Cheap Trick

The hotel room had a fairly large dressing area. A long counter with two sinks. And, best of all, a huge floor-to-ceiling mirror on the side wall. Perfect for checking myself before I went out. But I'd already been out. I was back in my room now. And I wasn't alone. I won't say if he was a T or a guy. I'll try to leave some sense of mystery about this. But he was waiting for me on the bed.

I was checking my make-up over the bathroom sink. I'd forgotten all about the full length mirror on the side wall. But as I turned to shut off the bathroom light, I caught a glimpse of myself in the giant mirror. Head-to-toe fetish femme style. And it kinda took my breath away.

Not because I'm breathtakingly beautiful. I'm not. But the sight of myself… doing what I've fantasized about for so many years… was pretty mind-blowing. It wasn't my first time with someone. But somehow this night was different. And it was all because of what happened next.

With a burst of confidence I returned to my "date." He was sitting in the half-light, but he could see me well enough and I could see him. And, as I approached, his eyes lit up. He smiled. And I could see that he wanted me.

Now that's probably a pretty normal reaction. I mean, if you're alone with someone in a hotel room late at night, chances are there's going to be some "wanting" going on. No surprises there.

But that's the simple story. That's if you think the walk to that bed started back at the bathroom sink and the full-length mirror. But my walk started long before that. It started years ago. Thirty years maybe. Thirty years of hiding this side of myself. Thirty years of fears that someone would discover my secret. Thirty years of shame. Thirty years of thinking that no one would ever want me.

In fact, I was pretty sure of the opposite. I was sure I'd be hated if I showed my femme side. I'd be ridiculed. Abandoned. Fired. And probably beat up.

Back then I would have settled for acceptance. Tolerance. And btw… I hate that word, "tolerance." To tolerate means to "to endure without repugnance." I swear to God that's what the definition says. I just looked it up online. "To endure without repugnance." That means that we who are different are repugnant?

I'm sorry, but I don't want to be endured. I want to be adored! Cherished. Desired. Even more so because of the way I saw myself all those years ago. Back then, I really did see myself as repugnant. Or, at least, I thought others would.

That's why that moment in that hotel was so important to me. The look I saw as I came out of the bathroom was about as far as you can get from mere acceptance or begrudging tolerance or, heaven forbid, repugnance. My date was happy to be with my femme side. Thrilled. Pleased. Excited.

I don't know. There's a good word for it and I can't think of what it is. All I know is that I hope you get to experience a look like that some day. (Maybe you already have, you lucky slut.) But if you haven't, I at least want to let you know that it can happen. And maybe it can happen to you.

For a while now I've been telling people that I don't really know what I want out of all this. I don't know where it's leading. And I'm not sure where I want it to go. That's what I've been saying. And, for the most part, that's still pretty true. I still don't know where this is leading.

But I know what I want now. And deep down it's something that I think we all want. It's so simple. It's what teenagers want when they try so hard to fit in. It's what lonely coyotes are saying to each other when they howl on cold winter nights. And it's what Cheap Trick has been singing about for years in that silly song they played Live at Budokan. It's a silly song, but it seems so profound to me now. Because it expresses all I've ever wanted. And maybe all I will ever want.

I want you to want me.

Take care out there.
Be safe. Be smart. Be sexy.

xoxo,
CiCi