Finding Love In A Woman's Arms Who Truly Loves Me

I grew up in a military household, our father was a professional non commissioned officer. In his 18th year of service he was involved in a fatal DUI accident on duty, found guilty. His record, which as children we were unaware of, included several incidents attributed to being under the influence. Following the accident and his conviction he was dishonorably discharged, busted in rank, etc. Needless to say, we went from Uncle Sam's protective arms, to poverty.

I went to live with a relative, my mother and sisters with our grandmother. My life was exposed to adult fun parties, including sex and nudity. I was exposed to lesbian party goers, high on crack, meth, and other substances. I faced off against naked gay men. My relative was not a role model. I withdrew from the world, always broke, my relative angry at my 'sensitivity' to her party world. She was an unapologetic lesbian, who liked small girls. Pixies.

I left as soon as I turned 18 and moved in with a lesbian woman I met through her. She protected me from the worst of that world and kept me focused on college. I had a part time job and one of the men there got my pants down and I became a woman. I was fixated on him, followed him, dreamt of him, wanted to get married to him, wanted to have babies. My mentor listened and told me life wasn't that easy, he fucked me, sorry, but he wasn't going to marry me.

I was twenty five, after college, before another man took my pants off. Older, married, he became my father figure. Two years later my father was released, rejected by everyone, he killed himself. I hid in the arms of my father figure. I suppose that at 27 I knew he wasn't going to leave his wife to marry me. I turned to my mentor, and walked to her room, and got in bed with her. With her arms around me she told me she loved me and I could sleep with her. That's where my pillow is.