Painting the colors of the wind

-"Why do you love me?", I ask in a particularly vulnerable moment. "What is it about me that makes you love me?"
-"You're asking me to paint the colors of the wind", you say, referencing a Disney movie we've both seen. "I know what love is, and I know I love you, but I can't explain it or describe it." I wasn't satisfied with that answer, but I let the matter rest. You wouldn't have been able to give me a better one. But I keep thinking about it, and about that allegory. 

Because it's true, you can't paint the wind. Not in a realistic way. That doesn't mean it can't be painted, though. First of all, it's possible to do it in a more abstract way. Just like an abstract painting can express emotions or moods, I'm certain it's possible to paint the wind as well. It's also possible to use lines or colors to suggest wind, much like Disney does in that specific movie during that specific song. More relevant to my original query, though, is painting the wind by painting what the wind DOES. You may not be able to see the wind, but you can see the trees bending, leaves being pulled from the branches. You can't see the air, but you can see dust swirling or someone's hair getting blown into their face. You can't realistically, truthfully, paint the wind, but you can paint the effects it has on it's surroundings. 

I think that leads me to the answer I would have wanted.  Just like I can't see the wind in a painting, I can still be convinced that it's there from the way someone's dress is blown to the side. Of course you can't describe an emotion. It's impossible. I don't expect you to. But you can tell me what effect that emotion has on our surroundings... And that might convince me that it's really there. 

Do I need that from you? Most of the time, no. But in my most vulnerable moments, yes. I need to believe that you love me. I need those words of affirmation. Even if, perhaps especially if, they're difficult for you to express. 

And since I'm asking for it from you, it's only fair that I try to paint the wind myself: 

I love you. It's the sort of love that makes my thoughts turn towards you, like a plant towards the sun, even when we're far apart; I think about something we've done or might someday do, I want to share something with you that I think you'd enjoy, I ponder something you said or some experience we had. You're in my mind many, many times every waking hour, regardless of where I am or what I'm doing. 

Thinking of you makes me feel optimistic. I always look forward to seeing you again. I smile when I think about you, and feel a flutter in my stomach, a tingling, happy sensation. Touching you makes that feeling stronger, and cuddling with you is one of the best sensations in the world. I love touching your body, your face, love having your lips against mine. Feeling you skin against mine, your breathing, your warmth, I can breathe too. I'm home. 

I love looking at you. Observing you when you talk about something you're passionate about, or seeing that quirky little smile of yours when you know you're being cheeky. I love the vulnerability you show me, when you dare to let down your guard. I love looking into your eyes and feeling connected with you. I love those emotional sparks that fly when we really bond over something. Some concept or piece of knowledge that makes us both smile. I love watching you when you really think about something, or when some epiphany you have remind me how bright you really are. 

I love exploring your mind, and through that process also exploring my own. I love how your trust in me, makes me trust myself more. We push each other into new experiences. I grow and develop with you, in ways that would have been near impossible on my own. You make me want to do better, be better, than what I am now. 

Your kindness, gentleness, beauty.. Your empathy, your humor, your mind.. Your strength and vulnerability... All wrapped up in one... all you. Not loving you was never an option. It was never a choice. I couldn't help but fall in love with you, and I'm so glad I did. You make my life better, in every way conceivable. I'm so glad I met you, and I'm so grateful you seem to love me too.

That feeling of love for you, which cannot be described in itself, influences every part of my life, every waking hour, every decision I make. Sure the love, the wind, cannot be painted. Whether it can or not is frankly irrelevant... Because my life is so full of love for you these days, it's impossible to describe any part of it without all of that love shining through. I can't paint the colors of the wind, but when there's a storm, the landscape sure looks different. You can't see the wind, but the effects are undeniable. Love, undeniable. 

Theoretically bisexual

Ok, so I'm starting to admit that I like women. (Yes, that first link is from a post 1,5 years ago.. Yes, I'm slow, I know. Show mercy, will you.)  

Not just trans women, either. All women. Sexually and romantically. I've claimed cis women trigger my dysphoria because our bodies are so similar (and I hate my own), and that's true. Yes. But not the complete truth. 

