process process

CW harassment.

Things were good yesterday, having dinner with a few friends then going out clubbing, despite some of us facing various sadnesses from other directions and along the path. Maybe this blog will eventually become some sort of mini reverse pervocracy, starting out talking transition stuff, then when that’s mostly in hand, just describing my day to day kink and decadence? Long story short, got to know a friend better than before during evening, realizing I am attracted and would like to be closer. Going out that evening, I therefore had hopes of something happening between us. Usually when I fancy someone I have difficulties because anything I can read as disinterest will make me pessimistic and withdraw emotionally, so I take no risks and ask for nothing; more importantly, the emotional withdrawal makes me less present in the situation, having less fun, being less available. It is mostly here that alcohol helps.

This night I somehow realized I could try to consciously ignore that mechanism, and I realized on the dancefloor that this is what the Maiden is about. She is naïve and happy enough that she does not interpret everything as rejections, so she remains happy and daring and sometimes she is lucky. I made myself present in my body as Maiden, and whenever I felt the alienation feeling of “I don’t grasp the codes” // “she is not interested” // “I am being embarrassing and stupid by doing/not doing this”, I felt her making a horizontal cut between the thought layers, like a lobotomy, not letting logic flow from the worry into inaction. Removing the cause but not the symptom; Frank too certainly was a Maiden. I just kept dancing, and when I felt there was chemistry, I gently expressed my interest, and learned some of the communication as it happened. I don’t think I’ve been this brave before like this.

I did get to know my friend better, and to sleep (though not very deeply) next to her, and to marvel at how she responds to touch, I’ve seen that sort of reactivity before and am jealous of it, hoping perhaps that I might gain it if I add progesterone to my regime. Will there end up a context where I’ve known most of my friendship circle(s) intimately at one point or another? Who knows. But looking back, that always was how I envisioned my life would be like, it’s part of my view on what is wholesome. Heh.

On the way back from the club, my friend and I walked arm in arm and a guy followed us muttering lewd suggestions about “pussy” and “fucking”. He walked very close and it was the first time someone groped my ass, I realized after a while. All in all quite scary, and I was so happy to be there with a girl whispering to me she could take him out with her keys if she had to. He followed all the way to the subway, and I used the minimizing/ignoring/defuse by asking nonsense questions, noncommittal comments, soft distancing, just as I am sure women do every day with this. Still, I was especially afraid since I could not tell how he read us. Did he parse us as cis lesbians or just cis friends? Or did he clock us and saw as us some sort of down-low gay entertainment? The fear of homo-/transphobic violence was there and I could not say whether it was already upon us or not. Basically I feared he might stab us, or that we would have to fight. My companion said it would have been much worse had be not read us as cis, she interpreted us as passing to him throughout. And she fundamentally does pass as cis, so maybe so – this would be a silver lining, beyond just another experience shared with sisters everywhere.

Confessed one crush, will see how that goes. Realizing another old friendship (and maybe two more or so) with smart boys may have been sort of crushes too. In one of those cases, not so sure I will never follow up on it. Hmmm.

oxytocodein

CW lots, NSFW and if you don’t want the dirt on my life, better not read; this one likely will be censored if ever this blog gets connected to my real name

Lots of things happening, mostly good. Work stress from windows of opportunity that opened still looms large but for good or ill I am trying to not let it edge out all social life. So went to check out new club friends are setting up, then on Sunday joined up with said people to go dance during day 2 of a big gay rave. Continued to program on the train to there. This is my life now? I seem to be becoming exactly who I’d dreamed to be, with all the upsides and downsides thereof.

Second party day was interesting. Clocked by drag queens who complimented me, felt OK but not connected. Gave out my business card to a woman in the darkroom, and to the woman manning the door. Dancing was great, thought I saw Asbjørn by the DJ booth, had some guy dancing very physically with me. I realized after a while I wasn’t so comfortable with that, and had an interesting exercise pushing him away subtly, though it was only when I gave clear hand signals he desisted. Felt like another rite of passage.

