Saving myself for no one

The concept of sexual intimacy is not lost on you or me. However, somewhere along the line – growing up in a Christian household, trying to be a good, heterosexual boyfriend to the few girls who gave me a chance, my admittance of being of an agnostic, free-thinking perspective, and embracing my identity as a pansexual transwoman – I lost sight of what I should and should not deserve. Rather, I never had much of a chance to really explore the idea of engaging in sexual intimacy. For specific reasons, I just accepted that my time had not come.

My long-standing belief has been that one should reserve sexual intimacy for the person they have committed themselves to in a monogamous, romantic relationship. I have since realized that this line of thinking has been the last bastion of traditional, Christian-centric thought that had somehow survived through everything that had drastically shifted in my lifestyle. The idea had been deeply engrained into me, despite being “born male”, and the shame of contradicting this thinking loomed near whenever temptation arose. My parents being religious & fairly traditional led me to put my own romanticized take on it, believing that if I remained patient & virtuous, one day I would be able to entrust my body to the person I believed was “the one.”

I recently read a novel that turned me on (pun intended) to the very common practice of two characters meeting one another. After their initial meeting, both of them recognized their instinctual attraction to one another over time with each chance interaction feeding the heat between them. Eventually, one makes a move and the other is equally overcome with ferocious passion. For some reason, the timing in which I was exposed to that story – right around when I turned thirty – caused me to have an alternative perspective. Prior to turning thirty, I would have asked “who could possibly jump into bed with someone who clearly had no romantic intentions to remain faithful to them”? However, in the face of physical aging, sparse intimacy over my lifetime, and the high level of self-love I had cultivated as the woman I was born to be, what I read now appeared almost natural and sensible as my former mindset seemed almost something an insane, brainwashed prude would do.

#1: I can be shallow as fuck about looks.

#2: I am light-years from being a “prude”.

“Turning 30” has been a recurring theme in this blog as of late and sexual expression is not excluded from it. As I often do, I wondered why only I had to be the one sexually frustrated, swearing off intimacy just because “the one” hadn’t come along. I could count on one hand how many times I had believed I would marry someone. This romanticized notion of keeping myself “pure” for “my first time” when I was already perverted, unabashedly playful in my sexuality, and near legitimately considered a succubus among my close friends rapidly became outdated through rigorous self-assessment.

Being met with my cold logic quickly turned to frustration. I was three weeks into being 30 and had yet to experience unrestrained intimacy followed by sharing a bed with my partner. Like an ignorant, virgin teenager, I was still wondering how people [read: my friends] have sex and if there were any steps to follow for a successful romp. And then I was smacked in the face with the truth: This was all my own doing. I repeatedly declined the idea simply because no romantic commitment would follow when there were multiple instances where sex likely would have been welcomed.

Another hard truth washed over me: The combination of my past upbringing and now my present life as a transwoman had somehow made me believe by default I should never feel safe experiencing sexual intimacy other than with someone who had confessed their love for me. An amalgamation of anger and sadness careened through my body. There had to be a way to rewrite this automated preset equation that I had left unchecked in the midst of my gender transition.

I want to be a good woman.

Only sluts sleep around.

How do you take love out of sex? I’m so clingy. I’d fall in love with them and get hurt.

Will I ever be loved?


…why I should starve myself.

I’m desirable. Beautiful. Lovable.

If sex with someone I trust could make sense…

Experiencing intimacy with someone I feel comfortable with isn’t shameful.

Yes, I want to be loved. Sex doesn’t equal love. It never has.

I won’t be young forever. Live your life. 

Fuck who you want.

So I did.


Five Tips To Becoming A More Confident Transgender Female

Umi Sonoda (Love Live) by takuma0

Many transgender females often struggle with the massive adjustment in how to integrate themselves in society. I was one of them, of course. Though after being able to bravely face friends and family, the issue of how to handle attraction and romance gradually crept into my consciousness. The concept wasn’t new, obviously, but in the context of my femininity, self-respect and protecting myself from potential “chasers”, everything about this was all new to me. Awareness of these matters could be taught but it was only through experiencing being approached in the moment that we could learn to adapt. For some, this could be most terrifying, but not impossible to get used to.

