Well this weekend has been eventful! Starting on Friday night with my first night out at a gay club. And just moving up so much from there!
So yeah, a last minute decision to go out to a club in London started off my weekend. It was a good night out, the place was a little quiet and I only knew a couple of the guys who went and when they went off I felt a little awkward but it was all good. A good first experience!
We stayed around one of the guys’ house, which was news to me as I hadn’t taken an overnight bag or even a jumper (I only wore a t-shirt and a jacket so I wouldn’t have to check much in at the cloakroom). Which meant I had to not only sleep in my clothes, but then wear them the next day. I also knew I would have to take my binder off and my packer out while I was sleeping. I kept the sports bra on and crossed my arms until I was safe to hang free.
The next day the whole lack of warm clothes was a bit of an issue! It was snowing and freezing cold and I would be walking outside for an unknown amount of time because I didn’t really know how far away the tube station was. I wasn’t getting a lift back home with the guys because I met up with a friend in London (we were originally going to meet in my town but it made more sense to meet there instead).
Seeing her was great. She’s the other friend I text the other day about being trans. I haven’t seen her in a year, which is criminal because we live pretty close to each other! So we caught up and chatted for a few hours and it was all good.
Then I got the train home and my plans changed again. I had been planning on going out on Saturday night to the society night out in the students’ union. But the night out on Friday left me feeling tired and a little queesy so I was not really up for it. I needed to go home and do some washing anyway so I decided to do that instead.
I knew I would have to tell my dad about being trans soon anyway. Before telling the rest of my friends at least.
So when I told J I was going home instead of going out, he asked if I was going to tell my dad.
I was going to. And I did!
I’d got fish and chips on the way home so after we’d finished eating, he made a comment about me looking glum, and then asked whether I was about to cry or be sick. Obviously I started crying then!
He scooted over on the sofa and wrapped his arms around me and asked what was bothering me.
‘I think I know why I’ve been upset for years.’
And then I said something like this:
‘Have you heard of…um…um…um…um…um…um…um…um…’
‘One word after the other works well’
‘Have you heard of…um…um…um…um…ge…ge…gender dyshphoria?’
‘Oh’ he hugs me harder ‘I have actually’
‘OK. How do you know about it?’
‘I watch TV. It’s been on a few things’
‘What do you think?’
‘I love you to bits, you know that. And as long as you’re happy, I’m happy.’
We talked a bit more about it but not that much. We moved the conversation on but he kept me in the same hug for about half an hour.
So that is the story of how I came out to my dad!
I think I’m still on a high from that because I told yet another friend this morning. I’d told her I had news but she’d have to wait for it. And she’d been making guesses (pregnancy, moving house, getting a job, winning the lottery, getting the lead in a West End musical etc.) but surprisingly hadn’t got close to the truth!
So I told her this morning after she said we should go to the cinema at some point this week. I knew I’d have to tell her before we went anywhere because of the whole toilet situation (she was there the other week when I took off my binder in the toilets).
In summary, her response was ‘kinda makes sense I suppose…genuinely happy for you’ which is a pretty good response, I guess.
And that was my weekend, and Sunday isn’t even over yet!