My companions offered various drugs, weed and ecstasy and speed. Partook of some of each, but small amounts as I couldn’t know how they would affect me; tried only the former before. Neither of the latter really felt much, or gave much beyond the venue itself. May be more on higher doses, which seems inadvisable. Not same coziness as from MDMA, which I definitely should be careful with. I think there was a slightly higher longing-to-be-hugged within one hour, and a tendency to talk a lot and be social within three, and then a tendency to shiver after six or nine. The only E I would want to use habitually would be estradiol, though. Picked up my new patch scripts for that today.

Drugs aside, the party was nice. I mostly spent time with a friend who is also trans. We watched the men in the darkroom basically just go full on sex without much context or communication (though clearly always with consent and hopefully condoms) and were uncertain on what the codes for that actually are. Later that evening we ended up making out, which I had not expected or planned for at all, but found delightful; there may be a scent dimension I had missed beyond “smelling sexy” // “not smelling sexy” which is “tasting good” // “tasting distracting”. Slowly observing increased granularity of this. My friend tasted good, and we ended up at her place spending the rest of the night touching and kissing.

This is the first time I am intimate with another trans woman after starting transition myself, and it was a very powerful and liberating experience I hope we will repeat (having a bundle of unspecific emotions that will be happily sorted out later). Recognizing how I cannot parse the sense of her as anything but female, and receiving the same in return, helps me stay hopeful that my efforts are working, and I found that circumstances of mutual dysphoria made it a little easier to be seen in my pre-op state. Also recognizing I’m not really functioning like I want to. Curious on what adding progesteron might do, and if I need to relearn how to climax at this point; experiments with high-end vibrators upcoming when there’ll be time.

Noticing also, in link with the darkroom exchanges, the dance floor exchanges and so forth: sudden intimacy with a stranger might not scare me but it feels dissociated and dispassionate. I recognize this largely is a stereotyped social construct, but I think that with reduced libido I may not be able to get in the mood without some form of relational buildup and activation. Essentially feeling what may be typical of lesbian vs gay male club hookups. More data needed. All in all, happily recognizing that my casual encounters might have to build on serious friendships and that I can’t go from 0 to full libidinality without buildup. I hadn’t recognized what the latter feels like. Essentially, sexual dimensions seem empty and boring until they have been contextualized enough?

further c-c-c-changes

I weigh more than I want and was thinking. Need to take this seriously because of the way it intersects with dysphoria and body remodeling, and with preparations for future surgery (I think I can say now I want it. I think I am still sure I want to do it with Chettawut). It will happen. Just gets complicated because at this point, I’m finding that I get slightly more tired in the evenings than I would need to be for the work I want to do if I fast. Maybe it is time to look into other dietary strategies. I’ll try synbiotic supplements again for all we see from metagenomics point to it helping.

More interesting, bra shoulder straps have kept slipping down over shoulders for some time. Assumed they had stretched/expanded and today set out to adjust. But they were almost as tight as they could. Then removed the band extender, as bra generally felt loose. Fit much better. Of course, it probably did stretch some. But what I also must conclude is that my band size has decreased, my shoulders have slimmed, enough to change clothes fit. While even gaining weight. My anatomy is changing and I look at this fact with the same reverence as I would look at my baby.

Oh, and another thing I forgot too. Going by smell, I can wear dresses for several more days than I could a few months ago. My sweat may have changed further, I don’t actually sense it myself.

We move.

strike

Third time so far I was explicitly harassed by people in broad daylight where it can be cleanly attributed to transphobia rather than anything else. On a large public square, two teenagers with pig-like features prodded my attention to take headphones off, then spoke to me in the local language. I responded twice in English that I don’t understand, then went away. Could understand enough, something about mother and father, something about trannies. I felt unsafe, even with other people around, and that lack of safety in a physical sense angers and saddens me. And of course, I am mostly sad and bitter that random strangers clock me as trans.

I didn’t set out expecting to “pass“ as cis and still do not. Yet I want to. I’ll note that less than 8 months HRT is only partial puberty. No-one can tell where this goes but of course I have hopes. More to the point, I have a will to act. I’ll get as far as I can.

Later an old woman smiled some at me. That made me feel a little better.