My partner and I recently had our one year anniversary. Please, hold your applause for America’s Favorite Couple. And even though we’ve been together for some time, there’s a lack of blog posts relating to this very queer part of my life. You’d think the blog content would be skyrocketing to new unimaginable levels. Over the course of our time dating I’ve tried to write multiple blog posts on what I’ve learned from dating a trans person, how that’s affected me, yada yada so on and so forth. But for some reason I haven’t been able to ever complete one and hit that publish button. So, today’s the day I’m going to lock in and do it. I think part of the reason I haven’t been able to finish the post is because there’s always a melancholic undertone to the reality of our situation. While my past queer relationship was challenging due to it being my first, and navigating how others perceived us, my situation here is different. I’m beyond worrying about coming out for the first time or being perceived as queer. Now, our difficulties lie in the state of the world and the reality of the transgender experience. Which is to say, it can be extremely difficult. But, it’s not all difficult and horrible. There are many awesome and amazing things about knowing and loving a trans person, and it’s taught me a lot about myself. So much so that I feel a need to write about it and post it on the internet. Let’s get into it!
- I’m Customizing my Character
I’ve done a lot of things recently to customize my character (and by that I mean change my appearance). In the past ten months I’ve gotten a shaggy haircut, a lip piercing, bangs, shaved the ends of my eyebrows off, grew out my armpit hair, and bleached my eyebrows. I’ve done a lot of these things thanks to my partner’s encouragement and seeing them express themselves so freely. For example, my partner told me I should get bangs. And while at first I thought this was a rude suggestion and it would make me look incredibly ugly, I did in fact get bangs and it was kind of the best decision ever. Because now I look hot and sexy and gayer. Additionally, my partner grows out their armpit hair, which inspired me to do the same. I thought it looked really hot and cool on them, which made me question why I had never grown mine out. I found it incredibly strange that I had never seen my body with hair that naturally grows because of some made up patriarchal, capitalistic expectation that I as a female should have no body hair. Eek! I was succumbing to patriarchal expectations and infantilizing myself for the male gaze?! Something had to be done. So, I grew out my armpit hair and now I’ve had them grown out for four months and I don’t plan on going back to shaving them anytime soon. Sure, I could have grown out my armpit hair and done all of these things on my own at any time. But witnessing my partner express themselves so freely, and beyond the gender binary, encourages me to do the same. Being with them gives me a safe space to explore my appearance and self expression, and I knew I would have at least one person in my corner hyping me up.
- I’m Exploring my Gender
My partner taught me how to bind using trans tape. They showed me how to apply it, gave me tips for removal, and gave me some tape in case I wanted to try again later. It felt really special to do that together, to see an aspect of my partner’s life and to try it with them. It was a really comforting experience. I felt like I was in such a safe space to explore my gender and to try new things. Afterwards we talked about our own experiences with gender, how we feel, signs we were queer as kids. It was so special and so queer.
It felt really nice to be a cis person and bind, something I’ve realized does not get a lot of representation, but is perfectly normal and cool. I’m a person who typically goes braless, and I wear a lot of tank tops and little shirts. Binding my chest made me realize how much I focus on covering up, worrying about if I’m bending over the wrong way, if I need to cover my chest. Having my chest bound for a couple days felt so comfortable. I never worried about my top slipping or who was around when I was getting dressed and shirtless.
Once I took the tape off, it made me realize how much energy I spent focusing on my body, and worrying about how clothes would sexualize it. And I really did not like that! Because there’s nothing inherently sexual about the body. It’s all just made up ideas in order to control people, especially women. And I sure as hell am not going to be a victim to the patriarchy.
So now I’ve been making a conscious effort to simply exist in my body. What does this look like? I’m shirtless more often. I get out of the shower at night and do my night routine without a shirt. That’s maybe five or ten minutes. I tell myself there’s nothing sexual about my body. If a man can bend over and not worry about his shirt showing his chest, I can too.
Dating an asexual trans person has given me space to simply exist. I never worry about being perceived in a sexualized or gendered way, and that makes me feel very free to just be a human being. I’m not doing certain acts or gendered things in our relationship because I’m “supposed to.” I’m just existing and doing what makes me happy.
