A moral compass

Elle and I lead very different lives, and I find this to be challenging sometimes. 

I'm fairly straitlaced. Sure I drive too fast occasionally, and sometimes jaywalk, but that's the extent of my illegal activities. I hand back library books on time, I've never tried any illegal drugs, I don't steal hotel towels, I don't shop lift, and I don't buy stuff I suspect is stolen goods. For example. 

Elle isn't like me. I won't go into details, but let's just say her morals are a lot more... Flexible.. Than mine. Sure, she's got a moral code, she's got principles.. But following the law isn't what she does best.. 

She also does stupid shit occasionally. Moments where she just doesn't think at all, does whatever she feels like. It isn't fully her fault, as she's most likely has undiagnosed adhd, but she's still responsible for her own actions. She still needs to face the consequences of them. Lots of people with adhd are capable of following the law (Saint among them).

We've talked about it before, and she's agreed to not smoke when we're due to meet up (or when we're together, for that matter). But we hadn't explicitly talked about other things related to morals and the law. I can't control what she does when we aren't in physical proximity, but I expected her to behave like a law-abiding citizen when we were together. I guess I should have specified more, but I really didn't think I had to. 

It wasn't anything big, but it definitely wasn't right. And I was first furious with her. Then I was disappointed and afraid, mostly for what this could indirectly mean for us as a couple; I really want to be able to trust her. Then I grew hesitant and blaming myself, like I typically do when I try to enforce boundaries. 

In the end, she made things right, apologized to me, and we talked it through. So I think we're good... But I still worry: She claims to want to become more law-abiding, and I believe she genuinely means that. I'm just unsure if that desire can trump her tendency to select the "easy" solutions.. Or to just do stupid shit without thinking.. I really hope it can. 

I don't think we'll survive as a couple in the long run if she doesn't change, at least a little bit. (For example, I wouldn't want her near my kids, as the situation stands today.) But I also worry about my desire for her to change. Do I have the right to demand that of her? Of anyone? At what point does my boundaries for my life, infringe on the freedom of someone else's? Why is speeding seen as no big deal, whilst other minor forms of breaking the law are socially condemned? 

I don't really have any answers. Hopefully, she'll manage to grow a moral compass over time, and stay on the straight and narrow. I hope to be a good role model for her. I love her, I want to be with her, but I'm not willing to grow more morally lenient to do so. That's a line I'm not willing to cross.

Perching under a tarp

Elle and I don't have anywhere to meet up, most of the time. She's at work during the day (and so am I, mostly), and in the afternoons and evenings my kids are home so I can't bring her here. She's currently homeless, sleeping on a friend's couch, so we can't go to her place either. The result is that we've spent a lot of time sitting in the front seats of my car. Because at least that way we're alone, without any disturbances. There's very little physical contact possible, because of the center console. And the back seats are full of child seats that aren't practical to move. 

Outside in the evenings, the temperatures vary between 15 and 5 degrees C. There's usually at least a light rain, and there's typically buggs when there isn't. Being outside without shelter therefore isn't really an option. Good tents are expensive, and you'd need somewhere to set up in any case.

A temporary solution has been to buy a huge tarp, open the trunk of the car and then pull the tarp over the car like a makeshift roof. It's not completely enclosed, but at least we have somewhere out of the rain. Blankets, woolly sheep's skins and woollen underwear make it bearable temperature-wise. There really isn't much room in the trunk of my car, though. It's a 2019 Hyundai Ioniq Electric. We have room to sit, barely, but not room to lie down. So we're perching in my trunk, like owls on a tree branch, clinging to each other and cuddling. Occasionally, legs fall asleep or start cramping, and we have to change positions.. But we make it work. 

I'd much rather have had a room somewhere, to be alone with her. But we can't book a hotel room every weekend (we did once, which was wonderful, but it's not sustainable in the long run). And there's nowhere else for us to go. So we make due. It's just another way I feel like a teenager, I guess. 

