Love Makes No Sense

From an article I recently shared:

“Have you ever been in a relationship with someone that simply doesn’t make sense? That’s because love itself doesn’t really make any sense.”

I believe my wife Marge is currently experiencing this first hand right now. How you ask? Let me attempt to explain it for you.

The first picture was taken on our wedding day, February 17, 1993. Notice anything peculiar? Yes, you guessed it, she fell in love with and married me, someone she thought was a man. I had her fooled. Hell, I had the whole world fooled, I even lied to myself.

Wait, how did I fool everyone and lie to myself? You see, I had a dirty little secret that I hid from everyone, I even tried like hell to hide it from myself. Just look at the second picture, I was exceedingly good at hiding my secret. I look like the consummate man don’t I? Yep, as a friend that used to be my manager called me “a regular Billy Badass with something to prove.”

“Okay, okay already, what’s this dirty little secret you’re yammering on about?”

Well you see, although I did my utmost to hide it from everyone, even from myself, I’ve always known that I was not the man I pretended to be, I am a woman and have known that I was not a boy/man since I was very young. I was a toddler when I knew there was something different about me, I just couldn’t quite figure it out, that came later on in my childhood.

I was so terrified and ashamed of what I felt in my heart and knew in my head, that I couldn’t tell anyone for fear that beatings of old would continue and that nobody would love me, therefore leaving me alone in this world.

Fast forward through time to the third and fourth pictures. Notice anything different? Yep, Marge decided to stay with me as I started peeling away the image of the man I pretended to be to begin revealing the woman I’ve always been.

Why in the hell would she decide to stay in a relationship that would challenge and change everything she ever knew about herself and what she dreamed our life would be like in our old age? I don’t know, you’d have to ask her, because love, love makes no sense. I believe, if it had been anyone other than her, they could not have survived the nightmarish challenges of being in a relationship with me, a transgender woman, especially thinking she was married to a man for 25 years or so, yet here she is, still in love with, and married to me.

I am blessed because again, love makes no sense.

Marie Willa Bobo-Smith

December 17, 2019

https://www.higherperspectives.com/proud-woman-today-life-lessons-2641603432.html

A request for help

Hey folks,

As most, if not all, of you are aware, I am a transgender woman hoping to have G.C.S. (Gender Confirmation Surgery) before too long and I can have that surgery once I’ve met certain criteria. I’ve met all criteria except the need to be on H.R.T. (Hormone Replacement Therapy) for one year. As of December 21, 2019, I will have also met that requirement.

The surgeon I want to perform my surgery is Dr. Marci Bowers in the Bay area. In my opinion, and that of many others, she is the best of the best. This means that she is highly sought after by transgender people all over the world. As such she has a waiting list, and as you can imagine, it is a rather lengthy list and getting longer every day. Right now she is scheduling surgeries 3-4 years out. One caveat to this is she has a cancellation list, which means it is possible to have surgery sooner because of cancellations but that list is also long and getting longer.

I was really excited because I recently found out that, even though I’ve not been on H.R.T. for 1 year yet, I can get on her waiting and cancellation lists. I believe managing to get on those lists would help me not be such a basket case because then I could see light at the end of the tunnel. Unfortunately I’m currently unable to get on those lists, that keep getting longer the longer I wait, because I need to put down $1000.00 which I do not have.

It has been suggested by folks to create a Gofundme and ask for donations. I’d rather not use the Gofundme platform but I am willing to ask for help.

I realize times are tight for us all but if you could spare a little something to help me raise the needed $1000.00 down payment, I would be quite appreciative. I am posting a link to my PayPal account for anyone who is willing and able to donate money to help me towards my goal. Thank you in advance to those who provide some assistance.

If you can’t or are unwilling to help I fully understand. There is no need to post replies of “I wish I could” or some other words explaining why you can’t and I would ask you to refrain from doing so.

https://www.paypal.me/MarieWilla

Boys Don’t Do That!

She was born on a cool spring morning in early May.
Congratulations mom and dad, you got a beautiful bouncing baby boy!
She was given a little pat on the butt.
And she cried.
“Boys don’t do that!”

(Blink)

She stood on her little feet in the foyer holding the hand of the social worker.
“I DON’T WANT HIM BECAUSE HE LOOKS TOO MUCH LIKE HIS GOD DAMNED FATHER!”
And she cried.
“Boys don’t do that!”

(Blink)

She loved to play with dolls, dress pretty and hang out with all the other little girls.
Her parents wouldn’t allow her to continue that kind of behavior.
And she cried.
“Boys don’t do that!”

(Blink)

She had some beautiful blonde wavy hair.
They made her put grease in her hair, removing the beautiful waves.
And she cried.
“Boys don’t do that!”

(Blink)

They took her to a psychologist to see what was wrong with her.
The doctor said there’s nothing wrong with her, just let her be her.
They couldn’t do that and instead the abusive discipline escalated.
And she cried.
“Boys don’t do that!”

(Blink)

She sang with a wonderfully beautiful high soprano voice and was always asked to join various chorus groups.
But her parents made her intentionally try to deepen her voice.
And she cried.
“Boys don’t do that!”

(Blink)

Just be yourself and people will love you they told her.
When she tried to be herself they continued to beat her without mercy.
And she cried.
“Boys don’t do that!”

(Blink)

She always tried to run away from her bullies and hide in her house to be safe.
Her parents always made her go out to fight her bullies and beat them without mercy.
She hated that.
And she cried.
“Boys don’t do that!”

(Blink)

She would play dress up in her mom’s clothes and makeup.
It’s just a phase that you’ll grow out of she was told.
And she cried.
“Boys don’t do that!”

(Blink)

She tried on her mom’s bikini, saw herself in the mirror and was astounded at how beautiful she looked and felt.
She closed her bedroom door with great shame and tried to remove the appendage from between her legs because it didn’t belong to her but she failed.
And she cried.
“Boys don’t do that!”

(Blink)

She built a cage, climbed inside, locked the door, thought she threw away the key and created the image of the man everyone told her to be.
She raged and she cried.
“Boys don’t do that!”

(Blink)

She started finding ways to be free from the cage, she built, without anyone knowing she was there but her captor was astonishingly unaware.
So she raged and she cried.
“Boys don’t do that!”

(Blink)

Her captor, somehow shamefully aware of her existence started exhibiting and participating in extremely risky behaviors to make her go away.
So she raged and she cried.
“Boys don’t do that!”

(Blink)

Her captor gave her brief joyous moments of freedom by allowing her to dress up and see herself in private, because no one could know of her existence but due to great fear and shame her captor always locked her away again.
So she raged and she cried.
“Boys don’t do that!”

(Blink)

Her captor tried to take her with them to their grave but she wouldn’t allow that to happen. Her rage began to rip the bars off her cage in order to be free but her captor fought hard to rebuild the walls of her cage.
So she raged and she cried.
“Boys don’t do that!”

(Blink)

Years of raging and hateful denial finally took its toll on her.
Her loving wife and her captor spit angry words of venom at each other as she tried to break free from her self-imposed exile inside.
She raged and she cried.
“Boys don’t do that!”

(Blink)

The walls were being ripped apart faster than they could be rebuilt and then they were no more.
And she cried.
“Boys don’t do that!”

Except I AM a girl
and I DO that.

(Blink)

Written by Marie Willa Bobo-Smith
June 19, 2019