“Friends fall for each other”

“Yeah, at surface level what’s happened between you guys seems weird or even impossible, but if you think of it, it’s actually quite a universal experience: friends fall for each other, because they like each other as persons”. 

Ron’s words yesterday evening brought me some respite, some lightness, almost a sense of things being “smoothed out”. Because they brought a sense of “normalcy” not by discounting but, rather, by actually affirming while also highlighting the universality of the situation that has thrown me & Jack for a loop.

After all, stories like those between Elio & Oliver in “Call me by your name” or Jules & Jim or even Achilles & Patroclus were not “gay romances” but, really, “friends falling for each other” or “friends loving each other” because they liked each other as persons, regardless of sex or gender or sexual orientations. 

In fact, in almost three decades of “beyond-platonic” experiences, it’s happened to me dozens of times. All my deepest relationships that evolved into “more-than-platonic” had started, and for a long time remained, as platonic friendships. And in all cases except two, I never felt sexual/physical attraction for the other party involved but, rather, became positively willing to have sexual/physical intimacy only after the other person(s) had shown their sexual/physical attraction towards me. 

What caught me by surprise this time is that I had supposed that, by surrounding myself with straight guy friends and being myself an aro-ace transman, no sexual/physical attraction could possibly evolve between any of us. 

I guess that shows residues of my own normative thinking… But I believe my buddy Ron is right: deep down, there’s nothing “weird” or “impossible” in what has happened between me & Jack. 

Where Jack & I need to be careful, though, and probably pull back, is in understanding the causes and consequences of our “falling for each other”. First of all, we’re neither of us “falling for” the other in the sense that is usually understood, i.e. of “falling in love”: there’s nothing romantic between us or in our feelings for one another. It’s love, solid, deep, “rational” love between two friends who know each other well and trust each other and are compatible in many practical ways. But, more importantly, we’re also two people whose deep emotional, relational and physical/sexual needs are not getting met. This might lead us to blindly seeking that fulfillment with one another, and that’s where it gets tricky, dangerous. 

That’s what we need to look out for, and the reason I’m deciding to assume that, at least for now, we’re going back to our platonic friendship, while also remembering the universality of this experience: friends fall for each other, because they like each other as persons.

Crossing lines of tenderness

As hard as waiting often is, it also, usually, helps to bring clarity. 

Yesterday was particularly hard for me. Fortunately, though, my buddy Ron was available to talk with me for an hour while I was hiking on one of my favorite trails around sunset. Ron has an almost unrivaled capacity to balance deep emotional understanding with keen rational insights, so yesterday the chat with him, explaining to him the situation with my buddy Jack, answering Ron’s sharp (& judgement-free) questions was really what I needed, both to vent, on the one hand, and to solidify my own decisions, on the other. 

In the past couple days, my own feelings and needs around the situation with my friend Jack have become clearer to me, as if they had come out of a mist or fog. 

First of all, I have understood — or decided — that I’m not waiting. I am not waiting for Jack to resolve those two issues that for me are non-negotiable conditions for anything beyond-platonic with him. I am going to assume that the conversation between me & Jack is behind us, i.e., that we have each explained to the other how we feel and what we’d like but also what the obstacles are. So, since we are good friends and have had a deep, platonic friendship for over three & a half years now, I am simply going to assume that that’s what we’re going to keep having: a close platonic friendship. The only “waiting” I am doing now is holding off from texting him for a little while longer, just to give us both some space from the delicate conversation we had on Friday night, to let things “cool down”, before we resume our platonic friendship. 

The reasons I’m making this decision for myself are twofold. The simpler one is that I don’t want to be involved in those two tricky issues that Jack needs to solve for himself, because it isn’t my place to do so (& it would be very unhealthy for me). The deeper reason is that I have realized, or admitted to myself, how risky this situation could get for me from the emotional viewpoint because of my own unmet relational needs and subsequent vulnerability. 

On an emotional level, and to a certain extent also on a relational level, I am extremely vulnerable. I have an almost desperate need to be loved and held, even physically. The way my heart & body work, as long as my buddy keeps the friendship platonic, I sincerely view it as such and desire nothing more — I don’t know if it’s because I compartmentalize or because I’m aro-ace or recipro-sexual, or a mix of these, but I have no problem holding those clear, platonic boundaries — on the contrary, they feel natural and spontaneous to me. But if he crosses the platonic line, expressing his physical/sexual desire for me, then my own beyond-platonic needs get awakened and instinctively feel like they have a direction. This response of mine is due partly to my being recipro-sexual and partly to my deep need to be held, both physically and emotionally, that has gone unmet for so long and which has been particularly intense in the past few months. 

