Transgender woman in wheelchair

I love to flirt. It’s enjoyable, non-committal, allows me to smile and most of all, it forces me to practice speaking in a high pitched, womanly voice. I’m getting quite good at that, but sometimes it still seems to be an uphill road. Anyway, I was out shopping in the town centre in my electric wheelchair – I cannot walk properly after a stroke – wearing a beautiful new hat – a marvellous, wide-brimmed creation in red vinyl – just the thing for a damp winter’s day. Then I heard a cat-call. In disbelief that it possibly be for me, I looked round to see who made it and whom did he mean. To my amazement I saw a man standing by a street café table with a mug of beer in his hand staring in my direction. I gave him a smile – I couldn’t stop myself – which earned me a wide grin and a load call, “Lovely hat, my dear!” I waved my thanks and blew him a kiss.

On my way again, I suddenly became aware of a presence behind me. Unable to turn in my chair, I stopped for a moment and pretended to look at a shop window. Sure enough, a man stopped, too, apparently sharing my interest in a display of perfumes. I caught his reflection in the glass and turned my chair so that he could see me. We both smiled and I waited for him to open the conversation.

“Nice day,” he started, rather unimaginatively, I thought, but perhaps he was nervous.

“Yes, isn’t it?” I replied, no less tritely. But then I gave him a smile.


He grinned back and then said, “Forgive me, but I was admiring you back there. Your poise and how you dealt so elegantly with that jerk.”

“Well, I don’t know about the poise. After all, I am sitting down and strapped into my chair. Still, it’s nice of you to say so.” I smiled again,

“OK. Even if it was not poise, it was elegant.”

“Well, thank you. But why did you call him a jerk? I thought he looked rather nice.”

“Maybe he seemed that way to you, but our tastes no doubt differ.”

“No doubt.”

Our conversation seemed to have reached a dead end and I started to wonder what would happen next. I did not have long to wait.

“Are you going my way?” he asked. “Towards the station?”

“Well, in that direction, certainly, but actually I only wanted to window shop. So my pace is likely to be an amble at best. Have you a train to catch?”

“No. Let’s stroll together?”

“Fine,” I said and looked up at his face.

He seemed to be struggling with what to say next. At least, that was how it appeared to me.

To help him, I went on, “If I’m not very much mistaken, you seem to have something on your mind. Nothing tragic, I hope.”

“No, nothing tragic. Actually, I was wondering how your chair works.”

“How, do mean? It’s an ordinary wheel chair with electric motors in the wheel hubs.”

“Yes, but how does the steering work? And the power transmission?”

“ I steer with this little joystick here. I don’t, I’m afraid, know what you mean by power transmission. I think, it’s all electronic,” I ended, guessing wildly.

“I see,” he said. “Anyway must be getting on now.” So saying, he left me sitting without another word and hurried off into the crowd.

What a disappointment. And what a waste. A handsome gentleman who might have fallen to my charms. And all he was interested in was how my chair worked! How did he expect me to know, anyway?


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As an older and partially disabled person of 71 I have a certain detachment to public reaction to my feminine appearance and behaviour. I feel that I no longer need to care very much what other people say or think about me. However, it must be said I am no longer employed and my dear wife recently passed away, so I no longer need to worry about distressing those close to me. I first realised that I was mentally and emotionally feminine rather than masculine when I was 14 - I was staring at an absolutely beautiful young lady on the street because I desperately wanted to be like her, when something clicked and I woke up to the realisation that all the other boys wanted her for their own satisfaction. Now, I dress and behave as a woman full time and am just about to start on hormone therapy as the first stage to transition. However, that is not all there is to being a woman. I manage the household and thus do all the shopping, cooking, washing and cleaning. I was very lucky in that my wife was happy to let me do all this - I adore it - even the housework!

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8 years ago

Lovely story Andrea. All precious moments to savour. Lesley.

skippy1965 Cynthia
Trusted Member
8 years ago

Perhaps he was shy and just lost his nerve? anyway still a nice experience overall from the sound of it!

Rosaliy Lynne
Rosaliy Lynne
8 years ago

an interesting story and at least partly positive. I can see where you would be disappointed he was interested in your chair and not you.
oh well – alls well and all that …

8 years ago

Its always hard to put thought into words about what we do, in our lonely little worlds, but even if we can dress up for an hour or two a day boy it sure is fantastic.

8 years ago

Sounds to me like “window shopping guy" just got a little bit nervous. Actually, that’s a compliment from him. It means that he liked you.

7 years ago

I thinks its great that he was at least interested enough to get closer and check you out. I dres 24/7 and I am always getting people coming up to me just for a closer look or they maybe curious to why I am dress like I am.
I chalk it up to one more experience of a life of a girl.

Amy Myers
Noble Member
3 years ago

What a great experience Andrea. I agree with Cynthia below me here, my guess is that he lost his nerve. That was the one thing I had so a difficult time with, chatting with women I liked. I always felt like they all thought I must have been some kind of weirdo because I rarely could get into having a nice flowing conversation.
Anyway, it is a wonderful memory, and perhaps another time you will have a better result.

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