10.31.2012

Tricks of the treats.

A while back, I was asked how I managed to fall in love. It took a while to really get my mind around the idea, but I think it has to do with rain.

When I was 14, I loved a girl. One day in those rare Texas downpours, we decided to run around in the rain, and just be happy innocent children who loved each other. I had kissed a girl before, but it wasn't something I felt comfortable doing, hell I still don't like making the first move. I remember looking at her, completely soaked, while the sun came out, and wanting to kiss her so badly but not being able to.

That is one of my favorite memories. It was replicated last January. I think that is why I fell so hard, and so fast. I was already deeply fond and contemplating loving my new partner at the time, but that night, and into the next day, while we walked around in the snow, playing in the snow, laughing, I remember being so intensely happy and at ease. The funny thing is, I still couldn't kiss her. I wanted to, and now even a decade later, I still couldn't kiss her in that moment. I felt 14 years old again.

I don't remember if I was in love back then, we grew apart as people do as they grow up, but I remember little things. The placement of cute moles, the smell of her hair and her room, music, and laying around just making out all day. Butterfly kisses, oh god we were so disgustingly cute.

There, is a difference when you're an adult, though. The other aspect, I think, was that I was able to let my guard down for once. All my normal methods of keeping people at a distance, of letting them in slowly, just didn't work. It felt like, for once, I didn't have to worry about things.

I don't know if I desire that again, I think I'm romanticizing it a bit more, and emphasizing the peak of the goods, rather than the ludicrous quantity of lows.

I've started therapy again, which, I think will help. Things are alright at the moment, but there is a unnerving hollowness lurking in the back of my mind that I fear is waiting for an opportune moment to  carve out my motivation and insides.

I miss having passion in my life though, I miss feeling like I belonged to someone, and the entire physical spectrum that comes with being in an D/S relationship. I'm debating throwing an ad up, but I'm not sure I'm ready for that just yet.

10.22.2012

Assaults

So, I've never really talked about this before. Forgive me if this is a bit scattered. I don't remember precisely when, but I know it was soon after moving to Austin, so around 2004 or 2005. This would make me around 19 or 20 at the time.

This was pre-transition, when I was first trying to figure out who I was. I began talking to a guy, I'm not sure where I met him, maybe on Myspace, or something (it was the all the rage back then). We talked back and forth for a couple of days and he seemed nice. We decided to meet in person in a parking lot. I was young and naive as you can see. We met up in our cars and he convinced me to go back to his place. He seemed nice enough and I had no reason not to. I opted to follow him, rather than have him drive me. Even then I didn't trust people easily, but I still liked to give them the benefit of the doubt. This, would get me into trouble multiple times.

We got to his place and he offered me a drink, I opted for soda despite his ramblings of the marvels of alcohol. We began by sitting on the couch and watching something. He began to run his hands up my legs and fondle me. I was nervous, and uncomfortable. He was nice, and cute, but I didn't want to mess around with someone I barely knew. I don't remember if he asked if it was okay, and I don't remember if I said it was fine or not. I have a tendency in situations like this, to convince myself that it is okay, when it isn't, and to simply silently endure it until it is over.

This fondling progressed, I asked him to keep things above the belt. I was ignored. Before I knew it he was in my pants and touching me. He asked if I wanted him to perform oral sex, I declined, and he continued to touch me, while touching himself.

I became introspective. I started asking myself questions about what I wanted, wasn't this what I wanted, wasn't he nice, did I have reasons to not reciprocate, why wasn't I into this act, and so forth. I figured at this point I would simple force myself into it. I moved and began to touch him in return. I found strange, issues to focus on during this. After some time I orgasmed, and cleaned myself up. He did as well soon after, and we made small talk for a while before I left.

I drove home crying furiously, unable to explain why, or how everything had just happened. I got home and quickly cleaned myself up. He tried to contact me again in a few days, saying he hoped he didn't scare me of. I never spoke to him again.

I did, once, write this all out to a friend of mine, but I've never spoken of it other than that one instance.

