... my dear friend forever, when I read your letters I get the shivers, and when you talk about me I feel pleasantly x-rayed, believe me you are fantastic, you have analyzed and captured in synthesis the behavioural model that I usually assume—in front of your words I feel naked and defenceless—I can only compliment you. You are a very sweet and uniquely sensitive person, how can I, who am unfortunately surrounded by ugly and indecent experiences and have become by now hostile and suspicious, yet still willing and restless, find the right balance between total refusal and its complete antithesis. Very often I think about our eventual meeting but then the fear of the consequences forces me to close the door to my heart, and if I leave a crack open, my own fragility causes me to be immediately sorry, my heart breaks in two, and I feel ashamed without any reason. I am cruel with myself, this I know, perhaps I need to expiate my past faults, even when I set a limit to my words, I still feel unsure probably because I am afraid of disappointing you. I don't know! Here I go putting up my defences again, maybe I've learned too well from the world how not to give myself easily, not to go beyond, and how to be afraid of taking flight. Perhaps I didn't learn but it was already written inside of me!
After my brother's birth my mother absolutely wanted a daughter, a girl, and instead I was born, an ugly toad, but she didn't let that stop her and she raised me more or less as though she actually had a girl. I arrived at nursery school and later at elementary school in a state of total confusion both sentimental and behavioural. Many times I was ridiculed by my companions and then humiliated and beaten up outside of school.

I don't know if this might explain my behaviour, at times so cruel as to interrupt a pleasant and spicy thought, so contrary to a free style, so hostile to an encounter completely natural between two adult persons, I don't know! Excuse the expression but I define myself stupid with no desire to grow up. The only thing I know is that I don't want to risk anymore and then cry over the consequences. I'd like to describe to you some parts of my life, in the hope of not boring you, and to offer you an analysis of the two different personalities that live together inside of me and that jump out alternatively without a precise and apparent motive. Let me make this small transgression, if you find it silly or boring, I apologize.
Between 1984 and 1999 most of my time was spent at Boston, I worked for some years in various telecommunications companies in Latin America, and in this way I was able to travel around a good part of South America. These were very wonderful satisfying years, but I also experienced difficult moments and had a lot of troubles until my destiny changed radically. I am a fatalist as you well know, and accepted everything blindly; little by little my life changed and so did my way of thinking, the certainties became less certain, and everything seemed possible, but I realized too late that my life was headed inevitably downhill.
Let me get one thing clear, drugs were not involved. You know that I don't smoke, I don't drink alcoholic beverages and that I get drunk on beer. I don't take drugs and don't hang around with people who do I'm a tranquil and convinced vegetarian but I don't smoke grass, tribal stuff! for losers!

But let's get to the facts, I liked living in Boston , I had lots of friends and lots of gay friends. There being gay or transsexual was no problem, it's a very open city and the tv/cd/gay communities were very numerous even if not well taken. I lived with various companions with whom I passed beautiful days and memorable nights. I thought I fell in love several times, even though it wasn't true - I had brief but very intense situations - I always dreamed of finding someone to build a future with but there were only delusions, many delusions, many useless tears and in the end I discovered that reality is very different from what I thought it was, and that at any rate the world remained very cruel with us-- involuntarily different beings—who are viewed only as a modern form of transgression, only good for a brief encounter, trampling on those few feelings that we carry within us and that we have created with so much effort-- no understanding, no kindness, only five minutes of stupid words, spoken under the circumstances. At this point……I built my life around a rather dynamic model, somewhat off the beaten path. I felt good and enjoyed myself, I achieved success in my work but my sentimental sphere was constantly suffocated, minimal, longed for, ignored, really desperate!
It's true that I had lots of adventures but they were very superficial and not constructive, only fleeting moments that left a strange taste in the mouth, along with several other minor problems.
I wanted to concentrate more on myself, on my feelings, I was forgetting the most pleasurable and delightful aspects of my existence, so different, so strange. I needed to find a solution and so one day I woke up from the torpor of everyday habits, by now so unsatisfying, and I realized that I was ready for a radical change. Without the least fear of failing, I took the helm and pointed the prow of my life in the direction indicated by destiny. A decision that reset my mind, a new beginning at the age of 35, a university degree torn to shreds in exchange for a question mark….pure folly!

