In August, I wrote “Boys’ Day Out” about a day watching motor racing during which I informed my “knows about my feminine side” friend that I had an ambition to go to Royal Ascot race meeting en femme. He said he would be willing to accompany me if I’d like him to.
Since that day, we have had regular e-mail conversations on various subjects (femulating did come up on occasions, too!) To my complete surprise, he also offered to have a “dry run” or two to build up to Ascot next June. Rhonda, when commenting on my original article, had suggested this might be a good idea, to see if could handle the situation.
After much planning, we eventually set a date to meet for lunch at a place which required an hour’s drive for each of us. I decided what to wear and changed my mind many times after that as the day got nearer. Unfortunately, about a week beforehand he e-mailed to say with much regret that he would have to work that day, so could we rearrange?
Very disappointed, I suggested an alternative and it was agreed we’d meet on October 22, a Tuesday when neither of us were working.
As the day drew near, I feared another postponement, but I needn’t have worried. After final confirmations, I set off from home on the day two hours before our rendezvous time. One hour for travelling, one hour for an in car transformation.
I arrived a few minutes early; my friend arrived pretty much on time. He’d never seen me dressed before, although he had seen “glammed up” photos ---his reaction as he saw me was as if I was my male self in jeans and tee shirt. As I remember, it was “Hello” and some comment about his journey. Should I take this as “I’m not impressed by what you’re wearing”, after all every femulator likes to be complimented or should I take it as “she wants this to be normal, I won’t seem surprised?”
After going out dressed for many years, I still expect the first person to see me to do a double take and stare, so when they don’t, I should no longer be surprised, but I still am. Anyway, of the two interpretations of his reaction, I decided to assume it was the latter.
We walked from the car park to the entrance of our lunch venue. My heart was pumping as we entered the front door. We were warmly greeted by the staff who didn’t react at all unusually to the 6’1” female who had wandered in from the rain, and again when ordering from the bar and being shown to our table, there was no expression of surprise.
Conversations with the staff over lunch were pleasant and “normal” for want of a better word as they were with my lunching partner. We talked about all types of topics, but this time femulating was not one of them. We could have been any man and woman meeting up for lunch and judging by the reaction of the other diners (or should I say lack of it) it would seem that they thought the same. If 30 years ago you had told me when I was only dressing when at home dreading an unexpected interruption, that I would do this one day I would have not believed it. It was wonderful.
The tables gradually filled up until we were surrounded on all sides. I was still a little nervous and conscious of my too masculine voice, but there were no double takes or stares (not that I was of aware, anyway) and my confidence grew.
I left my escort to pay the bill (I had contributed, but wanted him to hand over the money) and walked through the bar to the ladies’ room before we left the restaurant – again no reaction at all from anybody. We said goodbye and thanked the staff and after a few photos in the car park, we drove to the nearby National Trust property where we browsed in the gift shop and took more photos.
On returning to the pub’s car park to pick up my car, aware that this lunch was in fact a more unusual experience for him than me, I asked, “How was that for you?”
The response was that he had enjoyed it. I asked was he still up for Ascot?
He said, “You’re still going for it are you?”
I said that if it possibly could be arranged I was.
“Yes, definitely,” he replied. He could cope with the situation, after all! It was then, for the first time, that conversation turned to femulating. I explained that I was quiet over lunch because of my consciousness of my voice. He asked if I had I ever had any adverse comments (fortunately, so far I haven’t, although I have, of course, been “read” on occasions). He said he certainly hadn’t noticed any second looks in my direction. Good, neither had I.
In texts since our meeting, he made an unprompted comment saying “I looked great,” so my assumptions about his reaction on our first meeting were not far off. Thank goodness for that!
One final thing, we have been best friends for over 40 years in a completely male buddy way, but as we said goodbye, as he held out his hand to shake mine, I leant across and kissed him on the cheek. I immediately regretted doing this, but it just seemed the right thing to do. As a woman at that moment I was thanking him for a nice two and a half hours or s, and that he had completely accepted me for what I am. I immediately apologized and wiped his cheek to remove any lipstick.
“Now THAT would take some explaining to my wife”, he said.
The whole event was a marvelous experience, mainly because it was so normal and uneventful. And, yes, I have a very good friend.
A Femulate reader (center) dressed as a flight attendant
with her friends at a recent Halloween party.