We've had three of these "tarp dates" now, and it feels special to me. I've never, in my 36 years of life, done anything like this, and I probably won't ever do anything similar with anyone else in the future. Sitting there with her, in our tarp-enclosed semi-darkness late at night, it gives a sense of intimacy like nothing I've ever experienced. I feel safe. Accepted. I feel like I can trust her, and she can trust me. For a moment, we're just... in love. Just people... Gender irrelevant. Body parts irrelevant. 

The previous time we did this, I asked her to play with my boobs a bit. Suck them, touch them. Because I felt like it. Because I didn't feel like any sort of gender right then. And if there is no gender, then there is no dysphoria either. There's just bodies, doing what bodies want. 

She's never been permitted to touch me there before. I'm not certain I'll ever let her do so again. But right there and then, it felt right. And I didn't "disappear" into autopilot. I was still me, both while it was happening and afterwards. Maybe it felt so right, because I trust her to see me, really ME, regardless of how I look, or sound, or what body parts I have. Just like I see her, in the same way. That is a gift, I think, that only T4T can really give (and not all trans people either). 

That beggars the question: If society didn't have gender... If gender wasn't a thing at all.. Would I still feel dysphoria? Would I still want top surgery? Testosterone? I can't be sure. But frankly, I think it's irrelevant. That's not the society we live in. I can't pretend to live in some fantasy world. I have to find a way to make my life in THIS world bearable. To me, the solution is to transition. Both medically and socially. But some trans people don't want to transition, and that's perfectly fine too. They're still trans. (If you don't understand that last part, read this.)

Anyhow: Tarp dates. Better than nothing. But DAMN, I'm looking forward to the time when she gets a new place to live and we can actually hang out alone together indoors. 

Autopilot

I sometimes look at myself in the mirror, looking through her eyes. Judging me by her standards, by feminine beauty standards, and falling short. Way, WAY short. Growing into an increasingly ugly woman. Being horrified. 

And then I snap out of it. I remind myself that I'm not a woman. I see myself as I really am, and I revel in what I'm becoming. I remind myself that SHE is a ghost. A dying remnant of who I used to be, who I thought I was. 

The problem is that she keeps cropping up. Like a weird autopilot, suddenly taking over. Or.... No. Not suddenly. Insidiously. Like smoke, seeping into my brain, eventually choking you. A slowly heating pot, with a frog inside. And once that frog is cooked, once my brain is all in "girl mode", the autopilot runs everything. I eventually get back to myself again, and I hate myself for letting it happen, hate the ease, the comfort, the fake facade. Yet it keeps happening. 

I would have been (even more) filled with self-doubt, worrying I wasn't trans, if I didn't already know that this could happen. I've watched videos on Youtube (for example Dr. Z, she's great) and talked to other transmasc people. I know the brain follows the most familiar path, because it's the easiest. So carving out a new path takes time and repetition. This is apparently normal. It's part of the process for many trans people.

One of the settings where I struggle the most to stay present, is sexually. This is also where it hurts the most when I slip up, because the distinction is so clear. It feels so different. This is particularly the case of being a top/dom/sadist, because it's such a familiar, feminine role for me. And it's not that I don't enjoy myself in the moment. I absolutely do! But it's a veneer, and underneath it is a seething turmoil of dysphoria that I'm suddenly shut off from. You'd think that would be comforting, but it's actually terrifying. I'm terrified of going back to where I was. I know rationally that there's no putting the transness back in the box again, but the worry is still there. I'm afraid I'll slip into "girl mode" and not get back out again. 

When I was with Student yesterday, he wanted to try the torture tie on the leg. I wasn't wearing a binder then, as I'd worn it for too many hours already and my titts hurt. I was naked, and so was he. Just tied up in rope. I didn't notice I'd fallen into "girl mode" until we were done. By then, I was shaking, really upset with myself, hating myself for "letting" it happen, and mentally really tired. I wanted to just pack up and leave. Luckily, Student gently convinced me to stay. To re-connect. 

