If that title is not direct, I don't know what is. This is my life, as it goes, day by day, or whatever I feel like.
Why is this guy still texting me? I don't understand, I really don't. I was terribly mean to him when I dumped him months ago, yet he claims to be 'madly in love with me'. Bitch, you can't even grasp that I'm transgender. I explained it to you like, ten times, still it hasn't sunk in. Not the brightest bulb in the tanning bed, now are we?
To make things worse, he's got a girlfriend. I don't know her, I'm sure she's cool girl and would be broken up about finding out her sweetie is getting sweet on a tranny.
'So, how's your girlfriend?' I fired this at him after he told me he wanted to fondle me. Not having it, sir. No I am not. I thought it would be good to remind him where he stood on the relationship front. I'm not a homewrecker, I don't wanna take this girl's man. I'm not attracted to him anymore, despite the fact that I lost my virginity to him.
Confused? Don't be. Even though I'm a guy between the ears, I have all the working parts of a woman - it's a mistake I swear. We had sex twice, you know, normal girlxboy sex. I hated it. All I kept thinking was 'This is it? This is what everyone's so crazy about?' that, and 'This isn't right, this isn't how I'm supposed to do this, this is wrong, wrong, wrong.'
I don't ever want to do that again. Besides, being so sore afterward was really not worth it. And, I don't want kids. Ever. I don't even want to get married. It's not like I just want to fuck every guy under the sun, I don't. I don't like being touched, honestly. it gives me the creeps and I just don't like it.
I want to live alone, somewhere rainy, writing. That's all I want. I don't wanna win the lottery, or marry Britney Spears- jesus take the fucking wheel, no. Doesn't seem like too much to ask. Oh, and there's also the hormone therapy, getting my chesticles cut off, maybe bottom surgery. Yes, I am planning on chaning my body to match my mind and I cannot wait to correct the mistakes.
I dream about having a male body almost every night. The only time I don't dream about that, is when I'm dreaming about fucking a guy. I've known I was gay since I was five, I've known I was a boy since I was four. I'll spare you the gory self-denial details, but for 17 years, I lived as a girl. Same name, just a punk hobo kinda girl.
I can remember having this overwhelming urge to live as a gay man, I wanted that so badly. I knew that was what I really wanted. I could never see myself growing up to be a woman, still can't. I'm just...a boy. Despite what my anatomy says.
Now, when I say I'm gay, I mean Kinsey 6 gay. Complete and full-blown homo. I don't like girls. No, no I don't. I grew up surronded by them, in that world, which really only made them less appealling to me than they already were. When I see pictures of girls in bathing suits, I wrinkle my nose a little. It's nothing personal, ladies. It's just not for me. Never has been.
I've tried kissing a girl before. I figured, why not? Yeah that didn't work. I gaggrd. Honest to god truth. When I think about going down on a girl and-
I am...I don't want to talk about that anymore. Eww.
As far as coming out went, it didn't go well. My parents are homophbic, which is bad enough. But when I told them I was transgender, they cornered me and ripped me to pieces. They still see me as a woman, so having boyfriends isn't an issue - which I can deal with. Most of the time, it isn't that bad. I was always masculine for a chick, so my never wanting to wear dresses, refusing to play Barbies sort of prepared them for the masculine teenager.
But when my mother found out I was binding my chest, she was not pleased. I hurt one of my ribs a while back, and am currently waiting for funds to order a proper undershirt binder. I still keep the ACE bandages though. I don't want to throw them out.
In terms of style, my pants must be skin tight, and my shirts are baggy band tees. Hoodies, nail polish, eyeliner. I colour my hair too, and plan on having a vast number of piercings. And tattoos, if I can sit still long enough.
Oddly, I've become more comfortable since I came out regarding make-up and nail polish. My mother forced me into putting on eyeliner when I was 15, and I always hated getting my nails painted. But now, now that I've come out, I'm okay with it. It's hard to explain, but it doesn't make me feel any less manly. Nor do I feel less manly when I sport my pink flannel.
I define my gender. Not anyone else. Not my anatomy. If I say I'm a boy, I'm a fucking boy. Maybe my parents will accept that some day. Or at least realize that there is nothing they can do to change my mind.
But, for now, I live with my mother. I can't begin to transition until I move out. As much as it pains me, I follow these rules out of respect for her. I love my parents, more than anything about would accept them no matter what. It sucks that they can't do the same for me.
As I write this, I keep re-watching the sex scenes in Brokeback Mountain. Say what you want, but that movie is boss and I love it. Granted I cry likea baby everytime it ends but...
Its hot too. It really is. You know what else is hot? The Dove Keeper. Best gay fanfic I've ever read. It's so much more than a fanfic, it's a novel in itself and for that to come from a fanfic is just amazing. It's so much more than smut, it's a real relationship and it's just...
There are no words for the things it makes me feel. I read it constantly, and I'm saving up for money for a copy of the book. You should read it, it's fucking beautiful. I can't even explain it to you.
Well this has just been a really general begining, and I'll go more into detail of things later, if you want me to talk about something specific, comment or PM me.
Now I have to fucking pee. I'm really good at peeing standing up.
- Jor
