Gender Dysphoria Kills

In the mid 90s, I frequented a midnight AA meeting, in Clairmont,(San Diego).

At the time of this true story, I had been on massive, self-prescribed, doses of estradiol, bought in Tijuana, for two or three years.

I hadn’t been able to stay completely sober and clean due to my profession, independent-pre-op-ts-call-girl.

Many, indeed most, of my clients were drinking and often sniffing coke. After handing me a fist-full of $100 bills, they expected me to indulge with them…

If gender-dysphoria didn’t 'make' me an alcoholic, it certainly exacerbated it to a life threatening level.

There was a man who was always at the meeting, along with his roommate, Larry. He was short, maybe 5’6". He had long black hair, and his face, his forehead in particular, had the extremely deep lines of an alcoholic who has spent thousands of nights, over many years, sleeping, or passed out, in the out-of-doors…

This man was only known to us as “Bob”, in fact, we all called him “Old Bob”. It was easy to see that he was very old, perhaps 70 or 80.

One night, as the meeting was over, and people were going to their cars, Bob followed me as I walked toward my car. I had been a regular member of the group for a few years. He knew a lot about me, but not I, him. He rarely shared.

Old Bob approached me, shyly looking down. He raised his head and with a sad, pain filled expression said, “I have the same problem as you. I always knew that I was really a girl.” Before I could get past my surprise and respond to him, he turned quickly and went to get into Larry’s pickup truck.

For about a week, I didn’t see Old Bob at the meetings. I probably didn’t get to every one.

When I did get to a meeting, Old Bob wasn’t there. I asked Larry, “Where’s Old Bob?”

The other four people and I looked at Larry, waiting for him to speak.

Larry had his arms on the cheap, plastic, patio table. His head was down, looking at his hands.

Larry spoke, barely above a whisper, “Bob took some pills and drank a fifth of vodka. He’s dead.”

I, and one other person, said, “Well, at least he had a long life.”

Larry made no movement, no sound. We all waited for him to react, in any way.

Again, barely above a whisper, sadly, Larry said, “Bob was 39 years old.”



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Bye y'all. it's been real. I have a new Chromebook, but I prefer to write these little "aside" pieces on my phone, curled up in my comfy chair. always love; w