Just a Sweet Transvestite from Transexual, Transylvania

Don't get strung out by the way that I look,
Don't judge a book by its cover

I'm not much of a man by the light of day,
But by night I'm one hell of a lover

[Sweet Transvestite - The Rocky Horror Picture Show]

 

Inspired by Pat Tillett’s hilarious post about the perils of men wearing women’s clothing, I’m going to tell you about the time B found out that cross dressing is not exactly his handbag either.

It was the early 1990s... we were young, wild and foolish, given to drinking copious quantities of alcohol and dancing all night long to heavy metal in Cape Town’s smoky, dingy student bars like the aptly named “The Pig”[1]. Just about every weekend, someone would be throwing a “digs”[2] party...too many people jammed into a tight space, drinking too much cheap booze, and shouting at each other over the too loud music. Pretty much my idea of hell these days...

This particular Saturday night was no exception... one of my friends was turning 21, and celebrating with a Rocky Horror Picture Show themed party at her digs. So... we thought we’d both go in gothic, transvestite gear, as you do... and set off kitted out in laddered fishnet stockings, Doc Marten boots, miniskirts, black lacy bras showing through red camisoles. It was a freezing winter night, but there were some other party goers making their way down the main road dressed only in suspenders and bras....much to the delight of the local police parked kerbside in their van, awaiting the ensuing antics of a typical weekend night around campus.

By the time we got to the party, it was in full throttle and people were already dangerously drunk on the punch....the host had started preparing it two days before, by soaking fruit in neat vodka. I don’t think there was any lemonade in that punch bowl, as everyone just kept topping it up with their poison of choice. A couple of cups of it and I was no longer compos mentis.

I don’t really remember what happened at the party... but the next thing I knew, B and I were staggering back along the main road towards my place, the cold night air refreshingly sobering. Our route included a stretch of the main road typically frequented by....well, let’s just say ladies who offer their charming company in exchange for cash...and it was on this particular stretch of road that a car driving past us suddenly slammed on brakes, reversed rapidly and pulled up next to us. Two guys hopped out and one of them said...

“Hey...you ladies OK? You need a lift or something?”

Now in his party gear B may have been a Dude (that) Looks Like a Lady, but even Steve Tyler would have noticed his hairy legs barely covered by fishnets, square jaw and five o’clock shadow under the heavy make-up!

“Nah, we’re OK thanks...” I said, “Don’t worry....he’s my boyfriend!”

Never in the history of disappointed men moving rapidly away from a scenario that has turned out to be not quite what they’d been hoping for, have two men gotten back into their car so quickly and driven off at high speed....followed shortly by the police van from earlier in the evening.

Had the cops come along a few seconds before, we might have had some serious explaining to do, dressed like that and discussing the possibilities of “lifts” with strange men....

[1] Nowadays a trendy pool bar in Obz
[2] Shared student housing

Happy Friday 13th!