Being spread too thin in the most delicious way

Pretty much the only thing that I prioritise over writing is people.  In-person interactions with beautiful and luscious people.  I have been swallowed up by life of late, and it has a taste of ecstasy in every breath.

I sat in a restaurant today with someone I irreverently think of and call my sugar mommy.  She is not really, but she is a kind of generous with me that I have rarely experienced.  Apart from being gorgeous, insanely talented, successful, and well put together, she is a bringer of gifts.

My two receiving love languages are physical touch and words of affirmation.  My giving love languages are acts of service and quality time.  To me, quality time is as much about silence as it is about the spoken word.

I have a domme friend who revels in physical presence.  She and her partner are lifestyle D/s, and the way she describes aspects of their dynamic speaks to my soul.  Imagine this: spending the day in chains under your beloved’s desk, simply to be there for them.  Is there any more pure form of presence?  When someone values your silent presence, your insides echo with the passion of energetic love. This is also the antidote to ADD.

My reality is that I am a flirt.  I am also painfully shy when it comes from going from the abstract, flirtatious, will-she won’t-she, to actually touching, kissing.  I do just ache to be taken.  Primal women turn me to jelly.

In this restaurant, with this beautiful woman, I was stunned on asking for the bill when our waitress said, “the manager just decided to comp you dessert because she loves you so much.  We all think you are so beautiful and cool.”  Who wouldn’t want to be trans?

I do feel sorry for Sarah McBride, the new US congresswoman, the very first trans woman in Congress, and how her election victory has been turned into poisonous political football by the Republican caucus.  Her reaction has been to toe the line, and apparently her Democrat colleagues have asked her to not “rock the boat.”  Much of the trans community is up in arms.  What should be a joyous and celebratory moment in her life has become toxic.  And while I do not wear her shoes, I can only feel that this is why she chose to run.  It is certainly why I would run.  And while I hope I never face overt bigotry and violence again (I already have), I am choosing to speak up and be a pain in the ass whenever I can.

If there is a spectrum from misgendering to violence, I am discovering the lurid wasteland of the bigot.  It is no place to be.  But I accept that being a woman, a trans woman, comes with headwinds.  I accept them.  I embrace them.  They make me stronger.

Walking on the street today, on my way to meet my lover, a gorgeous young woman just erupted in smile at me.  As a man, this never happened to me.  As a trans woman, it is an almost daily occurrence.  She is telling me so many things: that she feels it is safe to stare or look at me (something she cannot do with a man), that she is an ally, that she is a supporter.  What a beautiful thing!

The Den Mother noted to me [and by the way, this is not intended to be a political post] that values were the central theme of the last election.  “Anyone who says it was about policy is hiding from the truth.  And when your values include rape, disrespect for women and all marginal members of society, subversion of the rule of law, then you are not someone I can make space for in my life.  Period.  A vote for Trump is a statement of values.  Who gives a shit about policy, this is existential.”

So, when a woman smiles at me like that, I know also that we have shared values.  And that really matters.  When a restaurant manager goes out of their way to let me know that I am not just welcomed, but celebrated for the risk I am taking, it feels uncommonly good.

My lover was positively blown away by that and noted that such things seem to be “common” occurrences with me.  She noted that it was the result of my sweet disposition.

Today, I practiced my little girl voice with her.  This is something which is really important to me.  My voice coach nailed it.  In a few sentences, she gave me decades of therapy.

“The essence of you is innocence.  You’re like a child, with this sense of curiousity and wonder.  Gentleness.  You wear it so clearly.  That is your voice.  Until you let her speak, you will never find your female voice.  Because your voice is hers.  And she’s a little girl.”

I shared this with another friend and together we explored the consequences.  I shared with her that when I am around men, I tend to default back to man-voice.  Or when I am around male clients, my voice is a very sultry, sexualized female voice.

She too encouraged me to speak like a little girl, so I did.  Her view?  “Men will respond to this.  It is powerful.  It is powerful to say you are vulnerable, that you are a little girl.  Men will want to protect you.  That is their nature.  Try it.  Do it.  I know its true.”

As I skitter across variations of my voice, seeking purchase, I am hearing this little girl in me speak, and I am liking it.  I am liking to be speaking almost like a baby.  And so far, not even my children, who are the first to tell me I sound unnatural, are saying that.  They do react to sultry femme fatale voice; they don’t like it no matter how good it feels to me.  But with little girl voice, they don’t even bat an eyelid.

And I wonder, is this because I am seemingly more genuine?  I realize that my truth is that I really am still a little girl in so many ways.  Expressing that is profoundly empowering.  Yes, I am vulnerable; yes, I am a baby; yes, I want you to protect me; yes, I am curious; yes, I am playful.  I want you to feel my truth in my voice.

And do you know what?  As strange as it my seem, this is my domme voice too.  The more I do this, the more powerful it feels to give voice to my submissive energy when I top someone.  This caring, nurturing pleasure is rooted in play.

I have made the choice to be “face out” as a Sex Worker.  The logic is the same as all of the above.  But there is more.  I seek to burn the bridges behind me.  No turning back.  I wish to cultivate that feeling of “what have I got to lose?”  I want to feel proud of my choice.  If someone does not wish to work with me in another field because I do this too, I embrace the consequences.  It does not reflect on me anything other than courage…what it reflects on them is a kaleidoscope of shades of shame.  More and more, my clients will choose me because I will shine a light on that which we all hide.

If I can be a light along the trail for my trans brothers and sisters because I refuse to hide, refuse to sit down, and will embrace civil disobedience when it presents itself, then I am happy.  We cannot own democracy, liberty, our freedom, unless we are prepared to fight for it.