The Boy In the Pink Wig

Some of you may or may not know, but I have had some insecurities come about that have been something of a problem for me lately. I'm not going to share this with you in hopes of gaining compliments or encouragement. That is not the reason I am writing this. In order for you to understand the true beauty of it all, you have to know the struggles that went into it.

I have been single for a little over a year quite some time. Over this year, I have lost weight, bought different clothes, changed habits, created hobbies... All in hopes of finding someone to call mine. I knew all along changing things about myself to seem more attractive to someone was a stupid decision, but we make stupid decisions daily. This one can just be added to my list.

After some self-evaluation, discussion with prospects, and most definitely some heartache, I realized that being a boy who likes heels probably doesn't help my cause in the search for a companion. Most (if not all) guys I encountered along my journey only wanted "masculine" guys, and I'm smart enough to know that sequined tops, pink wigs, and stilettos aren't going to pass as masculine. For those who didn't actually prefer "masc" guys, they ended up just not preferring me.

I was dancing last night in the typical weekend outfit consisting of a skirt and wig, minus the heels. I tried wearing a new pair out the night before and ended up coming home with a few blisters. I am dancing and having a great time when I see a girl dragging her friend my direction.

(imagine this conversation happening while slightly intoxicated and with twerk inducing music pounding through your soul)

"Hi! My friend thinks you're cute."
"Tell your friend I think he's cute."
She turns to him. "He thinks you're cute!!!"

He shyly laughs, and realized he might need a little more encouragement.  He throws back what little Amaretto Sour he had left, and stepped closer. "Wanna dance?" He asks. Without question, I reply "Duh." So we danced. After a good 7-8 songs of grinding, twerking, werking, and dirty dancing, he says to me "I think I'm going to go dance with my friends some more. They will be mad if I don't." "That's okay. Go have fun with them! I prefer to dance onstage so everyone can see me." I say in reply. He laughs. "Well, I'll keep an eye out for some killer moves. Thank you for dancing with me." As I start to reply, he grabs my face, pulls me in and works my mouth like a Wal-Mart store on the first of the month. 

It was Heaven.

I had fun. I was so happy I had finally gotten, although short lived, some romantic attention from an attractive guy. I didn't even have to log in to Grindr. I continued dancing, because I knew that my fun was over.

Wrong.

Three songs later, he came back. "I...I have been watching you dance and it turns me on so badly. Can we dance together some more?" He took my smile for the "yes" that it was meant to be and grabbed me by the waist and started moving to the music. Remember the part where I was wearing a skirt? Apparently, the combination of a hot and sweaty boy grinding on me plus the hormones I was blessed with caused parts of my male anatomy to emerge. I didn't particularly care until the bachelorette party came at me with open hands, if you catch my drift. The bride-to-be said she loved two things.

Roosters and cats. Think about it.

Prince Charming The guy I was dancing with laughed out loud. He told the women that "unfortunately I was his for the night." I was more than okay with it. We danced some more and he caught me staring at him like an 11 year girl (or guy) does to their Zac Efron poster on their ceiling. He stopped dancing and said "I'm sure people criticize and judge you a lot for your fun clothes, don't they?" I laughed a little and said "yeah!" He shook his head and said "I hate people who are like that. I find your pink wig cute. But I bet the person under the wig is even cuter."

I took the wig off.

He smiled and said "You shouldn't hide that face from the world."

This time, I grabbed his face and started kissing him. I held nothing back. I didn't care that there were 200 people around me with the ability to watch my every move. This was my moment.

Our moment.

We stopped kissing and he said "I want to get to know you more, so badly." I replied "Let's do it." His gorgeous smile slowly turned into a gorgeous frown. He said "I don't think I'd get anything out of one day but sadness." I said "Well it's a good thing it doesn't have to be just one day!" He said "I head back for the army on Monday."

Suddenly I was in my own twisted episode of Army Wives. Disappointed, I said "That sucks." After all of this time, I had finally met a man that found my crazy clothing, wigs, and dance moves attractive. I think he could see the true disappointment in me. He then replied "Yeah, it truly does. But what sucks more are the people that judge and criticize you. Never let the haters throw you off. They're just jealous they can't rock a pink cat wig."

There it is. 

Such a bittersweet moment in time. The culmination of quite possibly the biggest insecurity I face, resolved by a stranger.

After more dancing, I took his number and walked away with many mixed emotions. Happy it happened. Sad it was over. Mad it couldn't last longer. A longing for more.

I woke up today less drunk but more clear on how I felt about it. I didn't text him. I couldn't text him.  It would be just another bad decision to add to the list. I went to a film festival which required me to turn off my phone for periods of time. When I finally turned my phone back on, I had three text messages. The first, a simple smile emoticon. The second, a simple "Thank you for the incredible time last night." The third, "I was hoping we could hang out before I left Monday. Let me know if you're still interested."

Of course I was.

I replied to him and invited him to the festival, as my friend managed to score an extra pass. He replied "I would love that. However, I just received some news that is going to make me leave a little sooner than expected. I'm throwing my crap in my car right now. I'm so sorry. I think you're very handsome. Please don't hate me. I really wanted it." I sat there for a moment, trying to form some sort of response, and instead turned my phone back off. After the next two screenings, I turned my phone back on and finally had a response.

"I'm sorry we didn't get to hang. You're very attractive yourself.  Make me a promise...I can only speak from personal experience, but it definitely had an impact on me. Always dance with the boy in the pink wig. You never know how happy it could make him."