Lives Between Walls

Oh how I hated waiting. The grief it caused me was soul deep. He had said he would be here at 10am. I glanced at my watch. It was a minute past. I know it’s a bit too early to panic, but I was just used to this pattern. I hate it because to me it became a reflection of how people valued my time – how they valued me. I was really hoping things would be different with this guy. I had had some strange encounters on that dating website, thankfully they had fallen by the wayside. With this guy, I had really felt a genuine connection. I felt he really understood me. We had talked every single day for the past 3 months. A good guy. I was feeling a bit guilty that I had lied to him, about who I was – what I was. The cafe door bell rang, as the door swung open. My heart skipped a beat, only to relax as I saw a skinny red haired boy walking in. “Are you okay?” A young busty waitress startled me, holding a large menu against her chest. I smiled and told her I was fine. “I’m waiting for someone actually,” I explained. “Mmm, must be a very special lady,” she replied with a bright smile. She was quite a beautiful human specimen. I smirked, “I don’t know yet, we’ll see.” She laughed. “I’ll come a bit later to take your order sir,” she said. “Not a problem,” I smiled and winked at her as she walked away.

I had come to the point where I didn’t bother correcting people when they got my gender wrong. I’ve had women flirt with me thinking that I was a man. Apparently I’m the most beautiful man they’ve ever seen – a man with an unusually high pitched voice. The sad thing is, there have been times where I have ended up consenting to offers for love from young women. If only to feel loved and appreciated for a moment. What would you do, if you had a need to be loved, and the only people that were willing to do that for you are those of the same sex? The problem is, I am not a man but a woman – and there’s no denying what I am. As a woman I have emotional needs that only a healthy relationship with a good man can fulfill. That is why I am here.

I believe ‘hirsutism‘ is the term that denotes excess male hormones in women. That’s the name of my demon. That’s why I sport a beard and have male features on my body. I’ve had to dress up as a man, as it allows me to fit into society without having to explain myself to the ‘freak police.’ My life has been a painful and controversial one. I’ve been ostracized everywhere. I have even been asked to leave the church, as my presence was a stumbling block for other believers. I dropped out of matric, as the bullying got too intense. I finished it through homeschooling. My grandma is one of the few people who has stuck by me. I love her for that. Having been dumped on her by my parents on realising my condition, I had become numb to the trauma of being abandonned. The cafe was quite small, with only a handful of people in it. I guess it was because it was a late Saturday afternoon. Most people were out at a club or a more exciting place than this book cafe.

The door bell rang again. My heart fluttered again as I saw him walk in. He looked exactly like how he did on his profile. The chiseled facial features, dark brown eyes, the curly black hair on an athletic frame. He looked around the cafe, his eyes sweeping over me. No. I couldn’t do it. Everything in me wanted to call out to him, but I was afraid of losing him when he realises that I was a freak. I would rather not meet him in real life but retain our online relationship. It’s all I had in my miserable life. It was the ace in the pathetic lot that God had dealt me. I hid myself behind the menu, even though I was confident that he wouldn’t recognize me as I had used a different face in my profile – some random blonde from an internet site. The best way to win guys is to give them what they want to see – and no guy wants to see a flat chested woman with a beard. I had decided that I was going to have to let this pass. I watched him walk to the cute waitress who had spoken to me earlier. I watched them laugh. I was jealous of her. “Hands off, bitch” I whispered under my breath. Suddenly the waitress turned and pointed Sifiso towards me. My heart stopped, as his gaze followed the waitress’s delicate finger towards my direction. “Oh shit,” I murmured, “Stay calm Jess.” I quickly looked away as they walked over to my table in agonizing slow motion. I was afraid, what had this waitress told him about me?

“Hey,” Sifiso stuck out his hand for a handshake. The waitress explained that since we were both waiting for someone, we might as well sit together. Awkward. “Who knows?” We might be waiting for the same woman!” He joked as he threw his head back and gave a loud chuckle at his own joke. I laughed nervously. He had the most amazing laugh, it gave me goosebumps. I could listen to it forever. We sat together at the table and waited for the ‘ladies.’ It seemed like they were going to be late that afternoon.

Oh how I hated waiting. The grief it caused me was soul deep.