I won't go into all the mistakes I made following that crazy decision, and presently I wound up with no money, no job and no place to live in other words, sleeping under a bridge! In the midst of my misfortune I was lucky enough to receive the compassion of a biologist friend, a female, who let me stay in her small apartment for some months, an attic alcove. But she was an occasional prostitute and often brought certain types of clients to her attic. As agreed, at those moments which soon became more and more frequent, especially in winter, I had to disappear until the next morning.
What do you do at night in such a big and dangerous city in the cold of winter? How do you survive? I absolutely had to find a solution, I couldn't sleep on the steps , I would be chased away. I could only do at night what I did during the day, that is, work in a laundry, with low pay and worse treatment, like a slave. So I started looking for work at night, maybe in a hotel as waiter, dish washer, busboy, anything would do in order to earn a little money and spend the night indoors. I made the rounds of all the hotels, motels, pubs but fate was not on my side.
One cold night in February I found myself on the brink of desperation, since I had been out in the cold all night roaming the streets, knocking on the doors of twenty or more hotels with no success whatsoever in finding a job of any sort. Always turned away, refused, I heard them tell me <not now, we don't have a place for you, and anyway we don't offer trans to our guests< I was always misunderstood, I had no money and was miserably cold, hungry and discouraged—alone and tired in that night as icy as the hearts of those who had refused to help me—not even one miserable hot drink. How can people be so cold-hearted? Or could it be the sign of destiny? Without anymore strength or will power, I decided against my will to become a whore, that is, offer my powers of love and availability to sexually satisfy unknown clients whoever they may be without any form of selection at all.

By chance I was dressed decently, maybe a bit flashy but certainly not obscenely: short skirt three quarters tight jeans with long fringe and rhinestones, skin-coloured pantyhose with a delicious pair of lively coloured parisiennes, white boots and rabbit fur jacket - I couldn't afford anything more. My underwear was a body stocking with long sleeves in synthetic material, very protective, skin on skin. Short page-boy hair-do, dark with blonde streaks and a tiny purse that held practically nothing, just a hanky and an agenda with some telephone numbers, a picture of my father who was still alive but so far away.
In fact nothing out of the ordinary, I could pass practically unobserved during the day but could also be a rape victim at night. So I went like this to the area of the city where my friend (girl) hung out, not to take her place but only because it was far away from the house, a free and quiet zone without pimps or trash elements, in other words, a neutral zone still in the city centre.
Her colleagues who knew me where surprised to see me there but didn't do anything to chase me away. They had heard about my troubles and let me hang around with them — they even tried to help me by teaching me some wicked tricks, they didn't mind my presence since their clients just wanted girls. I quickly learned how to strut around very provocatively and got stared at more than once but nothing more. A few cars would stop and I'd get only obscene comments. That was an area for whores not for trans of any kind, meaning the clients came to pick up a pretty pussy-cat and not a sight like me. So when I went up to the window of the car to talk I'd get nothing but sarcasm and easy insults even though I wasn't all that bad looking - I was kind of cute and bright.

My days were empty, I didn't know what to do. Policemen passed by all the time, they even spoke kindly to me but at three in the morning all alone without having gotten even one customer I slumped down on the steps of a shop to think and to shelter myself from the bitter cold. I was lonely, terribly discouraged, I buried my face in my hands and started to weep and moan, I just wanted to end it all, life had no meaning for me, and I would have let myself die right there. That's right, I was convinced, with frozen tears on my face, I sat there until I didn't feel the icy cold on my skin anymore — my only thought was to end it all. I didn't think about anyone in particular, I only regretted not being able to say goodbye to my father, so far away, so out of reach, he would have understood me and helped me. He wouldn't have scolded me but would have loved and understood my diversity as always. The minutes passed: I stop feeling cold, my legs won't move, probably the blood isn't circulating in them, my body is numb, instead my mind goes back to my childhood, I see my mother, my toys, the cruel schoolmates, the years spent studying books….while the lights of the city change colour, they begin to pale, begin to flicker like little flames, a few cars pass but I don't see them and no one sees me, I close my eyes and let myself fall into oblivion.