In lieu of that fear, I’m offering up five ways transgender females (and pretty much anyone uncomfortable in their skin) can gradually increase their confidence and self-assuredness to better navigate being approached by a cis male or anyone who may show attraction to you. Most people typically fear because they are not fully prepared or they lack the confidence necessary to stand on their own. Fact is, everyone is drawn to confident people, whether romantically-charged or not. As someone who has been out as a transgender female for just about three years, these points have helped me build a strong foundation to handle almost any social interaction. Continue reading “Five Tips To Becoming A More Confident Transgender Female”

Tale of the Transwoman and the Sample Girl

Mumei & Ayame Yomogawa by rera

Recently, I encountered a pretty female offering samples from a local yogurt shop she worked for. I was having an incredibly shitty day in the field – my attitude had crumbled under the pressure of producing the results I knew I was capable of. As the girl wandered up to me and I took another sample, I put on a smile while fighting with the more carefree side of my personality that felt the day was already unsalvageable. As she began walking away, my bolder side won and I did something completely uncharacteristic.

“Hey, sample girl!”

The short girl with long, dark black hair stopped and turn to me. The expression on her face was friendly, but hardly without a hint of apprehension.

“Yes?” she replied in a calm tone. She really did seem like a sweet, attractive female with enough social skills to be out on this crowded street making a moderate living.

Now was not the time for thinking, however. I turned on the confidence and didn’t bother putting up the usual emotional shield. The day was already shit and I had nothing more to lose by asking.

“I have a question for you,” I said slowly, making direct eye contact as I approached slowly. I’m almost certain a coy smirk ran across my lips in lieu of my bolder, carefree side handling this conversation.

“Hm?” Her face was quite nonplussed by now, but clearly she was well trained in interacting with others as I had been. She didn’t back away. Likely because I was also just another woman in sales as she was.  Perhaps she too was curious as to what I had to say next. So I wasted no time getting to the point.

“Do you like girls?”

Pure indifference rolled through me as the words jumped off my tongue and into the air. I really didn’t care what happened next. The worst that could happen would be receiving a confused “no” and declaration of heterosexual preference. I wasn’t going to make a dime today, so why not accept the hinted possibility based on seconds of interacting with her that just maybe she could be a single lesbian.

Upon processing my question, she closed the gap between us, signaling she preferred a more personal exchange from here on out. “Umm, you mean like…dating girls?”


“Oh, okay. Well I’m bi actually.” I could see a hint of uncertainty on her face, but she wasn’t ashamed at all of her preferences.

“Could I..maybe take you out on a date some time?”

“Unfortunately..I’ve got a boyfriend right now,” she said cooly.

“Ohhh! Nice. That’s cool.” I said with a chuckle, attempting to play off the swirling feelings of ‘HOLY SHIT I WAS ACTUALLY RIGHT’ and ‘WELP THAT FIGURES’ careening through me. As is in line with my truer nature, I backpedaled. “I mean, I’m not looking to bother you if you’re already involved.”  I was already dejected from the day, so under such negative circumstances, a relaxed countenance managed to win out.

“I don’t mind being social with other people,” she said with a smile. She shifted her weight to the hand holding her sample tray and pulled out her smartphone. “We can exchange numbers~.”

“Oh! S-Sure! My name is Nina. What’s your name?”

“My name is…”

I shared this in a narrative format because I felt there aren’t many tales of how transgender people handle approaching someone of the same gender identity. As this is the first time I’ve ever approached a perfect stranger like this, I wanted to paint a proper picture of how everything unfolded and what was going through my mind at the time. As a transwoman, having romantic interests is extremely tricky, let alone discerning the sexual preferences of females.

Female to female, it seems the best way to approach is to 1) Have a initial shared interest/interaction, 2) be confident, 3) show respect, and 4) don’t be pushy.

Funny how in my interactions with men, the majority always seem to skip #1, focus purely on #2 and forget #4. I may get into that in another post.