I mentioned before that giving people the benefit of the doubt would get me into trouble again. It did, soon after I moved to Seattle. This was in 2011, post transition. I had met with a couple on OKCupid, in a nearby Starbucks that I was fond of visiting. They seemed...nice, if not idiosyncratic and strange. We didn't discuss my gender. The man talked for most of the conversation, and the woman had trouble with English but we made small talk. We finished our drinks and then decided to go to a nearby pub for alcoholic drinks.

The pub was both awkward and uncomfortable. They knew a few people but I didn't know anyone. I made introductions I knew I wouldn't remember. I got a bit buzzed and we decide to go meet up with a friend of theirs. This friend turned out to live across the street from me.

By the time we finish these drinks, I'm still only buzzed but it is late, and they complain about the buses no longer running. Not knowing how they would then get home, in the cold/rain, I thus offered them a place to sleep, at my apartment. Again, I did not specifically trust them, but gave them the benefit of the doubt. We talk for a good while, and he begins to ask if I ever did any cross dressing or gender bending. I said no as, well, I never did.

I was laying on my bed, he was in a chair. The girl then comes into the bed and snuggles up next to me while I talk some more. I'm alright at this point, physical closeness itself, doesn't always bother me. Eventually we get tired and the lights go out. All three of us are in my bed, and I'm on the far side, with the other girl in the middle. She begins by grabbing my chest, and still a bit buzzed, this is enjoyable even though it isn't what I wanted. They never asked if I was alright with this, or if I wanted this.

Things progress and before I can say anything my pants are off. My first reaction is shame as I didn't shave my legs, (if ever you doubted I didn't plan on this encounter). I panic, knowing all too well the stories of transgirls murdered by the shock of people finding out. I sit up, and quickly say that I was trans. They acknowledge, and he tells the girl in a childlike manner that I was like some other person. I assumed this meant another transgirl they had played around with. Before I can say anything else my panties are down and the girl is performing oral sex.

I laugh, or squirm or something as they ask me what is up and I lie, saying I had to pee. I then ran to the bathroom, and sulked for ..what had to be at least 5 or 10 minutes. I assumed they would continue to have sex, but they must have picked up on something, perhaps the sound of me in the bathroom, I'm not sure. I eventually came out and they were simply laying down, presumably asleep. I crept down next to them and slept.

We talked a bit the next morning, and they eventually left, without saying anything about the previous night. I would see them again at a kink/swinger party a bit later. I attended with their friend that I had met that night, and eventually met his girlfriend who was/is super awesome and still a great friend of mine. I didn't much talk to the couple though, and made a point to avoid them. There is an awkward photo of this gathering laying around somewhere, I untagged myself.

I've had trouble talking about these because I have trouble labeling them assaults or rapes. I have de-legitimized them in my mind because of various things. I enjoyed part of it, or I didn't overtly say no, or I participated back in some way, or because I invited them, or because I voluntarily went into that situation. I feel that it is partially my fault, or not a "real" assault because it wasn't violent, or as terrible as various other things, or because it didn't go that far.

To this day I still have a hard time saying no. It sticks in my throat. My thoughts are to just endure it, stick it out and then leave. I still don't trust people easily, and I still give them the benefit of the doubt.

This notion, or theme, occurred to me recently, as a situation presented itself in which I could easily have been raped by someone I had invited into my apartment. The body language of the person screamed red flag to me, that this person might be a threat, and yet I still simply endured.

I'm not sure what steps to take to make saying no easier, or what it will take for me to act on my instincts.

I do know that people have used some aspect of this benefit of the doubt, to paint me as someone who is afraid of being alone, or rejecting people (and thus being alone). It, infuriates me when people accuse me of this. It is an active trait that I find desirable in people, I think everyone should have the benefit of the doubt. Simple because I don't cut people out of my life when they give off a creepy vibe on first impression, or act in a undesirable manner, it does not mean I'm afraid of being alone, or that I need to rely on other people. I don't make friends easily, and this trait, is a step to remedy that. I abhor people mis-characterizing that as a weakness when it isn't. Excuse me for not being a judgmental jaded fuck.

I moved across the country, to be by myself in an entire new city/state for Christ's sake. The only way that could be MORE independent is if I moved out of the fucking country.