First he suggested I put on the strap-on or packer. I chose the strap-on, as it has the most powerful grounding effect on me. I then put the binder back on too. With those two modifications to my body, I could feel myself coming back to myself. Settling. Shoulders down, muscles more relaxed. My body was my own again, my mind was at ease. The autopilot was off, the girl was gone (for now), and I could breathe again. Think again. Exist again. I'm very glad he insisted I stay, and pushed me to re-connect. Would probably have dropped like a stone afterwards, if he hadn't. 

I need to integrate these different parts of me, whilst keeping hold of the "self" that I now know myself to be. I don't really know how, though. For now, my focus is to stay present. Even when I'm neck deep in dysphoria triggering stuff. Even when naked. Even when hurting someone, or being fucked, or tying them up. I keep slipping... But I hope I'll get better at catching myself. Stopping myself. 

You can't work on a problem, if you don't first acknowledge that the problem exists. I've acknowledged it. Now I just have to keep working on it. 

I feel it, I own it, I try to fix it

Caveat: This blog post is obviously inspired by my feelings for Elle, but it's not really about her. I'm using they/them, because it could be about any one of my current, previous or future romantic partners. It's just general pondering on my own mental gremlins. 

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The downside of being in love with someone, is that I want to see them all the time. I need them, all the time. That's just how NRE (new relationship energy) works.. But my time is limited, my obligations (willing obligations!) to my family are many. So balancing it all becomes tricky. And when I have available time, and my love can't / won't (which is also valid!) spend time with me, I feel adrift. Like a boat cut loose from its mooring. 

What I'm trying to accept, is that my feelings are my responsibility. Mine alone. I can't demand someone's time, just because I want it. Loving them and being loved in return, doesn't give me the right to demand anything. The fact that I feel discomfort when I'm alone, isn't anyone else's responsibility but mine. I need to sit with that discomfort. Own it. Deal with it. Because it's my responsibility to fix me, no anyone else's. However, internalizing this lesson is hard. It's all a work in progress. 

I think this feeling of loneliness is linked to trauma from bullying; Feeling left out, feeling alone, watching everyone else having fun with each other. Knowing I couldn't join them. Now as an adult, I don't feel this way in purely sexual relationships (there's always more fish in the sea). I'm very slightly triggered by friends having fun without me, but not strongly at all. It's mainly romantic relationships that make me struggle with these feelings, especially new romantic relationships. 

In a new relationship, you're trying to figure out how each other work, and how to work together as a couple. There are no routines, nothing can be taken for granted. So when they need more alone time than I do, when they have obligations that get in the way of us spending time together, or when they simply don't want to spend half their fucking week hanging out with me... I get uncertain. I worry they don't feel the same way as I do, worry that they'll find me clingy, needy. Worry I'm too much... And I feel alone. I feel like they're not choosing me. And sometimes that's true. They aren't. They shouldn't have to. My feelings are my responsibility. 

I was batting around, in my head, whether this is jealousy, or envy, but I don't think it's either of them. I'm not jealous of some hypothetical third party "stealing" my partner from me. What they're doing when they're not with me, is pretty irrelevant for my own feelings of insecurity. They could be fucking someone else, or they could be watching tv alone, to me that's completely irrelevant. The point is that I wasn't chosen, not the activity they've chosen to do in stead. I don't feel it's a competition.  

Nor am I envious that they're having a good time without me. In fact, I'm glad they're having a good time without me. I want them to have a good time. Regardless of whether I'm with them or not. 

I think it's just my own insecurity, coupled with trauma. I don't handle being alone very well. Alone with my own thoughts.

Is this really a defense against dysphoria? Some old "robot" trying to keep me from thinking too much, feeling too much, being too present..? Or I might realize I'm trans..? Is that it? 

Or is it just trauma, and blaming it on dysphoria is an easy way out?

Regardless, it's my mind, so it's my responsibility.

Flame on

Elle and I are officially together now. We had that talk on August 10th. Last night, we admitted we love each other. 

We're both the kinds of people who love hard and fast, our feelings completely running away with us. And fascinatingly, we both worry the other person will be scared off.. Afraid we're "too much". We aren't. Not for each other. I love her, she loves me. It's true. It's enough.