The reason I get dysphoric over my attraction to women, is because I'm not into women "in a gay way". I'm into women in "a straight way". A "man way". Being seen as a gay woman, a lesbian or a bisexual woman, is SO WRONG on so many (gendered) levels. THAT'S what's been triggering most of the dysphoria. Whether it's other people, or the woman herself, is irrelevant; Having my attraction toward her be read as a "lesbian thing" is the problem. Having the woman interested in me, LIKE SHE WOULD BE in a woman... Responding to my flirting as though I'm ALSO a woman.. That is the major hurdle. 

A lot of capital letters there, but it felt like such an epiphany to me. I knew I was into men "in a gay way", knew I had a "thing" for homosexual guys.. Realizing I'm into women "in a straight way" is a very small and very logical step, but it still feels like such a revelation. 

That's why I can't admit to being attracted to women. Why I'm "theoretically bisexual", but have never fallen in love with a cis woman. It's because I'm not a woman.

Duh.

The Gremlin is still wrong

After realizing I was trans, after realizing I could get MY OWN dick sucked, I lost my fetish for giving blow jobs. That's apparently part of a pattern that keeps happening. After I realized I want MY OWN beard, I lost my single-minded fascination for bearded men. I still think they're hot, just like I still enjoy giving blowjobs, but it's much less of a need, an urge, a kink. 

So how do I know what's really a preference, what's gender envy, and what's dysphoria? That's a really frustrating conundrum. I touched upon this when I wrote about Cord, another afab trans person. His body made me feel more dysphoric about my own. I've since concluded this might be part of the reason why I've never been THAT attracted by women.. Or let myself get that attracted to women. Because they trigger my dysphoria, by being what I tried and failed to be. 

(Don't get me wrong: I've had sex with women before. That can be fun. But it's felt very different from men, and I've never been in love with a cis woman before. I didn't think I could be. Now I'm not so certain.)

I've encountered this same phenomenon with trans women. They trigger my dysphoria sometimes, because they desire, for themselves, all the things I hate about me. I'm still attracted to them, though, which should say something about my capacity to become attracted to cis women. I don't know why trans women feel "safe" when cis women do not.. Might simply be about body parts, or might be something about the shared trans experience. (I expect trans people to understand me, in a way a cis person never truly can.) I don't know.

Anyway, the real conundrum these days is my porn habits: I want pussy; Women with vulvas. Not trans men, not trans women, not people with strap-ons, and CERTAINLY not cis men. No dicks in my porn please. I want cunts. Why? What's up with that? Why doesn't THAT trigger my dysphoria? It makes no sense to me, no sense at all. 

Sure, I've always had a strong preference for watching cis women orgasm. Listening to them. It's really hot. But I've seen gay male porn, and previously found that really hot too. I don't, now. Not anymore. And I can't figure out what this is about.. Am I more single-mindedly attracted to women than I've previously thought? Was it all suppressed, because of my own dysphoria?

The scariest bit is that it makes me doubt myself, again. Is this fascinating with vulvas, based on the fact that I enjoy my own? (I do. Despite occasional dysphoria, and intense euphoria when I use a strap-on, I enjoy masturbating and having sex with my vulva.). 

And if I do enjoy my own vulva so much, can I really be trans? 

It's that brain-gremlin that sits in the back of my head saying "you can't really be trans, you didn't know until you were 35. You're just tricking yourself, thinking this is the Solution to anything, that this explains anything. You've always been a bit miserable, but aren't everyone really? You think you're special, but you're not. You're just a gullible fool, ruining your life in a new and more creative way than before."

And I know it's just a gremlin. I am trans. We've been over this. No, not everyone feels that way. I'm trans. There's plenty of older evidence too, if I look for them. I'm trans. 

The gremlin is wrong.

I also apparently like pussy, a lot more than I've previously realized. 

That doesn't mean the gremlin is any less wrong.

I'm still trans.
Confused as hell.. But still trans.

Sublime loss of control

Novice and I have started experimenting with switching; Me as the bottom, and eventually also more of a sub. It's exciting, exhilarating, and absolutely terrifying. The loss of control is what I crave, what I desire, and it scares me witless at the same time. Yesterday, my hands were shackled to the bed, and they sat between my legs, forcing them apart. I couldn't move, could escape, was wide open and available to them. Exhibitionism dreams. Only my upper body was covered, safe, warm, so top dysphoria wouldn't be triggered.

Then they used my new toy, Zumio E, on me. It's shaped like a pen, with an intensely vibrating tip. They stimulated me way beyond what I would do to myself. No escape, no way to make it stop. Completely out of my hands. All I could do was just lie there and take it. 

