The following is a slightly dramatized version of an encounter I had at the Poolsuite party at Art Basel. The only context you might need to know is that with respect to social transition, I am somewhere around the 'girl next door who is still figuring out how to date' spot.
Art Basel was a lot for me, I spent Friday and early Saturday in my hotel room. I don't think it was anything really specific that happened, but that I had a lot of emotional expression to do and hadn't had the appropriate venue. I tried really hard to go out to the Vacation Margarita Mixer, but started feeling some tears after applying my eyelashes and didn't want to have my name next to 'crying girl at party' in the Art Basel credits.
I did finally push myself out of my hotel room to go to the Poolsuite Disco party, I met Jordan from Boys Club and we chatted for a little while. When I mentioned Hereticon, Jordan asked me to say more (when it comes to this seminal gathering of the Internet Elite, people usually have to ask me to say less) and I regaled her with a few iykyk tales.
I went over to the wine bar to get a drink, and was waiting until someone tapped me on the shoulder in a very playful way and told me 'I loooove your tattoo.'
I turned around and saw a woman who is best described as ethereally beautiful in a very earthy way. Your brain might conjure some images, real or fictional, of women that break through from 'hot' to something else, perhaps indescribable. She was as beautiful as them, but in a much different way. I started to get lost in her eyes.
She had a really striking tattoo of a flower on her shoulder, which I admired. At some point our tattoo discussion faded, and we shared one of those clumsy yet flirtatious moments, both of us smiling just before casting our glances downward. She might have thought I wasn't interested because she said 'Sorry, I just had to tell you how great your tattoo is!'.
I told her not to be sorry, that I am an absolute attention whore for compliments. The glint I had noticed in her eyes at times graduated to its fully mature form as she said 'Oh you like compliments? Well in that case..... you're fucking gorgeous.'
The Aside: I'm Really Bad At Flirting 😔
I must interrupt our narrative at this point to address the 'still learning how to date' thing. Transitioning is not just taking hormones and watching a sacred process of becoming softer, fuller, and more beautiful happen. Your emotions also change, and for a lot of trans women you finally feel fully free to be fully yourself in social situations.
Despite my storied career as a rave queen, at my center I am the girl next door. Compliments on my appearance make my heart flutter, deep eye gazing from an attractive woman will make me forget where I am, and my kryptonite is this aforementioned hypothetical woman cradling my face as she kisses me.
As a result of not feeling transitioned enough to really date, I am also a girl next door in being horrifically bad at responding to flirtation. Autism is probably some of it, but I'm just now figuring out what one is supposed to do when certain signals of interest are shown.
The Return: She Was Really Good At It 🥰
Returning to that line to the wine bar, most of you who developed your dating muscles during Puberty 1 would know what to do in response to a beautiful woman telling you that you're gorgeous. I did not, and fate chose that moment for the bartender to be ready to take my order.
I got my drink, and told her 'By the way, my name is Ivy.'
She responded with 'That's such a beautiful name!', in a very alluring and sultry way.
Rather than asking her to stay and talk, which is what most normal people would have done, getting back to Jordan and the dance floor is what my brain told me was the highest priority, and told her that I hoped I would see her around.
I very much feel the cringe that some of you have just sent in my direction ğŸ˜
I did do my best to try and find someone who knew her after I got home to Vancouver but haven't had any luck in finding her. Getting hit on and not quite knowing what to do with it was a theme for my Basel.
My life often feels like some kind of movie, and lately it's really felt like some flavour of a young woman coming of age. I have some deep regrets about Basel, but am thankful that the girl who came home is different from the one who went.
She's no longer in disbelief when beautiful women tell her she's gorgeous.
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