We've also talked about how often those feelings burn hard and then burn out. My pattern is that we either last for 2-6 months... Or suddenly last for years. Though everything else is changing for me these days, so for all I know that pattern will change too. Who knows.

I hope we last. But we might not. And that's ok too. I want to really enjoy this, live in the moment. The future is uncertain anyway.

Flame on! 

Like decommissioned robots

After writing the previous post, I'm physically shaking. I feel somewhat dizzy and short of breath. Anxiety of some sort. 

This is obviously an incredibly difficult topic for me to write about. The physical reaction seems out of proportion though.. I've thought these thoughts before, talked to people about this before.. It's like there's something more here, some leap my conscious mind hasn't taken yet. I keep writing, and whenever I feel the anxiety getting worse, that means I'm on the right track.. I'm using my physical feelings and a sort of compas when navigating my emotional ones.

It feels like it's somehow connected to this post about admitting that I'm trans. Because I am trans. Loving it when someone sucks on a strap-on, is unsurmountable proof that I'm trans. Can I finally stop fighting myself? Can I finally believe it?

These strategies my mind made, to protect me from the truth for so many years... They didn't disappear when Pandora's box was opened. All the strategies are still there, and like decommissioned robots, they keep trying to do their job. Even though that job isn't needed anymore, even though they're superfluous by now. I need to thank my mind for trying to keep me safe for all those years. Maybe I couldn't realize I was trans before, because I just wasn't ready for that knowledge. I'm not sure it was the best thing for me, but I can't know that for sure. 

Thank you, brain, for working so hard to keep that awareness away from my waking mind. Thank you for trying to protect me. You can lay down that burden now. You can stop working so hard, so frantically. I'm trans. I won't get any less trans and time passes. This isn't a phase, this isn't fake, there's no need to try to protect me from the truth anymore. 

 

Loving it when Elle calls me "Sir", is proof that I'm trans. Loving dressing in men's clothing, loving the increase of hair on my belly, loving that I need to shave my fledgling mustache, is proof that I'm trans. Hating it whenever someone says "she" about me, or in other ways misgender me, is proof that I'm trans. Loving my deepening voice, is proof that I'm trans. Changing my name, is proof that I'm trans. Wanting to get my boobs removed, is proof that I'm trans. Feeling a kinship with other trans people, is proof that I'm trans. 

The fact that I feel like a non-binary man inside, is proof that I'm trans. The only proof I or anyone else should need. 

I'm trans. 

I'm trans. 

I. Am. Trans.

If I say it three times in a mirror, does a trans person appear? Appear for all to see, even me? 

I hope so. 

I've had enough of hiding.

Tethering to stay present

Back around Christmas I wrote a couple of entries about how I felt like I'd lost my place in the kink community because I've lost the "femdom" label. I also concluded that I've probably been service topping for many, many years, without much regard for my own needs or wants. Because the pre-"egg crack" mind makes some really convoluted twists and turns, to avoid thinking consciously about the fact that you're trans. 

Lately, I've started exploring kink again. It's a REAL struggle to stay out of "girl mode" when I'm on top. Like a car driving on a road with deep ruts, I keep falling back in whenever I lose concentration. The worst part is that once I'm down there, I usually don't really notice it's happened. It's like putting on a very well worn pair of gloves. It's easy. Familiar. In stead, I start dissociating. I'm an excellent service top, and to some extent I'm enjoying myself.. But I'm not really present, and I always feel really bad afterwards. It's not a place I want to be. It's not a role I want to have. 

Same thing happens whenever I have sex (or do anything sexual) without the binder. It happened with War, as well as with the boardgames, titts-fetish dude I hooked up with the other day. The sex is ok, the experience isn't actually BAD... And, I mean, I do enjoy my nipples being played with. It's not fake. But I feel terrible afterwards. Super dysphoric. So it's not really worth it. 