Eventually, rolled up on my upper back and spread open even more, I lost control completely. My mind blanked, I couldn't think, didn't know who I was or what was going on. Just for a few seconds each time, but that was enough. That's when my body ejaculated. Ejaculated from clitoral stimuli alone. That's never happened to me before. I could feel it happening, four times in a fairly short time, but it was completely outside of my control.

It was glorious. Sublime. Impossible to really describe with words. I didn't orgasm, but what happened was in many ways better. Because it was so unexpected. So far beyond anything I've experienced before. 

Afterwards, I was a shivering mess of adrenaline. Couldn't stop shaking. I asked for sex, as part of aftercare, because I wanted something ordinary. Something known, something where I'm more in control. So I rode Novice until I came, grinding against one of my new Darque Path grinding toys. 

I felt more myself after that, but 12 hours later I still feel.. Strange. Assume it's some sort of drop, but I don't feel sad or annoyed or anything.. Just a bit out of my mind. Distanced. 

It was SO worth it, though. I want more. Want to do it again! It feels like I've been given a small taste, and that's really triggered a hunger. I've always known I was a switch, but haven't played much on the bottom side since X. Now I've truly gotten to flip the script, and it's... marvelous.

A nameday

February 28th 2023 was a transition anniversary of sorts. Exactly one year earlier, I officially got my name changed to a more masculine first name. 

It's still strange, that new name. It feels foreign, not really me. On the other hand, I can't imagine being named anything else. My old, feminine name feels wrong. Gut-wrenchingly, horrifyingly, jarringly wrong. 

So even though my new name feels new, and strange.. I don't regret changing it. Not even for a second. I'll take "strange" over "horrifying" any day. 

A transition loss

In January just over a year ago, I wrote about transitioning and thereby losing access to female spaces. But it was frankly more of a theoretical exercise, not something I'd really felt. I'm starting to get an inkling of how it really can be, now. Yesterday, on the bus, this beautiful woman got on. She had a big, while coat, her hair was covered in a pale woolen scarf, and all of her was covered by freshly fallen snow. She looked like a snow princess. 

I wanted to tell her. Wanted to compliment her. Wanted to brighten her day. 

I didn't.

If she'd seen me as a man, which she MIGHT have, odds are she'd have considered me creepy. Not kind.

I was on the bus with Novice, and we talked about this. How toxic masculinity and "rape culture" has made compliments from strange men not only unwelcome, but outright threatening. Not because YOU might be dangerous specifically, but because whether or not you ARE dangerous is a lottery.. A lottery with only loosing tickets. A woman only has to be wrong once, to get stalked, raped, or killed. She can't possibly know whether you're a safe person or not, and our entire culture (and probably a ton of personal experience) has taught her not to take that chance. 

So that's something I'm loosing, though my transition. Despite being short (by male standards), and fat, and fairly feminine, I still MIGHT be seen as threatening if I approach a woman I don't know in public. I can no longer, without very careful thought and timing, pay random women compliments. The spontaneity is gone. 

That definitely feels like a loss. A minor one, sure, compared to all I'm gaining, but a loss non the less. One I didn't anticipate, and didn't want. I'll take it, because I want all the rest of the transition stuff, but I'm not happy about it. 

Damn, gender roles suck sometimes. 

The coming crucible

A lot is happening with me and Novice, but it's just.. Good. Not always easy, but natural. Uncomplicated. We've passed three months as a couple now, and I love being with her. We basically live together half the week now, all the time I'm not at home with the kids. We've started talking about this coming summer, casually assuming we're still together then. 

Rationally, I know I'm deep in the throws of NRE. I'm not in my right mind, I can't see them or us clearly yet. I'm in love. I don't FEEL irrational, but based of previous experience (with Elle, Cord and Dane, to name the last three), I know my feelings of longevity and stability aren't to be trusted. 

4-6 months... That's the time most of my relationships break. And 4-8 is a sort of crucible. If we get through those, we're much more likely to last. We're at 3 months now. The tough parts haven't started yet. I know all this, rationally... But it doesn't feel ephemeral or fragile. My relationship with Novice feels firm, stable, trustworthy, equal, loving. Like two pieces of a puzzle, slotting together, as if they were built for each other. We fit. 

I so want to trust that feeling. 

And I'm so afraid I'll loose them, just like I've lost the previous ones. 

I'm burnt..