This deep need to be held both physically and emotionally makes me extremely vulnerable to Jack’s sexual desire of me. Like a superficial hook-up, my libido would take over, initially. But unlike a superficial hook-up, given the long friendship and strong emotional connection between me & Jack, my deeper relational needs would make me seek tenderness from him. Until now, we’ve been able, as buddies or bros, to give each other emotional tenderness within platonic boundaries of close camaraderie. Compartmentalizing in a way that to me felt natural, almost obvious. But if we crossed the line of physical intimacy, I know it would be harder for me to understand where the “line of tenderness” between me & him ends… 

During the past year, I have grown immensely in the area of clarifying my relational needs better and “pruning” my friendships or relationships accordingly. And this tricky situation with my buddy Jack now is, in its delicate complexity, a test: first of all, of my own capacity to admit my feelings and needs to myself; and then, to make those feelings and needs heard to the other person and, if necessary, to hold some steady lines.

The fluidity of sexual orientation

Here we are, two men reclining in each other’s arms on the couch, having a heartfelt, delicate, vulnerable, and very necessary conversation — and using all the willpower we can muster to avoid having sex with each other. 

One would assume it impossible for us to want to have sex with each other: Jack is — or, at least was until a few months ago — straight, and I am aro-ace. His heterosexuality should make him attracted to women, not to another man. And my being on the asexuality spectrum or my being nonbinary-trans should prevent me from wanting to have sex with a cis-het man or, possibly, even with anyone else. And yet, apparently against all logic, all “rules”, here we are, horny as hell, having a conversation about what we’d like to do (both from the emotional and the sexual viewpoints) and what, instead, holds us back. 

The desire is there, fire that can hardly be contained. And yet, it must be contained, at least for now, at least until he’s resolved two issues of his that are non-negotiable conditions for me. Reasonable conditions that he himself sees, agrees with, and has been working on. But he might never be able to fully resolve them. And I can do nothing to help him resolve them, other than continuing to be the close, brotherly friend that I’ve been for the past four years, listening, holding space, giving pointers. And even so, I can do that only if he comes to ask for that support. Otherwise it’s totally up to him, and I have to sit and wait. 

We have both been thrown for a loop by this situation, this change in feelings, almost four years into a “brotherly friendship”. For him, among other things, it has brought up questions around his (hetero)sexuality. For me, it’s brought up things around my gender (the perception thereof by others, by him) as well as around my willingness or readiness for a relationship that is beyond platonic. As to the latter question, I’ve come to the conclusion that I’d be willing to give it a try, upon the condition that he resolve the two non-negotiable issues. I’d be willing to give it a try because I love him deeply and feel deeply loved by him, because I trust us both, and because, despite not feeling attracted to him, I do desire physical connection & sex with him.

The other reason why I’d be willing to give it a try with him is for something he said to me last night, which has to do with the question around my gender (or the perception thereof by him). I told him that the physical & sexual intimacy between us is, or would be, particularly special for me also because he’s one of the few people in my present life who actually have seen me before and after, and throughout, the different steps of my gender journey, both from the viewpoint of the medicalization and the emotional sides. And at this point, he’d be the only person in my life, who’s seen me before and after, with whom I’d be having sexual intimacy. That to me is extremely special. He understood that. And then he said that he was not attracted to me when I still looked feminine but started feeling sexually attracted to me only later, in my more clearly masculine form, despite his being a “straight” man. And when I asked him why, he explained: “Because now, in this evidently masculine form, you are your true self. You weren’t comfortable in your own body before, but now you are, and you’re authentically you. And that’s what I’m attracted to”. 

He’s attracted to me, to me regardless of my gender or sex and regardless of his own sexual orientation. Probably for any human being that is the most lovely thing to hear, that someone is attracted to us because they can see our authentic self, because they can see us comfortable in our own skin regardless of physical details or “rules” around sexual orientation. Yet for a trans person it’s probably even more wonderful to hear such a validation because it’s the most affirming proof of being seen, accepted, loved, and liked as ourselves after journeys that often involve battles and struggles that cis people cannot even imagine. 

