Translation

Okay, since I’ve mentioned in a few times in my recent entries and it seems to be a source of distress for me, people have latched on to this trans thing.  Because I don’t want my diary to be about that, and because it might actually help me to discuss it openly, I’m going to make an entry on the subject.  I will try to keep this fairly short.

For a very long time, since I was a teen at least, I have felt like I should have been born a girl.  I didn’t relate to the other boys, didn’t like the things they did, didn’t feel the way they did about traditionally masculine things.  I still liked girls and still do, but that’s as far as our similarities went.

I freely discussed this with my friends while in my twenties but at those times the idea of sex changes was new, super expensive, and mostly mythologized.  I admitted to them, however, that I would do it if I could.  But I couldn’t and it never happened.

My friends recognized it.  They often described me to others as a “lesbian trapped in a man’s body” not like that joke (all men are) but in a more honest way.  “If such a thing existed,” they would say, “he’d be it.” … turns out such things do exist.

I didn’t have sex for the first time until I was in my mid-twenties and immediately discovered I didn’t like it.  It wasn’t the girl I was with, I appreciated her, but I got no real sexual satisfaction out of it – it felt like there was simply something missing.  I tried a few more girls over the years and the problem was always with my body’s inability to connect with my emotional desires.  They would touch me and it simply felt … wrong … like I was the wrong half of the equation.  I was always very attentive to my lovers and their needs but the moment they tried to reciprocate, I pushed their hands away and redirected the flow … the only joy I received was in seeing them enjoy themselves.

As the years progressed, I found myself more and more repulsed by images of heterosexuality and my heart hurt every time I saw a lesbian couple in real life or media.  I felt like that was where I belonged, that was how I would find what I yearned for.

But then I look in the mirror.  I’m middle aged, I’m developing a bald spot, medication made my teeth rot out and now I have to wear dentures, and I look like a man.  I would never pass as a woman.  And even if I could, that’s not what I want.  I don’t want to be a middle-aged man transformed into a middle-aged woman.  I want to grow up a girl, understand the experience of dealing with all the things I tackled, but as a girl.  Yeah, I’d be a lesbian and that would be a challenge – but it would be my challenge to face.  I want to live that life, not adopt it now that my life is over.  It isn’t a costume I want to wear it’s … a lot deeper than that.

A noter on OD once told me (in response to a comment on this subject) “well I know what I am, god made me a woman” to which my response was “god made me a woman, too, but nature fucked up and made me a man”.

Transition might be right for some people, I’ve no doubt it is, but not for me.

So, yeah, it might come up from time to time here – if it’s on my mind – but it’s really just lamenting for something I know will never change.  I don’t expect answers or reassurance, it’s a part of my life I came to mostly accept a long time ago.  That’s why I usually tell people I’m asexual, as that’s a lot easier to explain.

(Of course, there’s a lot more history, emotion, struggle, etc. involved in all of this but I wanted to keep it to one fairly short post as it’s not one of my favorite subjects to talk about.)