The balding, paunchy middle-aged guy with the glasses a couple tables over was visibly nervous. He’d flown up from South Carolina to cheer on his favourite she-male at Toronto’s Miss She-Male Pageant. The two had never met but they’d been corresponding online for some time. They’d even exchanged photos.

“I’ve got butterflies in my stomach,” the soft-spoken former military man tells me. He developed a taste for she-males 15 years before when he was in the navy and stationed in Italy. They came into shore one day and saw all these pretty girls lined up to greet them. There was one with a really deep voice that turned his crank.

She-males, as our lovely hostess with the mostest for the evening, Amanda Taylor adamantly points out at the beginning of the pageant, are not transvestites or cross dressers; neither are they transsexuals (people who live as the opposite gender but may get a sex change). “She-males live any fuckin’ way they want,” Amanda tells the crowd of mostly family, friends and middle-aged guys like Vince.

Most importantly, she-males live as women, but keep their penises.

“I couldn’t believe a person can be so beautiful and have a penis,” Vince explains of his fascination. He’s never been with a she-male and doesn’t see himself as gay. He just likes beautiful “women” with penises.

I know, it’s complicated. But on with the show.

Like most beauty pageants, the night was divided into categories: bathing suit, evening gown, and interview. The talent portion was replaced by a “fashion shoot” in which each of the six contestants recreated a mock photo shoot, driving home the point that this was more about image than talent.

Donna presented her “fashion shoot” in a beautiful red Chinese-patterned full-length satin coat with matching corset and pants. Donna looked good, if a little broad-shouldered. And in those tight satin pants, you couldn’t help but ask yourself what she does with the equipment. There was certainly no sign of it.

One of Donna’s straight male dancers, who later joined his girlfriend at our table, said there was a lot of duct tape going around backstage. “I hope they shave first,” my male companion responded in horror.

Cassandra came out in a zebra bikini flanked by hot dancers in leopard-print shorts. Her very suburban-looking mom and dad, who were sitting at a table right in front of the stage and had refused to talk to me earlier, clapped politely and I had to give them credit for being there. It’s gotta be tough to watch your son come out onstage in full wedding garb and then have his lovely “groom” (a woman in male drag) “unveil” her and strip her down to her skivvies. Especially when her nipple pops out right in front of you.

Ever the lady, Cassandra discreetly tucked her ample boobie back into her white corset, and did what every other happy bride does, she turned around in her corset and stockings, bent over so we could all get a good look at her very fine ass and tossed the bouquet out into the crowd.

“Nice ass!” my straight male companion commented. And indeed, these gals had fine asses. In fact, we began to wonder if some of them had been surgically enhanced. In fact, everything about these gals seemed enhanced.

As Lola, another Latino and one of the favourites of the evening, said through her male translator when asked whether she-males should use the men’s or women’s bathroom, “I am a Super-Mujero.”

They really were über-babes. These gals had no cellulite. And they definitely had better legs and firmer breasts that most women I know. They had no tummies or hips either. Frankly, as a she-female, it was a little weird.

When Jenny, or was it Donna (I started losing track), came out for her fashion shoot and went from good girl in white chiffon to naughty school girl outfit to Pretty Woman hooker, it occurred to me that they get to play with all the female stereotypes of being sexy without all the baggage.

When I talked to Flare, a drag king and one of the pageant judges, about this at the break she offered a different perspective. “As über-females, they get a lot of attention this way. It makes them feel powerful. I applaud anyone who breaks down gender lines and reinforces the idea that there are not two sexes.”

Still, I say to her, isn’t it odd to her that she-males rarely go for, say, a dressed-down, girl-next-door or even a butchy dyke look onstage? It’s always the over-the-top turbo-charged female look. “Maybe in 25 years, we’ll see she-males onstage in pants and a t-shirt,” Flare consoles me.

Maybe.

For now, Lola, the “Super-Mujero” who was crowned Beauty Queen of the night still sets the she-male standard.