This is why I’d like to have sex with him, this is why I’d be willing to try some form of beyond-platonic relationship with him. Because he sees that I have blossomed into my true self and it is precisely that true me that he likes, even though I am a man and he’s a straight guy.

Friday night blues

Here it is, my Friday night blues. The melancholy, sometimes acute sadness, intense loneliness, that has been hitting me, like clockwork, almost every Friday evening for the past two or three months. 

Last weekend it didn’t happen but that was only because I went on a camping & climbing trip with a group of friends, heading out on Friday early afternoon and carpooling with one of them. Spending the whole weekend in the fun, pleasant company of nice people, good friends, and moreover outdoors in nature, spared me from the sadness and loneliness that usually washes over me on Friday evenings, lingering at least through my Saturdays. 

These past two weeks have been particularly good for me. After crashing harder than usual on the Friday of two weeks ago, feeling extremely distressed emotionally, my oldest climbing buddy’s visit on that Sunday, the care & love he showed me in his concern for my radio silence over the weekend, and the open acknowledgement of his physical/sexual attraction towards me, all helped to lift my spirits. Which were then further lifted by two interesting and successful weeks at work, and the climbing/camping trip. 

But almost every Friday evening, as soon as the week’s busyness ends, as soon as I start relaxing and my head is no longer filled with tasks from my “to-do” list, as soon as my nonstop go-go-go mode slows down, I crash emotionally. Loneliness overcomes me, sadness washes over me and sometimes grips me so tight that I can hardly function. On these Friday nights all I want, all I need, is to be held. And ideally, not by just anyone: to be held by my father. The longing is so intense that it’s almost physically painful. And knowing that I cannot be held in that way makes me want to isolate. 

Maybe being held by a close guy friend, a friend with benefits, could help — indeed, on that Sunday nearly two weeks ago my buddy said that we would have held me on the previous Friday night. But would that be enough? And would it be OK? 

The embrace, the comfort, the love I long for from my father is platonic, of course. And it’s unbalanced, or one-way, because it’s the boy, the child in me who craves that hug, that cradling. But that’s not the type of comfort I would get from a guy friend: it would either be not affectionate enough, if it were platonic; or it would slide into sexual, if it were with someone who feels attracted to me, like my buddy who comforted me two weeks ago. So in the former case, I wouldn’t get my real, deep need met; and in the latter, I would be getting a different need met, and maybe in a way that wouldn’t be fair towards the (other) guy involved…

Being desired in my entirety of masculine & feminine

Jack & I met almost four years ago, through a group chat for local climbers. At first, I thought we would never really mesh as climbing partners and it was only thanks to my Italian climbing buddy that I gave the friendship between me & Jack a second chance and it wasn’t until almost a year & a half later, in the autumn of 2023, that we started getting really close. Among other things, that fall I opened up with him about my grief from the recent losses of my father and my European queer ex-lover, and discovered that Jack, too, had lost his father prematurely. Since then, our friendship has been growing steadily and we’ve gotten very close despite some differences. 

On paper, he’s “straight”, he’s one of my cis-het guy friends. But there’s always been something different about him compared to my other cis-het male buddies and something different in the relationship between me & him. He is one of my few cis-het guy friends who’s known me since before starting the medicalization of my gender journey, so when Jack met me, I still looked like an “athletic young woman” (even though I was already using “they” pronouns and he knew I didn’t identify as a woman). Jack, as all my other buddies, has been a wonderful ally in my gender journey and, as with all my other buddies, we have a lot of “male camaraderie”. But in the friendship between me & Jack there’s also always been more tender elements, we’ve both been very vulnerable with each other in ways that are often difficult between men. And Jack is different from my other straight guy friends because he’s a bit of a “hippie” or of a “spiritual guy” and, while not queer himself, he queers the world (e.g. life styles, relationships, etc.), i.e. he’s open and curious and willing to explore. 

This curiosity of his led us to have sex together when he accompanied me to Chicago in November and celebrated my birthday & gender-affirming paperwork with me. 

That was four months ago. It was a lovely experience for both of us at the time, but then we never got a chance — or avoided chances — to talk about it. 

