Queer Trans-validation or Questionable Decisions on the Rocks

I will be the first to admit that I’m not perfect. I am human; I err boldly and with reckless abandon. But when hormones and Tom Collins mix, though he’s quite a nice fellow, I make choices that aren’t the best. Let me explain.

I am a queer transman. While I often refer to myself as ‘a raging homo’, I do ultimately just like people and bodies don’t matter to me as much as hearts. I can’t say that I always found myself attracted to men. In high school I dated male cellists exclusively and began identifying as bisexual then lesbian once I got to college. I have only really been with two folks assigned male at birth and both of those instances happened when I was 19. Dating girls was fun and exciting and satisfying for about three years until last year when things came full circle and I embraced that I really am just attracted to queer. Queer-o-sexual. Where’s my letter?

At present, I have returned to being a boy-crazy little queer. People joke that testosterone makes you gay and that tofu does too. I am at high risk for both of these theories, but I don’t believe them. My kind of gay does not come out of a tofu carton. My kind of gay is born and bread and electrified with hormones and confidence. Confidence that sometimes needs a little work. This past weekend I went out to a local gay bar with two of my friends. We danced all night and I got lots of great gay boy grinding action. To be honest, I really enjoyed the high of passing for the night. I had boys touching me all over the place and it seems my bound chest and packed jeans were convincing enough to get me what I wanted. This I would not change. If I could go back and edit that night, I would make sure to communicate to myself a little better. I got talking to a friend of mine at one point and he went on and on about how he thought my transition was beautiful but I need to ‘step it up’ a little bit. After the first re-telling of this story, my brother hit the nail on the head with “what? Step it up and pass?” No, thanks. I continued talking with this friend and we sat down to talk more. My brain started shouting obscenities about how it was a little drunk and needing some action. It shouted over the part of my brain that was listening to the conversation unfolding. The part that would normally prod me to pack my bags and leave. My friend started talking about how he would have thought I was a really hot queer boy had he not known I used to be a woman…

That’s trouble, my friends.

Queer transmen often fall to gay boy validation however we can get it. We will talk about sleeping with people because they were interested and not necessarily any of the other things we look for in partners. Trans and queer indiscretion at its finest. This weekend, I made out with this friend of mine because he is gay and I am too. I know he wasn’t trying to be hurtful but I should never overlook those words just to swap spit with someone.

I am thinking about this a lot now that I am single again. I just ended a five-month relationship that brought me much joy and all of the other things that relationships bring. We will be much better friends than we were as a couple. But ultimately, single is single and I’m not very experienced at it. Only about 8 months of my adult life have been spent outside of a relationship.

I love people. I am a self-professed relationship junkie. This last relationship was poly-amorous in nature. It was worth a shot for me to try and date multiple people simultaneously, but what I found was that I am too old-fashioned for the practice. I reject the idea of ownership in a relationship but I need to belong to someone. My heart desires to exclusively take care of someone. To open doors and make candle lit dinners. To meet their parents and be the source of the spark that gleams in their eye when it meets mine. I want someone to call me baby and to make fun of me for the pet names that escape my lips. I want a place for my heart to hang its hat. Home. It is not that polyamory does not provide these things because my most recent relationship was full of them in special and beautiful ways. I have just come to the conclusion that I have a basic need to be a one-trick pony.

I say all of this because it is what lays underneath my sex-obsessed lines of thought that govern my decisions. I say this to remind myself of my ideal and why it is so important that I look for someone who wants to be respected and to respect me. Interested should not be the only qualification to get into anyone’s pants. Ever.


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