In my mind the thoughts spun around haphazardly, when finally they began to fade away, I opened my eyes and looked up. I saw a car in front of me with someone getting out and looking my way, I immediately thought “now this guy comes over, beats me up, robs me and then sodomizes me, and if he kills me that's even better.” I didn't feel afraid, neither did I have the will or the strength to get up and run away. A good-looking middle-aged man came over and looked at me, I didn't think about my fear anymore, just that my legs were a little spread apart so maybe he was trying to get a better view, maybe he was curious. Like a well seasoned whore I began to open them wider and I tried to smile, but it came out as a grimace instead, and with my face bathed in icy tears I could only beg for a handout. He came closer to me and bent down, putting his hand under my chin, a kind person around fifty years old who caressed me and asked me if I needed help. I told him that I was hungry and cold but that I would do whatever it would take to ease my predicament — the survival instinct was stronger than anything in me. He took both my hands and helped me to stand up, I couldn't walk, he was so kind and willing to help me that he let me get into his car. He wanted to bring me to a warm place, if necessary, to a hospital. He touched my hands, my knees and my face, observing how cold I was, he murmured that my health wasn't good, he was worried, he brought me to a pub not far away. The place was empty, there was only the owner, and they both forced me to drink a glass of warm sweetened milk.

I obeyed and while I tried to drink I thought of the kind person in front of me, perhaps a religious, perhaps a doctor, or maybe just an ordinary person who felt like being kind to an ugly duckling. I drank and he felt my pulse for a long time, he asked me suspiciously “you took some kind of pill, didn't you…your hands are icy cold, white with blue fingernails, you might have chilblains…good grief your pressure is extremely low…I can hardly hear you heartbeat” He looked at my eyes, the pupils weren't dilated and so he was alarmed. “Wait here I'll be right back” he said, and returned with a doctor's bag. He said he was a doctor and had to do something for me right away, he wanted to save me from a dangerous situation, I could have a cardiac arrest. I made a sign of agreement but my legs were trembling so much that I couldn't speak — I wanted to tell him that I wasn't drugged but I couldn't pronounce one word, I could only make signs, even the pub owner watched me and tried to help me.
The doctor took a small vial and syringe from his bag, I squeezed his hands and with wide eyes gesticulated to him to not give me a shot—I was sensitive to needles and would faint at the least contact with one. He understood my terror and said it was absolutely necessary, but just as he came closer to tie the tourniquet my vision grew foggy, a buzzing sounded in my head, and then I collapsed, sliding down from the bench and on to the floor.

