The other day I ran into the same girl who’d called me “white boy” during a pretend robbery (see entry a few weeks back)…only to have her greet me with the old “What’s up, my n—ah?” (Apparently, my complexion must have appeared darker that day.) She went on: “I heard you datin’ that girl from the party. I didn’t know you liked squares.”
Well, it turns out that the girl from the party actually isn’t a square (or wasn’t) after all. And because I’m friendly with her cousin who already told me she used to sell ass – and she doesn’t want me to know about it (and she smokes cigarettes) – I passed. Whores are good at chicanery. I’m not! But that’s not what today’s entry is about.
Getting called the dreaded “n” word affected me not. Funny thing about that. When a black person calls a white friend n—ah…this is the ultimate compliment. The other way around? Not so much!
Well…all this reminds me of a moment 20 years in the past when I was in the company of a tranny named Nikki, one of my esteemed Action Magazine clients. Nikki was a droll mother fucker of a drag queen who’d answer the phone in a ringing falsetto until she realized it was Billy from Action – and not a trick – whereupon the “girl” descended to her natural basso profundo. Nikki was one of my earliest she male associations – and one of my favorite owing to her sense of humor. From the Air Force (where she once served) to selling ass as a tranny? Quite a transition I’m sure we can all agree.
So anyway…I was in her crib one day collecting for my boss when the phone rang with a call from one of her best friends who was also a customer of mine. Thirty seconds or so later, I heard Nikki tell her homey “Oh, she’s right here” in her usual drippingly droll demeanor. In a moment of confusion, I looked around to see if there was anybody else in the apartment I’d missed and then realized the she to whom Nikki was referring was indeed me! Nikki had used the dreaded “s” word in referring to her magazine sales guy!
I supposed I could have taken offense at the use of that pronoun describing yours truly and said something oh so enlightened along the lines of “Hey! freak! I ain’t no faggot!” But actually, I thought it was kind of funny. And when I called into the office a few minutes later, I couldn’t wait to tell one of the bean counters that I’d arrived in the transsexual community – and that having Nikki refer to me as “she” was proof positive I’d cracked the clique.
Now all that’s ok with trannies. But if a real girl wants to call me she, Miss Thing better be ready to s— my d—! Or it’s on, fish! Nobody but my closest she male friends call me she! Don’t even try it!!