This is a bit of a follow up to my Cuddling as a Woman post. As the days continue to go by and the cuddling with this person continues and evolves (because yes, it did happen again), I’m starting to really notice and realize that I have a very different perception of some things that I thought I had a clear opinion on. I really don’t want to get into too many of the juicy details here, because after all there is a certain decorum to be maintained in a public blog and this isn’t 50 Shades of Grey.
The main detail that I left out in the last post was the fact that this woman I cuddled with, is actually a pre-op MfT transsexual, like me. Mind you, she sounds, and mostly looks, like she’s a genetic born woman so I don’t see her as a trans – I see her as a woman, period. But of course, both of us being pre-op means there are certain, err, mechanical details that makes this a non-standard, more delicate relationship.
Why am I saying this? Because when I started my transition and thought about the fact that I would most likely hang around with a good number of other trans girls, I asked myself, “Could I ever maintain a relationship with one, could I ever sleep with one?” and the answer was actually strongly negative. In my mind, I simply couldn’t fathom being in bed with another person, trans or not, that had a penis just like me.
My perspective on this has changed, because my perception of this woman is so strongly feminine that my brain refuses to acknowledge the fact that she has the wrong equipment. My hands have found their way on top of her panties, our hips have met in different ways, and I can clearly feel, as she can, that there is something there that’s extraneous. But I don’t give a fuck.
The perception change is in my view of gender and sexuality. What I saw was a clear binary – either you had a penis and I wanted nothing to do with that area, or you had a vagina and then it was alright. But now, after what I’ve lived… it seems to me like the physical aspect of it has a lot less importance than the perception of the other person’s gender. As I was touching something that I’ve never wanted to think about, I wasn’t weirded out, it wasn’t awkward or disgusting. It was just… ok.
For a split second, now and then, something told me, “this is soooo gay”, but that voice was quickly silenced by the incongruity of what I was plainly seeing in us, two lesbians.
Now, if this is starting to sound like much more than cuddling, you’re perfectly right. It did evolve quickly into much more than that, and it continues to do so every time we meet. Time will tell what, precisely, this is going to become. In the meantime, if you see me with a grin on my face, you know it’s because I’m as happy as I could possibly be at this point in my transition.