Last week, something very upsetting happened to me, something so upsetting that I haven’t been able to share it with anyone other than my closest non-binary friend in Europe and my gay running buddy here. On Friday night I felt in pieces, with the intensely painful need to be held and the wrenching knowledge that nobody could meet that need for me. Belatedly, I replied to a text from Jack about meeting for chai, telling him how I felt and that I’d just spend the evening by myself because I knew nobody could hold me. Then, I went incommunicado for a day and a half. 

When I turned my phone back on yesterday, I found some messages and missed calls from Jack, worried about me, and then he came over to visit me in the afternoon. I opened up with him and told him what was upsetting me; and finally, I asked him if he could hug me, and I snuggled up to him and let myself be held. 

I thought this would last just a few minutes but then he brought up our shared experience in Chicago and, at last, we started talking about it — not only about that one night & morning of sex we had “far away from home”, but also about how we’d felt since then and how he still feels about it now, about what “feminine vs. masculine sides” he sees in me, about what it means for me to “be desired physically/sexually as a man”, about what things we’d be willing to try/do sexually together or not. And then, jokingly (he’s got a very good sense of humor), he said, “But dude, I’m straight!” So I replied to him, teasing, “No way! You’re at least bi-curious! If you want, I’ll tell you you’re straight but I’m a guy and you’re talking about wanting to have sex with me, so I’ll let you figure that out for yourself. I’m a man with a vagina, but I am a man, and that’s where I draw my line!”

While we were having this conversation, with me cuddled up in his lap, he got aroused (he admitted it himself) and it did flatter me; but the conversation and the feelings went way beyond the physical or sexual aspect. There was a deep sense of love and connection and sharing of vulnerabilities and safety. I know, I can feel, that he sees me, and likes me and loves me, in my entirety. He desires me and wants to have sex with me because I am me, because of the affection and connection and trust that there is specifically between me and him. 

And so would I — want to have sex with him because of the affection and connection and trust that there is specifically between me and him. 

It would not fill that need that I was feeling & mentioning a couple weeks ago about wanting to be desired physically/sexually as a man. That would still remain to be somehow met in some other way, I guess. But it would probably help me fill some even deeper need or “hole in my soul”: that of learning to accept myself, truly and wholly, as a nonbinary transman, with all of the different parts of me that, both physically and mentally/emotionally, are a clear (& to some, like Jack, still visible) mix of feminine and masculine. Admittedly, I haven’t made peace with this, yet, for myself. And maybe, if Jack & I could really be friends with benefits, it might bring me some healing and acceptance towards my own self and those parts of me that will forever be “female”. 

It feels scary. I don’t know if Jack & I are really ready to face a relationship of this kind together, if I’m ready to explore everything that it could open up for me. But I know it has a huge healing potential (for both of us), as it could help me to see my being a transman as a feature, not a bug…

A little lightness in this heavy darkness

As I sit at a little table in a corner of the bookstore-cafe patio listening to the sounds of this local band — rock with a hint of punk — I can finally feel something within me soften, relax. The notes hit exactly that spot, that frequency of my own emotions right now: an intense painful mix of hurt and anger. For which punky rock music sounds just perfect. I can feel the knot inside me first resonate with the pain and anger in the songs, and then melt. As I mark the rhythm of the music, of the drums, with my hands, my eyes close, and I can feel my lips twist into a smile as my whole body relaxes. 

Then, after a short break at the end of this local band’s set, the main artist for the night starts his act. And I crack up. He seems to be taking himself so seriously but to me he looks like a parodic version of Bob Dylan in his “black-suit-black-sunglasses” phase and I just cannot take him seriously. And for the first time in gods only know how long, I’m laughing — not out loud to his face, but with a relieved lightness inside me. I exchange glances with the gay runner friend who’s with me at the show: we’re both ready to go for dinner. Outside the bookstore-cafe-music venue, out in the fresh evening air in the street, as we walk automatically in one direction and then realize that food is the opposite way, I can feel the lightheartedness take hold of me more wholly. I laugh. And finally I feel the heaviness and darkness of the past week, of the past five or six weeks, drop away. 

