I wish I loved making men come to orgasm as much as I love making women come. If I did, I have a real career on my hands, as opposed to just a hobby. 🙂
It is so difficult to find pansexual women to be with when you are a transsexual lesbian in a smallish city. That is actually part of the reason I moved away from Honolulu, and came back to California. And yet, I wound up in Santa Barbara which feels pretty much the same size. 😛
Thankfully I have been able to make some friends in the local lesbian community, but that didn’t happen until a couple of women started a meet up.com group. Even though I’m willing to date older women and younger women, I’m not sure how much they are willing to date me. It doesn’t seem to matter how cute I am, how in shape I am, or how friendly I am. People seem to like me, but mostly only as a friend.
I’m about two months away from genital reconstruction surgery, and that will make me feel a little bit more comfortable in my body, and in bed with another woman. As excited as I am about this though, I’m not completely comfortable advertising it.
Living in a community that is mostly college age people and retirees, it is difficult to find somebody in the middle of their life like myself in my early 40s. After having so little success on OKCupid.com, I shut down my account for a while. Then at burning man, not expecting it at all I met a woman who was fantastic and I unexpectedly been in love with, but she lives 2500 miles away in Hawaii. I had some great times with her, and so much about the relationship was excellent but I don’t know how it’s going to move forward. I don’t know if I can move forward, but I don’t give up hope. Thankfully, I know I cannot be in a monogamous relationship and it just won’t work for me. At least that allows me to not feel trapped. When I have had a date here or there it’s been nice but not mind blowing.
Ultimately, I guess I really need to just keep working on myself and be happy by myself so that others will notice and want in on the action. If I can be happy by myself, then I will be at peace. I wish there wasn’t that piece of me that still wanted to have sex, get fucked, and make another woman come.
I have reopened my OKCupid.com profile, but there are so few women available here and online dating is bizarre.
Memoir June 5 2014
“Know yourself, and to your own self be true.”
As a child I could these words terribly perplexing. Know yourself? How could I know myself? It seemed so nebulous. Indeed, how the hell could I not know myself? I am me, right? I did not feel to be of two (or more) minds or bodies. I was just jesse. Being. Here. Now.
It was not until adolescence that it was painfully obvious that most people hid their true selves, whether to conform to beauty culture raging in southern california, or out of desperation to find a mate, a home, a job, what ever they felt they needed to fill the void inside themselves that desire burned upon like a bonfire of dry leaves and twigs of uncertainty of self and belonging.
Years later in Honolulu it became far too obvious what the dangers, curses, blessings and gifts of knowing my self and being true to myself.
I had been going to my gender therapist for a few months, and determined that it would be appropriate for me to go to and endocrinologist and start hormone replacement therapy.
I had told my partner and wife christine the previous evening. We had a long and painful conversation.
The next morning as we lay in bed to the sound of cooing doves and chirping jays a blanket of dread covered us.
” i don’t want to be a transsexual!” i wept. yet i knew that i was transsexual and their was no avoiding it. I had had enough of being a vampire, hiding my personality during daylight hours with a stoic exterior, or masking it with liters of tequila.
Body Image and Dysphoria: I hate my body. Why are my mind and genetics at odds?
I quit letting Mary Jane dominate my life about a month ago. As a result, I am not able to disassociate as easily from the pain of having this body. Look at myself in mirror is painful. having the wrong genitalia is making me wonder if I will ever be comfortable enough in my body to have sex again. I know I will need many surgeries. Will I be ever able to afford the medical care I so desperately need?
I went on a hike this weekend with a local group of lesbians. I had a really good time, as I often do with friends who allow me to live in the relationship, but when pictures of me started to be posted online I was just reminded of how masculine my features are. People tell me I have a great smile. Wonderful. I wish I could feel the same way. It’s hard sometimes to not feel like I went from being a beautiful man to being an average woman.
I have always had a heavy build even as a baby. I have a rather nordic build, am six feet and two and a stout hundred kilos. This causes me to envy other transwomen I meet whose skeleton does not immediately out them. Although I have met other xx women my height, they usually have a much more delicate bone structure. And I always feel a kinship with them, knowing how we both cannot find clothes off the rack easily. I come from tall people. On my maternal grandmother’s side they are five foot ten women and six foot six men. I suppose my massive bones have been a benefit when I’ve been hit by cars, perhaps pain in life comes from many vectors, and this scar on my soul is what has impacted me.
I feel like my size often outs me. If I speak on the phone people cannot see how large I am, so they often misgender me and I have to correct them. It’s annoying, but feels like a minor point compared having doubts I will never be able to enjoy sex completely and without reservation.
I also realize that looking at my childhood my chronic depression has been lifelong. It never really hit me until the trifecta of my mother’s cancer, my parents breakup, and her death hit me at ages 9-12. It feels like a genetic predisposition, which, considering my paternal grandmother killed herself a couple of years before I was born it is quite likely.
Compared to other genetic dis-eases mine would perhaps seem trivial to most. I wish I could feel the same way. That I am still generally able bodied has probably increased my internalized guilt, shame, and transphobia for being who I am. I hope that through this process of writing perhaps I can better understand myself, and the cosmos I experience.
monday is a day of long black tears
with heart torn and heavily bruised.
where i wonder again why didn’t i kill myself
so long ago, before i had met you.
only the simple joy of folding laundry
can save my life now.
why can’t i say goodbye to those
who go away, without remorse?
as a preteen i lost my mother
i should have just ended it all
way back then. for now i still have
the monumental pain of losing you.
moonday morning, bleak white sky
of winter. i only need to find
my direction again. a reason
to live again. without you in my life.
for now i am at a loss
with no reason to get up in the morning
and little hope of finding work.
and i wonder what i am to do with myself.
for what is my true reason for living?
how can i pull myself together and
find a way to make a new life?
it seems now all i can do is paint and sigh.
why? did i have to pin my heart on you.
no one should ever hang their reason for living
on the life and love of a lover, and yet
that is exactly what i made the mistake of doing.
i must refocus my heart to
the broadest face of humanity.
and live for strangers as well as
dear lovers and ancestors.
yet i will still long always
for the warmth of your
soft touch, and your sweat singing
salty on my skin in the night.