I digress. I guess the point of all of this is to vent it out. To relate, and to seek support from people on it. I don't, dwell on these assaults much, but I did feel it needed to be declared, for my own sake if nothing else.

10.21.2012

The Inherent Gravity

I am very much forcing this entry. I have not been in the mood to write, despite knowing I should. It is hard to pin down where I stand these days. One day, I'm a fucking mess, getting emotionally triggered shakes and enraged beyond belief. So utterly pissed and frustrated that even thinking about my situation tenses my arms and sends me into tears. The next, I'll feel tolerable, confident, awake, and ready to slit the throat of anyone who would dare cross me.

I believe I've come to a point where I know things are gone with my ex. I just have to reiterate to myself why, and how, and the plethora of reasons we aren't together. What we had was an infatuation, I've no other words for it. I understand what triggers those emotions in me, and having been there, I know now what I'm looking for. I won't however, tolerate the rest of everything that happened. I've seen the type of person ze thinks I am, and I know I'm not that person. I'm done trying to convince or alter opinions.

In a sense, this is back to the drawing board. I feel like I'm resetting everything and starting fresh. Which, is nice, but at the same time, it feels exhausting.

I'm complimented, a lot. I get told regularly how attractive I am, I get cat called, and pass with ease. Yet, every time people do compliment me, I can't help but feel I'm queen of the trans girls. As in, "Yes, I'm quite pretty, for a trans girl". Whether or not they mean it, I add it on whenever they leave it off. Yes, I am pretty, but I still feel like I'm winning the special Olympics. This becomes extremely apparent to me around other trans girls who don't pass as well as I do. I notice things, the most minute details that they have forgotten, yet that I've picked up. How to walk, carry one's self, posture, demeanor, not pitch of voice, but tone, intonation, the list is endless. It just, furthers my feelings of isolation, that sense of better than the undesirables, but not good enough to be wanted outright. The first pick for a second choice.

I don't know what the answer is. Let me be clear that I don't feel I am better than anyone else, simply because I pass easier.

I'm, just exhausted from being frustrated and angry, all the time. I'm exhausted of having to presume most people aren't interested in me, even if they are into girls, simply because they won't be into the type of girl I am. You'd think being trans was like being a drug addict or a child molester. And people scoff, question, and deride me for not wanting to tell people I'm trans, when I'm post op. Why the fuck would I? Yes, let me voluntarily make myself more undesirable. I've had enough rejection in my life, thanks.

The anger, the pain, and all that lot aren't gone. I know they are hiding around the corner for me. I've no more reason to continue on than I did last week, but, at least now it's because the so called journey that is life, that so many people seem to just be able to enjoy without effort, is full of shit and pain. Not because it isn't filled with an addictive emotional high triggered by an ignorant girl pulling on strings with no idea of what black holes they were attached to.

10.06.2012

A Moment of Peace


Earlier today, sitting out in the sun with my coffee, and book, I had a small pleasant moment of peace. I felt a bond to my city, my wondrous respite from my relationship wanderlust. It was great to be able to simple exist without thinking about my ex, or my job, or how absolutely miserable and a complete emotional train wreck I was the night before. It was just nice.

That said, I approach a point of losing hope. A conversation with my brother about the possibility of an upcoming marriage/offspring between he and his girlfriend does not encourage me. I was held together with a very thin line of sanity at my mothers wedding, I don't suspect my brother's to be much better for me.

I digress.

I surround myself with people, but feel increasingly more isolated. If I don't continuously distract myself with entertainment, I begin to break and weep uncontrollably after about five minutes. My efforts at venting my anger have helped, but about as much as pissing into a volcano serves to cool the planet. Putting a name on the injustice and wrongs done to me and mine does nothing to right them or make them hurt less.

I find I long to be put in my sub-space again, to have structure and order given to my life via someone I respect enough to let them dictate such things. The problem is finding that person, and then finding a variant of that person who is likewise attracted to me. It would seem, those that would date me, at least, those that inquire, are mutually exclusive, from those I'm attracted to.

Programming a computer to print out the words "good girl" does not, in fact, make me feel better.