I keep zoning out when trying to write this post. My mind shields away from the topic. Even though the trans sleeper has awakened, thinking about these things is still so uncomfortable that my mind is trying to distract me from it. And whilst those were viable tactics before, as a way of surviving, they aren't conductive strategies for dealing with my life anymore. I need to handle this, need to think these thoughts, need to integrate my trans-self into the rest of me. Need to counteract 35 years of conditioning. So, to get back to the topic at hand: 

I feel like I'm making progress. Last time I played with Elle, I noticed when I was slipping. I managed to stop, tell her what was going on, and do something to ground myself in the present. Ground myself in my gender. Then we continued. I've also become a bit better at not just doing things I think the other person would enjoy, but ask myself: Would I enjoy that? If the answer is "not really", I don't do it. I'm not always able to do this, but I'm getting better. 

The grounding, for now, has been all about the dick. I've bought an amazing packer from MorMe. It arrived a couple of days ago, and I've worn it almost continuously (when awake) since then. Last time I handled a packer, it didn't go well.. But I've thought a lot about bottom dysphoria since then, and suspected I'd end up liking it, and I was right: 

Wearing it, touching it, seeing it, is both affirming and grounding. It tethers me more strongly to my own gender identity, makes it less likely that I'll just float away and dissociate. Watching myself touching the head of the packer in the mirror, I can actually feel the touch in my clit. The mind is amazing sometimes. 

However, the packer isn't enough in a long play session. I can still feel myself slipping away, and with Elle last time I managed to stop it from happening. I swapped the packer for the strap-on, and that worked; Seeing myself with an erect dick is the most amazing feeling. Shoving it into someone's mouth feels amazing, and just being touched is pretty amazing as well. I've ordered the Joystick from Transthetics, which will hopefully be even better. 

There's more to this, but that needs a separate post. Read on. 

My trio of lovers

I started this blog back in 2009, originally as a way to chronicle when I had sex (and with whom). I've been mostly faithful to that original intent, with a lot of other stuff (gender, kink, philosophy, psychology..) thrown in the mix. However, with all the sex I'm having these days, I can't POSSIBLY keep up. I'd have to make an actual diary to do that, and post every single day. Which I'm not going to. I have a life outside the internet, after all. 

So you'll get what you get. Snippets and snatches, summaries and short stories. I'll keep writing, not to chronicle, but only when I feel I have something to say. Or more likely, when I have something I need to work through. 

I've more or less stopped seeking random hookups on Grindr and Tinder these days. I've got a few people who've shown an interest, but I feel rather polysaturated. Fully booked. Satisfied. Which is a really, really nice feeling. No longer that desperate prowl for something, anything, to stave my desires. My crowd, my three lovers, are working out exactly as I was hoping they would:

There's Student, the 21 year old. Cisman, pansexual, typically hooks up with men and amab's. Beautiful beard. Hairy, just the way I like men to be... Awkward in that utterly charming neurodivergent way that I tend to like. The chemistry is good enough, the sex is good enough, that I keep being interested. But never so good that I truly fall for him. It's perfect. We've also started playing boardgames, and he seems to like Agricola. So that's even better. We cuddle, we fuck, we play, we chat. A proper "friend with benefits". We've met over 10 times now, and he feels familiar and safe.

There's Elle. 24 years old, transwoman, pansexual. Not done any medical transition yet. She's feminine, playful, wonderfully vulnerable, and yields to my every touch. We're having a lot of fun together, exploring kink and sex like only two trans people can do. I'm definitely crushing on her, and look forward to getting to know her even better.

There's NN, he's 33 and genderfluid. A foreigner originally, but he's lived here for quite a few years. He's got a stunning body, a voice that makes me melt, and I feel like he can see right through me sometimes. I also really love his brain... With the other two, I feel like I'm the most competent, the most experienced, the most in control... NN is different. I might be older, but I feel like he's the most experienced of the two of us. At least, he's an old hand at simply being queer and being with queer people. I learn from him, every time I see him. He helps me grow, challenges me. We've only met a couple of times so far, so I don't know what we'll morph into over time. But I'm looking forward to finding out.

These are my crew, my crowd. They don't know each other (though Elle and Student have met), but all three suffer from the strange affliction that they actually seem to want me. The reach out to me, seek to spend time with me, desire me. I'm happy about it, by all means, but it's also completely baffling.