I knew I had been holding a lot in the past weeks. I have been feeling a terribly heavy and dark load on my shoulders, in my heart recently. For weeks, life has felt like a never-ending string of duties, chores, homework. Lots of them chosen by myself, lots of them part of my own value system and of my life choices, like supporting my friends in need, getting more concretely involved in activism, focusing on doing a good job at work, and starting therapy again to solve some old issues that I can no longer avoid. Part of this hyperactivity of mine in “things that need to be done now” has been the natural consequence of my own values and life choices (which I don’t regret); part of it has been a reaction and a taking ownership of “my own shit” after the difficult emotions triggered by the rejection I got from the gay climber a few weeks ago. But despite being actions or reactions aligned with my own values, steps that I am consciously and willingly choosing to take, they are nonetheless heavy, painful, even overwhelming sometimes. Life has been feeling terribly heavy, dark, and joyless lately. 

So the lightness at the music show, the reprieve I got this weekend was an unexpected, and very much needed, change of pace. A sliver of light in the dark, some lightness in the heaviness. 

The other thing that helped bring some sense of lightheartedness and play, and even ego-boost, this weekend was the sexting with a bisexual cis-guy on Tinder. Ten days ago, I found myself thinking for the first time ever that maybe I should seek the services of a sex-worker*. It wasn’t just the intense sex drive (which admittedly cannot always be satisfied by myself alone). It was also, and especially, two other cravings that have gotten really unbearable at times. On the one hand, the desperate need to be touched by someone else, to be touched by someone who isn’t only, always just myself. On the other, the need or desire to explore, to explore myself in other ways, because that’s what sex is to me most of the time: a way for me to explore myself, my body, my gender in ways that are lighter, more lighthearted, more playful than what I usually do. 

There it was again, as sharp as ever, my need for playfulness, for some lightness in my life. A need that has been going unsatisfied for me for years at this point. And then a week later, this past weekend, the unexpected connection on Tinder. It was a surprise, partly because I had given up the idea of anyone ever liking me physically/sexually again, and partly because I’ve never really done any sexting. And at first it felt weird, I could feel all the old “prudishness” coming up for me, deep conditioning that made me feel awkward, almost ashamed. There is was, my “over-disciplined brain” telling me yesterday that I shouldn’t be wasting my time this way, that “I should be getting ‘something useful done’ this afternoon”. But then I finally let go. I finally allowed myself to just enjoy. I felt my mind let go of the grip, I felt my body relax and enjoy. I felt some of those physical cravings finally getting some long-needed and long-awaited satisfaction at last. 

Rationally, I knew how much I needed this. But I didn’t really know until I got some of those cravings actually satisfied yesterday. I had forgotten the glow, the lightness I feel inside of me when these physical needs of mine get met. But also psychological and emotional needs because, at the end of the day, this guy is appreciating me physically & sexually as a man, providing that ego-boost that lately I had been needing so badly. I know this won’t last both because it’s nothing “serious” with this particular guy and partly because it’s yet another of my “escapes”, giving myself a break from reality before I have to go back to it and face the heavy, dark facts. But I got a break this weekend, I got some lightness, some shared pleasure, a little reprieve from the recent hardships, and that has been helpful even in its inherently temporary nature.  

*{NOTE: I think there is nothing wrong with sex-work as long as it is performed by free, willing, consensual adults in ways that ensure the safety and good health of the parties involved.}

In between genders

A few months ago, in October 2025, I joined an adult recreational team at my climbing gym. At the time, apart from me, there were five women and six men on the team, all cis. Three of the women on the team are in romantic/sexual/nesting relationships with three of the men; however, two of those romantic couple split to climb, so the girls climb together and the boys climb with each other. With my being new and there often being an odd number of climbers at our training sessions, I have climbed randomly with a couple of the men and two of the women on the team. 

When I joined, I was automatically put in the “boys bucket”. The certainty, almost blindness, with which I was put into the male category was affirming but also somewhat disappointing and scary: on the one hand, it proved to me that the external world, at least at a superficial glance, takes me for a man with no doubt, which tends to be validating; on the other, though, it also proved that people have no other categories than “man” & “woman”, which is disappointing; moreover, it also left me with the fear, so common to me since the medicalization of my gender journey, of what would happen when the other guys eventually found out that I’m queer, both in the sense of my being “mostly gay” (fear of homophobia) and in the sense of my not having a penis (fear of transphobia).

In November, our gym organized a recreational climbing competition in which we participated as a team. I partnered with one of the guys closer to my own age with whom I already had some camaraderie or budding friendship from carpooling and an outdoor climbing session together. I competed in the non-binary category and won. So I decided that would be a great opportunity for me to come out to my teammates by going up on the podium for my prize wearing my tank-top with the writing “This is what trans looks like”. 

