Meeting a mysterious woman, loving female friendships, but oh, so wanting this to be more

As a man, if I had the hots for a woman and it didn’t work out romantically, that usually meant friendship was impossible.  Not because there was any active desire for this on the part of either one of us, but more so because things just got complicated.

I don’t fully understand it, but I think that it has to do with male insistence.  That men have a tendence to keep pushing, or to not stop wanting what they want, just because someone tells them not to.

As a trans woman this is something which is perplexing.  On the one hand, female friendships are becoming the greatest prize of transition.  On another I am still attracted to women.  This means I wonder if things will get complicated.  I also wonder about the nasty narrative going around in political circles that is the core of the TERF case against trans women—that we are just sexual predators like all men, and that we are using female spaces as a way to have access to women so that we might terrorize them,  

But something strange is happening.  First, women are flirting right back, even with their husbands or boyfriends standing right next to them.  This is fun and delicious.  They do this because I am no longer a threat.  But with the single ones, or with women I haven’t met before, I don’t know if they are gay, straight or willing to take a walk on the wild side.

Flirting is fun, but I also do it to signal that I have the hots for them.  I am hoping that it is mutual, and the flirtation coming back is confusing, as it is much deeper now than when I was a boy.  I am discovering that I have nothing to lose.  If a woman is hanging with me, I assume that she is doing so because she might be interested.  If it turns out she was just playing and not interested, or that she changes her mind, we just shift into friend mode, and that works really well.

In other words, I don’t seem to be losing them as possible friends.  Instead, I am saddened by what my rational self tells me is that she was interested, but by the time we were to kiss, it was too late.  The good news is that they seem to be staying friends, and anyway, I’d never kiss her if I didn’t want to be her friend.

One woman said to me she was ‘not afraid to walk on the wild side’.  And she told me that even if I am not the pouncing type, that I should give it a try.  I did, and in a very symbolic gesture, she crossed her legs and looked at me.  I can’t remember the context, but I later said to her that she had nothing to fear from me, that I am not a predator.  She said she knew.  We are becoming very good friends…but I am still not sure where we are.  

She was down recently, emotionally down, and I could feel that she was having boy trouble.  She had previously said she was poly-amorous, and anyway, I am not going to fit the boy slot for anyone.  I can respect that she might want a man, to even have kids.  She related an aspect of her life story which was really pretty dramatic and gave her the feeling that she had no safety net.  I had recently offered that she move into my house if she needed support.  She likes my children.  They like her.  She politely declined the offer, but was grateful for it.  When I said to her that I would be there for her if she felt she was slipping through, she looked at me and said “I know you are there.”

Can friends be lovers?  Can lovers be friends.  I do love her in a way and hope to feel this grow.  But I also know that I cannot wait and should not wait.  Things will flow as they need.

She never takes advantage, and that is really refreshing for me, since so many of the people in my life seek to take advantage of me.  I would much rather be a magic carpet than a doormat.  But as I contemplate my own lesbianism, if I have to put myself into a box it is one of loving women, I realise that the box is very small.  Already, there are far fewer straight women than lesbians.  And I suspect that the subset of lesbians who like trans women is smaller still…and anyway, I don’t want to be the butch one, but nor do I wish to compete over femininity.

I was out and about looking at art with some friends—this is a favourite pastime of mine.  And there was a lesbian couple there.  Bikers.  They were both so, so gorgeous.  But there were also clear roles.  The “top” I call her for lack of better words, had a really cute, boyish haircut.  She wore black biker leathers and just was really gorgeous.  She was full of mischief and fun, they both were in their playful interactions.  They kept taking me in.  The “bottom” of the two was more overtly feminine, and her biker outfit had a few nods to colour.  The top was actively protective and caring for the bottom, it was cute.  She fussed over her.  I could easily imagine being their unicorn.  Could such a beautiful thing happen to me?  

All of these musings are very real to me.  I love, want companionship.  This is something which was not nearly as strong in my male-hormone-filled body—though my levels were at minimum to be a “man” before I started this.  And I am meeting people like crazy.  I am not sure that I even need a dating app, and I surely don’t need to meet people who are weirdo’s, fetishists.  I used to never go out to things on my own.  But now I do.  I want to live.  And I’m not waiting for someone to come with me to enjoy myself.

Plus, I like being adopted by random strangers.  I was talking to a woman recently who had gone to something on her own and had latched onto me and she was saying how she didn’t like that people tried to adopt her.  It was as if to say that they felt sorry for her.  I don’t care how they feel, so far, I have met some pretty fun people in this way.

Well, all of the above was rattling through my head when the most gorgeous woman in the room walked up to me.  And although boy me might have gotten her number and moved on, she was it.  And I made sure to signal that, by not looking around, by paying attention to her, to listening to her and being present with her all night long.  And my reward was that she stayed with me too, focussed on me, and had dinner with me, and touched me and caressed me with her arms.  Then she asked for my number and gave me an idea for a date.  I’d love to see her again.  I also really want to kiss her…but I liked her so much, and we had so much in common, that I would be delighted for a friendship to blossom.

I sensed that she is a Sex Worker.  I felt that she was dropping hints through the evening, not for me to become a client, but for her to be able to have a normal and warm relationship with someone who won’t judge her for what she does for a living.  I read recently of the loneliness that many Sex Workers feel, and it stirred in me all kinds of mothering emotions.  And this is a feeling that I get more and more of.

I have a chemical joy in my body that is euphoric, yes, it is the correct word.  Trans people often experience this on female hormones.  I hope it never stops.  It is also true that I have an exuberance right now that feels quite like what being a teenager feels like.  I am also really horny, but in such a different way.

In the four ages of womanhood—child, sexual awakening, mother, crone, I feel I am in the mother phase…a reflection of my life experience.  Nurture and care is one of my ‘kinks’.  And it just fits right now.

How does one be a baby and a mother at the same time?  Can a person who feels the innocent love of a child and is actively working towards stripping away any feelings and behaviours which interfere with that, also focus on nurturing?

Of an adult, we say, ‘baby’ as a term of endearment, though don’t quite mean it like I do.  Women refer to many men as ‘babies’ in a not-so-charitable way, and it is true, because they are emotionally stunted and unable to participate at the level she deserves.  Avoiding the trap of dysfunction of any kind, of not actively working on the aspects of ourselves which we know may lead to behaviour patterns that should be unwelcome in adult life, and most definitely in a relationship, is not so easy, but is the price of true adulthood.  So, although I am a baby, and I most definitely want to be a baby, and want to cuddle like a baby, I also want to be a masterful adult and to show my lover, my friends, my family just what I can do.

What does this all mean?  I will continue to throw myself into life, love.  I will continue to work on me to not get in my own way, to continue to strive to bring my best self to the party.  I will also take care of me.  Especially my body.  I will learn, grow, cultivate those around me.  The next year should be extraordinary for me.  The coming of my refined anatomy is so welcome, despite the challenges it poses.  Changing sex is a full-time life, much more than a job.  It requires all of me.