn’t want anyone remotely feminine in her bed ever again.
*
My condo was on the third floor, there were three other doors surrounding the Polynesianthemed landing. The new couple moved right across the hall. I was constantly peering out my peephole, I was constantly checking if they were in or out. The other two apartments had different exits and were separated by a couple of tall bushes. I had never seen those occupants, ever, not while hidden behind my branches and leaves.
I worked mostly from my apartment, I worked for a department store, I took care of their websites, some of their major orders. I turned one of the bedrooms into an office, I painted it gold and yellow, just like my room in Nicole’s house. I had plants and flowers surrounding the desk. A beautiful picture window showed me the courtyard, full of music, and a huge pool with gorgeous people. I would put on one of my new illfitting bikinis and spy the empty lounge chair in the middle of everyone, imagine it had my bag on it, towel over the back, a Harlequin paperback over the arm, just waiting for me to return from making mojitos or daiquiris. Just waiting for me to show off my legs, my plastic heels.
I turned my other bedroom into a haven. It was a beautiful feminine sanctuary, all pinks and maroons, with Renaissance art prints on the walls next to my two huge, mirrorcovered, closet doors. I also had an antique vanity with an oval mirror, I had a couple of shelves with all of my heels and sandals on them. At arms lenth I had my pick of cleansers, eyeshadow palettes, lipstick colors, and kits. I just wish I wasn’t so alone, I needed someone to talk to, ask questions, check to make sure I was doing things correctly.
I had my phone in my hand, I was about to call Nicole but I stopped, I had to learn to bother someone else.
I hardly ever had that dreaded feeling anymore looking into my mirror, lacing my sneakers. So, the thing about living alone was, I was dressing as feminine as I felt. I was always ready for a wedding, ready for a surprise party. Sometimes I was dressed like I was jumping out of a cake, sometimes jumping on a trampoline. I had a closet full of outfits and I wore two to four of them almost every day. Of course, I was almost always dressed for receiving company.
“Hi, a martini? They are one of my many specialties.” I would tell my imaginary visitors. I would show off my dress, my nylons, my expensive heels. “What a day, I am having so far, ha.” I would giggle, sounding exasperated, I would sink into my couch, cross my legs, and play with my hair. I would make believe I was hiding from the company in the kitchen, the long line outside the bathroom, the voicemail begging for invites.
*
Toward the end of my marriage to Nicole, I started to remember, I didn’t like being alone. I was developing a social phobia about it, I didn’t know why it was reappearing with such a vengeance. I was nervous when I was younger, a teenager, but once I went to college most of my fear dissipated, well I think it was gone. In college I had so many friends, so many people were always hanging about.
Now, it didn’t seem to matter what gender I was representing at the time. I used to go out at night to get away from Nicole and her guest, take long rides in my best dresses, my perfect makeup, record videos of myself listening to music and talking to my imaginary passengers in the backseat. I imagined I was a very popular ‘woman.’ Pasadena was very impressed I was gracing its streets and highways. I just couldn’t go into the clubs, the restaurants, or even the pharmacies. I would just drive and fantasize.
I was never worried about seeing anyone, I would come home late to the house, park at the end of the quiet block. The two parking spots in front were now for Nicole and whomever she was sleeping with that night.
During the day things were different, sometimes I forgot I had this issue, I forgot I just couldn’t walk into a store, buy deodorant, buy a salad, a bottle of wine. Sometimes I remembered too late, my breathing becoming ragged and my hands would start to shake. I felt everyone looking at me. I felt others were taking my picture, flashes going off, lights blinding my eyes. I would get away, I would be sweating. I had to keep my eyes closed and have my eyes adjust to no lights.
Being by myself I felt like a high schooler again going into vice principal Bacardi’s office, heading into the schoolyard, begging people not to make fun of me, notice me. Throw rocks at my back.
Back at the house, I didn’t even mind breakfast with Nicole and one of the boyfriends, I would cook, I would smile, and make extra coffee. I didn’t mind having two roommates, even if they would flirt with each other, even if one of them was always naked. I knew she was trying to make me uncomfortable, trying to make me storm out, but I didn’t mind it. I was more than happy watching her boyfriend get hard while he was enjoying my waffles, I imagined he was looking at my legs and ass as I bent over the stove. Nicole probably slapping his arm.
“Sabrina I can’t believe you are a boy, definitely not a man, heh.”
“Um, I…” I got nervous, I didn’t like when someone reminded me of my unwanted gender, especially with a man enjoying my outfit and legs.
“Maybe we should get you a man of your own, heh. A short dorky one.”
Bryce, her new lover got up, stood next to me, his arm around my waist. “Look how great we look together. Look at these lips. They would look hot surrounding my, well, you know.” His large hand lifted my chin, making me give eye contact, making me embarrassed. “If Nicole wasn’t here I would be sucking that tongue of yours. Nicole your husband is a ier woman than you, heh.”
She wasn’t happy about that.
To the annoyance of the ex, I was always dressed as my perfect female self, always had on long glamourlength nails, always looked ready for the office. Nicole would always ask if that’s what I was effin’ wearing today. I just shook my jingling head, afraid she didn’t like my new outfit or lip color.
She would bark orders at me, she would give me lists and directions, but I didn’t care. Watching her, I was happy she could find partners so quickly, I was so glad I wasn’t involved, plus I discovered she was way too adventurous and mean for me.
I also didn’t find her attractive anymore, now don’t get me wrong Nicole was a stunning woman, but her insides, well I didn’t like to think about that. The men she was with, always had nice physiques, huge arms, hairy chests, but they gave off such a bad vibe, they were always so much older and they were never, ever, kind to me, whether I was presenting as female or not. Nicole told me they only liked me around when they were having . The men said I could wear something transparent and visit, watch all night while they rolled around having strenuous relations. Hearing that upset me, so I would sneak out and drive around the neighborhood again. I always had my camera running, I was always practicing my voice and dialogue. I was becoming so much more feminine in looks and my outlook, plus I would make believe I was heading to my own imaginary boyfriend’s house, someone nicer, someone who would never throw me on a bed. Someone who would never need an audience.
Once back, I would park down the end of the block and wait until her bedroom lights went out, I would check the security cameras in the kitchen and the hall, I would wait until they were done screwing and finally sleeping. I slept an awful lot in my car back then.
***
I was male for the first and only time this month, I was finally going into the office to pick up a few things that I should have gotten weeks ago. Deglamming myself was hard, it was depressing, it did something physical to the inside of my chest. I always had to force myself out of the door. I had my long nails hidden in driving gloves and my hair all scrunched up into a Brooklyn Dodgers baseball hat. I heard a noise behind me.
“Hey, I finally get to meet the other new neighbor.”
I turned around it was the man from 3C. He was quite tall, when I met him before we were almost the same size, I was wearing sixinch pumps.
“Hi, I’m Samuel,” I said, I’m sure I gave a worried grin.
He took my leather hand, he had a stronger grip than me, “Mark.” He smiled he seemed pretty sincere, he was still good looking up close, and he smelled fantastic. “We should have drinks, it’s good to get to know the neighbors.”
I smiled, “Okay, one day.” Thinking it would never happen. And we left the condo together, I should have talked some more but I couldn’t, I let him converse instead. We headed to the parking lot, our assigned spots were right next to each other, 3B, 3C. I was getting embarrassed being next to him, letting him lead, I felt like I was following too close.
“Oh, I almost forgot.” He pulled out his phone. “I called my friend, he’s a photographer, he’s quite famous. He wants a picture of the woman that lives with you, he says he can easily get her some modelling gigs.”
ero