At that point, they finally realized. But nothing changed. Fortunately. They just kept using “he” pronouns for me as everyone had up until then and treating me as one of the guys. It felt good. It felt wonderful, really. In fact, most of my teammates came to my “double anniversary” party several weeks ago and it felt lovely. 

Within the team, I have bonded mostly with two of the men who are closer to me in age and one of the women who is single. There’s another younger woman, though, who seems to feel a bit more of a (platonic) connection with me than with most of the other guys on the team. Given that I’ve been in this group of people for only a short period of time, I’m not sure of this — it may be that she’s just very extroverted, I don’t know. She & I have a lot in common, both of us being vegan and former competitive swimmers and now working in education, so it might simply be that it’s easier for us to relate to each other and/or find topics for small talk. 

Last night, the ex-swimmer & I partnered to climb together since we’re both recovering from injuries. Later, the woman climber who’s single joined us to climb in a group of three since she’s still recovering from a recent flu. I was still feeling really low, the sadness from the emotional wall that I hit on Saturday still weighing on me last night. The two women climbers caught me up on some recent happenings within the team, including the fact that one of the other women had just split with her boyfriend (not a climber) and is distraught so they’re organizing an evening together (among the women on the team) to cheer her up. Without going into detail, I shared that I’m also going through an emotionally rough spot. After a while, as small talk, I asked, “So, you’re doing a girls’ night on Friday?” and the ex-swimmer replied, “Yes, do you want to join us?” 

“To a girls’ night?!?” I half asked, half exclaimed in a tone that must have been a mix of surprise, sarcasm, and hurt. 

“Jim is also organizing a Sushi night with the guys, he’s going to text you about it later, in case you want to join them on Friday”, she replied hastily (Jim is her boyfriend). 

Our session continued undisturbed and pleasant, but something within me was mulling, upsetting me somewhat, and part of me felt I would need to address that comment with her at some point later on. To my great relief, though, she texted me as soon as she got home yesterday evening: “Thanks for being my recovery buddy tonight! Also, I realize I inadvertently invited you to hang with us on Friday night. It came from a place of inclusion because you had shared that you were going through a rough spot that sounded similar to what Jane is going through… I hope it was OK. Jim will text you soon about the guys’ Sushi night for Friday!” 

I was relieved and touched by her text. And, indeed, Jim texted me about the guys’ Sushi night only a couple minutes later. Her invitation also gave me food for thought, though. This team, the whole team, men and women on it, is truly a group of friends who’ve got each other’s back: the girls’ night they’re organizing for Jane; the way the two older guys went out with me for beers to support me shortly after the rejection I received from the gay climber — they’re here for one another, and they’re here for me, too. As in most groups of straight people of mixed sexes, the dynamics tend to be gendered, the men grouping up and the women bonding among each other. And I’ve been put mostly in the “men’s bucket”, I tend to both instinctively (because of my own ease/habits) and socially (because of my looks) gravitate to the men’s group. But, as sweet and sensitive as most of the men on this team are, it seems that at least some of the women feel closer to, or more spontaneously at ease with, me than to/with the other guys. It might be just my impression but there may also be an underlying truth to in because I do, in fact, share more with these women (& with cis-women in general) than any of the guys on the team (& any cis-men in general), because of being AFAB myself, because of having been socialized as a woman/female, because of having lived in the world perceived as a girl for so long. 

In many ways, I guess, I’m still in between genders… and I’m not sure how I feel about that…

The lack of appreciation for my masculinity

I’m out for dinner with a new friend. We met at the queer running group a couple weeks ago: he’s a cis gay man, partnered, new in town, roughly my own age. And despite having hung out together only a couple times, our conversations have had both breadth and depth, so there seems to be potential for a close platonic friendship and I have already shared with him some of my difficulties or impostor syndrome around my gender as it is perceived in the world. 

“Since the medical steps of your gender journey, have you had anyone appreciate your masculinity?” 

His question is sympathetic, considerate, within context; the choice of words (e.g. “your masculinity”) appropriate and validating. For me, though, there’s also something extremely piercing in his question. It’s a simple, direct question, clear in its meaning of “appreciation” as within sexual/romantic relationships. Yet the answer that comes out of me is long-winded. Probably because I had never really been asked such a question so simply and directly, and because that’s actually the question that has been nagging at me for at least the past month & a half. 

