Sunday, December 19, 2010
My Boyfriend Hates My Genitalia
I dated this nontrans guy for several months. We met online and were really only meant to fuck a couple times and call it a night. Him: white doctor's kid from Oklahoma. I was his first almost everything. First black person he'd dated. First trans man he'd fucked. First leftist he'd engaged with on the daily. To say the relationship was froth with problems and misalignment would be a gross understatement. Our first fight was over whether or not racism still existed. Before hooking up with him, I'd totally forgotten how race, gender and class privilege can totally distort your idea of reality. I kept asking him what the hell a rich white kid from Oklahoma could know about the black experience in America.
Perhaps the most stymying thing of all was his dislike, no, aversion for my genitalia. We first met as he, newly out of the closet, was embarking on his then new life as a gay man. I was about to go back on hormones but felt unsure if the life of a gay trans man was in the cards for me. We met somewhere at the beginning of these new journeys and, granted, this wasn't exactly the ideal circumstance under which to build anything of consequence. The first night I went to his place, I was bugging out over whether or not I passed enough. As he cooked dinner and talked about his love for all things masculine, he kept sneaking peeks at my chest. This was before my work-out obsession, so the pecs were more tit-like.
After dinner, he jumped me on his couch. I felt awkward, like I was going through the motions and he was doing what was expected of him. That's when I noticed I was angling my crotch away from his. I didn't want the reality of my body to dawn on him. I wanted to keep the illusion going as long as possible. Yeah, he knew about me being trans. And yeah, I knew about his preference for cock. But somehow here we were, trying out something that neither of us knew shit about.
This moment marked our relationship. Every time we fucked and he touched my clit, oftentimes half-heartedly, I knew. Every time he'd rather I sucked his cock than do anything else, I felt it. Every time he gave some reason we couldn't have sex, it was obvious. He wanted nothing to do with my pussy. He was turned on by the physical changes brought on by T. The muscles. The deepening voice. "I'm a gay man," was his stock answer whenever I asked him why he didn't like touching me down there. "So am I," I'd respond. Is that all sexual orientation is about? Whether you prefer cock to pussy or the other way around? This question nagged at me throughout our time together. I wanted to respect his coming out process and his identity as a gay man. But what did this identity have to do with my genitalia?
Thankfully, I gained some perspective (too much) later and ended it. But I still think about this question of genitalia and sexual orientation. Through my experiences I've learned that for some gay nontrans men, my pussy is kinda like "trying a new dish" and for others it's no mans land - they may get turned on by the rest of me, but can't quite reconcile themselves to the juxtaposition of a masculine body and a vagina.