The Tingles of Touch

In the process of coming out as Trans one has to accept yourself. You have to come to terms with all the things you decided belong under the rug. I put a lot of me under the rug, my opinions, my desires, my taste, my thoughts, my sexuality and myself.

But let’s talk about that sexuality. I don’t know what’s going to happen when I go onto hrt, I have been told that estrogen has a significant impact on your sexuality but before we get to that, I want to examine now, this instant in time, this reality. As a trans person, you find yourself in this nether world of uncertainty. Inside I am a girl but my body says man. You can’t live in a vacuum, so by influence of society you learn and accept a few of the “being a dude” qualities. You wear pants, you put your emotions in a box and seal it shut, in fact you have this shadow of feminity stalking about in yourself so you err on the side of being über masculine. You work in construction (engineering, the last male stronghold) you pursue typically male hobbies and do your shopping at an outdoor store which results in an undue appreciation of goretex (that’s what the gtx appended to shoe names means, take that as an metric). But there is a more insidious thing hiding in there, it’s your sexuality. The cardinal sin of manliness is being attracted to other men. As a dude, you are required to be slightly repulsed by the male touch, you are required to categorise each context of a touch and if that touch errs toward anything beyond absolutely necessary, it’s to be reviled and to make you cringe. Please God, just not the gay, anything but the gay or in the colloquial “NO! HOMO!”. Like most dudes, you are going to cast your eye toward porn now and then, correction, like all people you will cast your eye toward porn now and then and you will have accepted the “fact” that the men are just necessary evils, dicks to enable your vicarious moments of pleasure. But there is a problem, those dicks and abs and asses and bodies and thrusts and ejaculations look delicious, that is when you can start to admit it. In a dramatic reversal of roles, your mind now screams “I am a DUDE, NO! HOMO!” and your body begs for it.

And that brings me to my ultra sexy work colleagues. Most of whom have a totally normally appreciation for personal space and don’t really feel disgusted by being in very close proximity to another dude (guess who don’t have gender and sexuality issues and guess who does). Two of these guys tend to sit very close when I show them problems on a CAD screen. Deliciously close. A few days ago the one guy I have a solid affection for leaned in close and I felt him against me, my cis-hetero-normative facade kicked in and tried to get some space between us, but before that could happen, Bisexual Kari took over and just appreciated his warmth and closeness as we looked at our problem in the screen. I felt the warmth and friendly affection in his closeness and there was immense comfort and safety in it. I dearly wanted him to put his arm around me, sadly he didn’t but I am starting to appreciate those touches from men and the consequent tingles. The Tingles of touch, how many have I missed out on due to social conditioning to conform to the “NO!HOMO!” narrative.