August 1, 2014

Dum Dum Dum, Dummy Doo Wah

My weekly therapy session with Nancy this week ended up being mostly about companionship — that is, my lack of it and my desire for it. I can’t say that the conversation left me in an optimistic mood.

This all came up in session because I mentioned that I was lonely. Which is am. It’s not a huge deal, I’m more of a loner anyway, but I am generally surrounded nowadays by people in stable relationships and it’s hard not to look at them and wish I had the same. Call it jealousy if you like. I wouldn’t deny it.

It was weird to be asked a question like “what type of guy do you like?” The honest answer is I just don’t know. I spent most of my life hating maleness in general, and so I never really thought about it. And now, I don’t have enough experience to articulate it. I know I hate dudebros — that is unequivocal. But beyond that, do I have a ‘type’? Search me.

And let’s be honest, in the best of circumstances I’m firing an impossibly long shot in a very small target population in regards to companionship. A straight man who’s secure enough with his sexuality to look past my transgender nature is a rare breed, indeed. And for that man to also be decent and interesting and smart and funny and not some tranny chaser just looking for the thrill? Now you’re talking one-in-a-million. I only know of one such man, and he is already taken.

The sexuality of trans women is interesting. It seems like most of the women I know fall into one of two camps. Some of them consider themselves some variety of LGB and they either date cis women or other trans women. In fact, the number of relationships I’m aware of which involve two trans women is surprisingly high. They seem to be all over the Internet, but I also know some women locally who are in such relationships.

The other kind are the ones who have remained in a relationship with their spouse / fiancee / girlfriend even after they begin transition. They will generally claim that the relationship they have is above sexuality, that labels aren’t important, and that therefore they wouldn’t classify themselves as straight, gay, or whatever. Jenny Boylan is in this camp, partially, though she’s gone so far to say that she’d be a straight woman if she didn’t have her wife.

I don’t fit in either of those camps. I am a straight woman, albeit one saddled with the wrong plumbing and a body misshapen by testosterone. I’m also closing in on forty; I also have three children that are an active part of my life. I am, in other words, a hard sell.

As I finish typing this, I’m sitting on my front porch with my laptop. Daylight is fading; crickets have started chirping in the quiet dusk; and next to me is an Adirondak chair, the twin of the one I’m sitting in but for one difference: the chair is empty.

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