- My Sexuality is More Fluid Than I Thought
When I started dating my partner I identified as a lesbian, but that label quickly went out the window. Using the term lesbiam to describe myself was something I did casually, and while it felt okay, it was never perfect. Then, I started dating my partner, who is not a girl and not a lesbian, and I realized that label was too restrictive. I think I just like people who are queer. I don’t want to date a cishet man, but my partner is much more boy than they are girl, and I like them very much. I’m just attracted to queerness and hot people, and that typically manifests as women and gender non-conforming people. If in a hypothetical world my partner fully transitions to a boy, I wouldn’t have an issue with it.
Additionally, I’ve been able to explore what my asexuality means as a 22 year old in a serious relationship. I think for a long time I have been unintentionally boxing myself in. I’ve been realizing that by using the ace label, I haven’t really considered how I would feel in sexual experiences that aren’t sex or won’t lead to sex. There was a long period of identifying as asexual where I felt that I didn’t want to do anything that fell under the category of sexual. But the thing is, when you don’t experience sexual attraction, what makes something sexual? Things that might be sexual to someone else might just feel romantic to me. And even if I am interested in more “sexual” acts, that’s okay. I’ve been learning that the basic definition of asexuality fits me: experiencing little to no sexual attraction. Just because I don’t experience sexual attraction doesn’t mean I can’t participate in “sexual” activities. To put it in an analogy, you can eat when you’re not hungry.
Aesthetic attraction is so real. Sensual attraction is so real. I never expected to feel this kind of desire I do with my partner. I haven’t given myself enough space to understand how I experience desire, but now I am exploring that. Things I didn’t think I would be comfortable with, or want to do, are actually things I find fun and I want to do. It feels so special and important to me to be able to learn about my sexuality in a safe, loving environment.
My partner and I have had conversations about what we’d be comfortable with if we had sex. Up until recently, I was fully planning on never having sex. Staying a “virgin” for life. And while this has all been mere conversation, it’s fascinating to understand this part about myself. For the sake of experimentation, of closeness with my partner, maybe even “fitting in,” there’s a part of me that’s curious and open to it, and I never thought that was possible.
- I Have to be Really Fucking Emotionally Vulnerable
Luckily for me, I’m the most emotionally mature person on earth. Trust that my therapist is proud of me. The reality of me and my partner’s situation is that their trans identity affects their mental health. Their parents don’t support them, they’re not out at work, and they desire HRT, which they’re not currently on. They’re living a double life as the person I know them as, and someone who is a stranger to me. That takes a toll on a person! Additionally, we’re long distance. It can feel challenging to not be able to comfort each other with a hug or other physical reassurance when we’re far away. This also means that vulnerable conversations are almost always through a screen.
I feel really proud of the communication my partner and I have. We allow each other to sit in silence, to share, to cry, to pause conversations and come back. Recently I noticed that I was initiating physical intimacy more than my partner was, and I asked them if that was something they noticed as well. And honestly, I was really nervous to ask this. Part of me was thinking about worst case scenarios. But it turns out, their lack of initiation had nothing to do with me, and everything to do with the dysphoria they feel. This is a new conversation for both of us. I’ve never experienced wanting physical intimacy, and both of us are trying to find the language to express our feelings and what makes us both the most comfortable.
I have a hard time saying my feelings out loud. That’s why I write a lot. Because these conversations happen over FaceTime, I like to make a point to schedule when we’re going to talk about more emotionally heavy things. This then forces me to know when conversation is coming, and give me time to gather my feelings and prepare to share them. It’s a lot easier to gauge someone’s body language and mood in person, and we have very different needs when it comes to expressing emotions. I get anxious over not talking and want to clear things up right away, but my partner has a very difficult time being emotionally vulnerable. This means that we plan a time to talk so I don’t anxious-spiral, and spend a lot of time sitting in silence as they work through their feelings.
After my partner and I talk, one of us says “Thank you for sharing,” and the other responds “Thank you for listening” (which I think would be the outro to our hypothetical couples podcast).
So tl;dr, it’s really slay and awesome to date a trans person. Trans people are hot and awesome and empathetic and cool and fashionable and teach us about dismantling oppressive systems by just existing. And personally, I’m very grateful to date a trans person and I love that my partner is trans. And, if you have someone in your life who is trans, or you’re dating a trans person, you should tell them you love their transness.
Alright. I’ll talk to y’all in the next post. Thanks for reading!
Average Asexual 