Now, a couple of days after his simple question and my long-winded answer to him, I can actually reply very simply to myself: “No, not enough”.

Over the past four years, since my gender journey became a prevalent and explicit (even medically & visually/physically) part of my life, I have had some people openly, explicitly, clearly appreciate my masculinity in physical/sexual/romantic relationships, yes. But it’s been too few & too sparse, only a handful of persons over the course of 3-4 years compared to dozens of people who for decades showed (physical/sexual/romantic) appreciation for my femininity. And now it’s been over a year since anyone showed any physical/sexual appreciation for my masculinity, so even those few experiences I did have have dwindled and been lost from my memory. 

I can still remember that I felt wonderfully happy and validated in deep, exhilarating ways both times that cis gay men showed physical appreciation and/or sexual attraction towards me. I can remember that I felt like I was on cloud #9 for days after hooking up with the cis gay guy from the chorus who said I was a “hot guy”. But those memories are far away in time, from over a year ago, and I haven’t had any other experiences like that since then, so I cannot recall those happy feelings of validation anymore, I can only remember at a rational/logical level that I had them (& that they’re gone now). And my more recent experiences have actually been of the opposite type, feeling like rejection or discounting of my masculinity.

So no, I have not had enough appreciation of my masculinity. And this is certainly part of the reason for the painful impostor syndrome I’m feeling around my masculinity. 

I have had and still have wonderful, caring support and acceptance from my platonic friends who love me and accept me just as I am and make that clear to me. This has been an incredible source of strength and comfort in all my endeavors and difficulties. But it’s different from “appreciating (physically/sexually) my masculinity”. My friends accept and love me just as I am, regardless of my gender or looks or body parts. That is wonderful and extremely important, something that I lacked when I was younger and that I’m extremely grateful for now and wouldn’t trade in for anything in the world. But it’s not the same, it doesn’t provide the same type of validation as being appreciated physically/sexually as a man. And I need both types of validation or appreciation. But I’m not getting both types of appreciation so there’s a big part of me that still feels extremely insecure and hurt.

{NOTE: the validations I might get from strangers or the external world addressing me as “sir” or “man” really do very little, hardly anything, in the way of affirming my gender, at this point. While being misgendered is still terribly traumatic and painful for me, being addressed as “sir” or “man” washes off of me because rationally my mind realizes that people really are extremely superficial in their assessment of gender, they only have two boxes and they use very superficial, general indicators to choose one of the two “assigned boxes” on the fly, which most of the time doesn’t feel validating at all.} 

Double impossibility

I just got home from my run — a good, satisfying workout, and yet what I feel is that I want to cry. I feel a deep, intense sadness. 

I feel sad.

I’ve been ruminating for days, maybe weeks, on & off, trying to figure out the causes for why people don’t like me physically/sexually anymore — is it my transness? My being a queer man? My lack of “proper” facial hair? My being on the aro-ace spectra? A difference in aesthetics & sense of human beauty between European and north American cultures? 

But today, all that rumination that had been almost at a philosophical level, more rational than fully emotional, has precipitated into sheer sadness. Why? 

Is it because of unexpectedly running into the gay climber at a political event last night? Is it because of the ease with which the cis-woman climber friend who was with me last night got another guy’s number, succeeding in her flirtations? 

Probably, I should have expected running into the gay climber last night since the event was organized by our common friend (& his housemate) M. I just figured he’d be too busy with school and/or uninterested in political matters. But last night it was evident that our common friend had brought the gay climber upstairs where I had been sitting on purpose for us to connect, not knowing about our complicated situation. Fortunately my cis-woman climber friend & I were engaged in deep conversation with other people so I was able to avoid interacting directly with the gay climber — which is something he & I will be figuring out, one on one, but that I’m not ready to do, yet. That brief situation last night made me feel terribly uncomfortable, but it was also painful because it was a reminder, weeks later, of the recent rejection from him and of how impossible it seems to have become for me to meet people who like me physically/sexually. 

