“Know what?” I asked.“I rarely tell people this outside of the community of like minded people but you seem like an understanding sort. I am not what you think I am, I am transgendered?” She said twirling the olive around in her glass.I nearly choked on the scotch and I am sure had a look of disbelief on my face. “So you are lecturing on how to pass as a woman?” I asked.“Exactly,” she said, “and I also do a segment on developing a feminine voice but this seminar is really about the outward image that we present.”There was a moment of silence between us, “Are you offended?” she asked.“No, not at all,” I said, “You are either very good at what you do or you are pulling this old man’s leg,” I said.“Well I can tell you that I am not pulling your leg, if I pulled anything on you it would not be that,” she said with a smirk that I realized was filled with as much sexual innuendo as the words she used. “I have had the help of a very good endocrinologist who was able to offer the right. They became friends. Next thing he knew, she was telling him that she had been planning to leave the religious order to seek her own happiness. Those two had found each other. I was happy for them. Kyle’s father’s new home was a three-bedroom condo in Montreal. Currently, he was staying with his new lady Vivian at her place in Quebec. We had the place all to ourselves. Kyle and I were lying on the floor, talking about old times. That’s when he asked me the one question I dreaded. He asked me how come I never had a boyfriend. I hesitated. I didn’t know what to tell him. Over the years, Kyle had more boyfriends and girlfriends than I could count. I had never had a boyfriend and I sure as hell didn’t want a girlfriend. I was a heterosexual Black female who was also a virgin. That was my sad confession to him. Kyle looked at me, shocked. I smiled at him. He kept asking me if I ever had any nearly sexual encounters or anything like that. Then, he asked me about my crushes. I looked at.
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