I don't remember anything but when I came to my senses I heard someone call me and give me a slap. Pale as a ghost I started to slowly gain my senses and some colour returned to my face—I had a fierce headache, and after a few minutes I threw up all the milk I had drunk.
Next to me was the pub's owner who warmed my hands and the doctor who wiped my face with a cloth, he told me that while I was unconscious he managed to give me the shot. It was by now around five in the morning and I felt like I was in paradise- their kind attentions, so warm and spontaneous, were giving me a renewed will to live. The doctor gave me a glass of water with some drops of a medicine for the heart which I drank with complete trust.
I was feeling much better and left the pub with the doctor, thanking the owner and apologizing for what had happened. He didn't want the doctor to pay him anything, so I gave him three big kisses on his cheek, saying, “I can only offer you these since I'm poor.” He smiled at me and invited me to return to his pub when I wanted and said I would always find a glass of warm milk waiting. I answered that I felt honoured and lucky for his care and kindness. At that, I thought it's such a varied and different world from what I had imagined.
At first the doctor wanted to take me to the hospital but I refused vehemently so he insisted on accompanying me to my house but I again refused, explaining to him my situation. At this point he took some money from his pocket and gave it to me to pay for a hotel room but again I said no, excusing myself for my rudeness.
“Isn't there anything I can do for you? I want to help and you refuse me, you're very obstinate and hard-headed” he said with a burst of impatience. Very calmly and quietly I explained that I would accept his money only in exchange for something. Stubborn and proud as I was I made him understand that this night as well as those to follow were very important to me, I would have to earn money only in exchange for work, but at four in the morning I couldn't do anything other than be a whore, I thought … obviously I was wrong.
Then he asked me to get back into the car, and we headed out of the city towards….we stopped in a perfect spot, my heart was beating fast, I wanted to cry, I was so insecure, I didn't know how to begin, I didn't know what to say, and what to do, but then everything just came naturally and spontaneously.
But he insisted that it wasn't necessary, that he didn't go with prostitutes, and anyway it was the first time that he had ever gotten close to a transvestite to offer his help more than with any desire. I tried to explain to him that I instead would have felt an intense pleasure and personal satisfaction if I were able to give him some moments of pleasure. He let me do so and time flew by until the first light of dawn.

Exhausted but happy, I looked at his face which was still all red and I gave him a kiss on his lips, he smiled and touched my face saying “you were wonderful, I've never felt such an intense pleasure, my wife isn't able to satisfy me in this way, I don't know how to thank you, your insisting on offering me sex in exchange for money has made me discover a whole new world, I am so used to a completely different life-style that I have never let myself go like this. Now I understand the success that certain types of people have - certain transsexuals”.
I listened to him entranced, his words filled my heart with joy, I didn't think I was able to give so much pleasure, his words thrilled me so that I blurted out “tonight I wanted to die, life had no meaning, you have given me back the will to live and I'll be eternally grateful to you, twice, because I've also been able to achieve my utmost desire, perhaps unforgettable for you.”
Coming out of my trance, I heard him say, “ You did everything possible to give me a new and unique sensation, a transsex who in a strange and wonderful night and in exchange for very little, offered me the thrill of an exotic dream, now I want to do something concrete for you, I think you deserve more than my respect and friendship, tell me what I can do for you now that would be useful to you.”
“My love” I answered, “you've already done so much by taking me from the street and saving me from certain death, yes it's true that you were doing your duty as a doctor, in Italy doctors take the Socratic oath, but not all of them adhere to it. You could have easily looked the other way and not seen the snowman sitting on the steps who, not able to conquer the world, gave up on life.”
“I think a good job might be a temporary solution for you until you can calmly review your life and find once again the satisfaction of winning”. “Yes, that's true” I answered, “but I want to begin with a simple job, at night preferably, for example, a waitress or cleaning woman in a hotel, nothing more.”

He swore to me that he would help me, he gave me his business card, which I put in my empty purse, and since it was already dawn, he accompanied me to the house. I rang my friend's doorbell, and right away I felt the need to tell her all about what happened, not for compassion but to reassure her that my troubles were coming to an end and that I would soon have a decent job. She was shocked by my story, she hugged me emotionally and asked my forgiveness “forgive me…I didn't realize all this could happen to you , I forced you out of the house, into the cold, for a stupid client, what a fool I've been, from now on I won't ever leave you….and if you had died I would have felt guilty for the rest of my life” she said, then as usual we both started crying our eyes out until we got a headache.
Dear friend, perhaps this seems like a fairy tale, but on the contrary, it is a life lived in first person during a moment of existential crisis. Described on purpose in every single detail, unforgettable memories, almost a kind of warning not take this road, where the weakest make their way under the influence of alcohol and drugs, losing every hope of turning back….better death than drugs.

 

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