This pain was later compounded by the ease with which my cis-woman climber friend (who’s also single) got another guy’s number. And I realize the pain here is twofold. On the one hand, there’s the more superficial aspect of the comparison that I cannot avoid making, i.e. that while she & I are both single, for her it’s much easier to connect with people who might be sexual/romantic partners than it is for me, simply because she’s a straight woman (& smart and nice and fun and interesting and physically pleasing). On the other hand, at a deeper level, while I do hope she finds a romantic/sexual partner because I care about her and I know she really wants a partner and I’d like her to be happy, it’s also painful and sad for me to have to realize or admit that she & I cannot be romantic/sexual partners. This feels sad to me because we get along so well, in most ways we’re such a “good match”. A voice inside me tells me that she could never feel attracted to me because I’m a transman, i.e. “not man enough”. Whereas, I know that I could end up liking her “more than platonically”, in some demisexual way. Indeed, although I tend to be gay, i.e. physically/sexually attracted to masculinity, and often identify myself as a “gay man”, I know from experience that my asexual orientation, in my being demisexual or reciprosexual or sex-positive gray-A, can actually lead me to desire a more-than-platonic connection with some persons regardless of their gender and regardless of their body/genitals/physical appearance, not because of sexual/physical attraction on my part but rather based on the intellectual and/or emotional connection that develops between us. So I know from experience that, given the right (or wrong!?) circumstances, this could happen to me even with respect to my cis-woman climber friend — but I’m sure she wouldn’t reciprocate because I’m trans… 

So maybe today I’m feeling so sad because last night I got reminded, albeit indirectly, of a double rejection or double impossibility: the one with the gay climber guy, on the one hand, and the one with my cis-woman climber friend, on the other?

Boiled peanuts

[Trigger warnings: death; grief]

“Is there anything you’d like to say?”, Maya, Ron’s fiancé, asks him, as the five of us are sitting around the tiny dinner table, ready to tuck into the food. 

Ron’s eyes get watery, for a moment he seems at a loss for words. “Andrew used to like to have people over to eat, all together… that’s all… so thank you all for being here tonight”, he manages to say.  

For us, it’s an honor, albeit a sad one, to be here.

Every week, I try and have at least one full day completely to myself, off my phone, not driving anywhere. This week, it was supposed to be today. But given the circumstances, this afternoon I checked my phone just to see if Ron has tried to get in touch. And sure enough, there it was: a missed call from him from a couple hours earlier. I dial his number immediately but it goes to voicemail — he’s probably in class. So I leave him a message: “I’m busy until 5:30 this evening, then completely free after that time. Call or text me for anything.” 

As soon as I’m done with my work day, at 5:30pm I check for messages from Ron: “We’re having veggies and meat. Is veggie burger OK for you instead of the meat? Two other people are coming, Laura and another climbing buddy. You can come over any time after 6:30.” 

So there goes my “no-driving day”! But I had been expecting it today, preparing for this all day. So I reply to Ron that I’ll bring dessert, as usual, and I get myself ready to go and give him support — in whatever form he may need it. 

When I get there, Maya is cooking so I offer to help her, as usual. This evening, though, she declines, so I join Ron and his other climbing buddy (whom I didn’t know before) and his friend Laura from skiing. Laura is her usual loud, bubbly self, and jokes with me about not having brought her two huge golden retrievers who, last time, were all over me. Brad & I exchange a few comments about climbing, of course. Finally, Ron is done with a huge pot of something brewing in the kitchen and brings out a bowl full of dark brown, soggy-looking peanuts in their shells floating in brownish liquid. It doesn’t look appealing in the least but he’s our friend, we trust him, he wouldn’t poison us, would he? And anyway, tonight we’re all here for him, to support him in this difficult moment. 

“Boiled peanuts!” Ron exclaims and then starts explaining to us the best techniques to eat them, the technique Andrew used to employ, the one Ron prefers. Neither seems to work great, really, but the boiled peanuts turn out to be very tasty, if somewhat messy to eat. 

“Andrew used to say that each peanut would help diffuse the hangover for a few minutes and you’d think you were fine, until then you felt hung over all over again and needed another peanut”. 

“So how many peanuts do you need to eat to get wholly over your hang over?” I ask Ron. “Oh, all you can do really is sleep it off!”, he replies and we finish off this uncommon, but surprisingly yummy, appetizer. 

The evening rolls on, through dinner and a board game where we all get frustrated in hilarious ways, a riot, cursing and laughing our heads off. Living. 

Life as usual. 

Commemorating the dead by celebrating life.