I knew how much she wanted to play and the winning was a big part of why she was here at the club. “Shall we play a few games – see who wins?” I said. I could see she was pleased. “You serve,” she said. As usual, I got few first serves in and in no time I was three games down. I could see she was happy, knowing that she was beating me. Game four and she served an almost perfect first serve but in a rare moment of skill, I played a better side line return and she leaped across to play it back but slipped and tumbled to the ground. I laughed and said, “Get up, that shot was too good even for you!” But she didn’t move. I ran to her. “Are you OK?” But I could see she wasn’t. “I think I’ve sprained my ankle.” “Let me see,” I lifted her up and carried her to the old wooden bench that sits at the side of the court. “I’ll need to take your shoe off,” I said, and I slowly undo the lace and slipped it from her foot. I then gently pulled down the sock. Her foot looked OK but she was. .. good bye, and next one.It therefore was a question of, "In which gender would I have less problems, and have a richer more fulfilling life?"I knew I couldn't transition 100% into being female. There would always be small but critical discrepancies.My physical features were such that as Conner, I would never be accepted but as Story, I would have little or no problems.In fact, since once having stepped over permanently into cross-dressing, people seemed more readily to accept me as the person I was. Where Conner was tolerated, people seemed to go out of their way to get to know Story.Morally? As Conner I had been neglected, abused, and ignored most of my whole life. Was my destiny to remain so, or was the reasoning behind my suffering that I learn, break the circle of abuse, and then transform myself, my life, into a being, able to excel, and be accepted?As such, Conner had two strikes against him, before he even started out. People will always judge the outsides of a person, before.
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