Category Archives: relationshipping

relationshipping

She expected me to leave

She expected me to leave

but instead I stayed.

If she hadn’t come out to me, I would’ve left.
Strange?
Not so much if you know the why.

7 months of dating, cohabitating and…
we’re still getting to know each other but a little something is missing…nothing I can articulate or am losing sleep over but there’s a faint yellow light blipping on my radar.

10 happy coupled months have passed but something’s up.  It’s like we were rambling through this curious and enchanting forest, noticing randomly fascinating, new and endearingly odd things about each other and then- bam.  I hit an unexpected beige wall.

Why the boring, all of a sudden?  I know there’s way more to him than what he’s presenting these days.  It’s as though his brain is on auto-pilot and a certain spark is missing.  It’s a vague-ish subject to broach but I try…
Me: Um, are you not bored these days?  Because I am.  And frustrated.
Him: I wish I had time to be bored.  He does have a crazybusy schedule.  Maybe he’s just over his lack of him-time?
Me: It doesn’t feel like we’re in a weird, stagnant place?
Him: Well, we are because we both want to move.  Okay, I didn’t mean it so literally.  And you’re not making enough art.  If you made more art, you’d be happier.
Hmm…if this is his way of deflecting, it’s working.  But he’s being sincere and he speaks the truth so…I put the focus on myself and draw some damn unicorns with exploding goiters.

15 months, we’ve decided Tokyo is our destination city and we’ve got 11 months to get our shit together.
As I ponder an us, looking towards the future, this bit happens:
Him: When I can completely share everything with you, then I’ll know I can really commit to you.
Me: Oh.  Ouch.  We’re about to move 7,000+ miles away and maybe at some arbitrary point you’ll know you can commit?  We don’t even have the same definition of commit, do we?  Oh fuckfuckfuck.  

And now I feel like a fool.
I trust him enough to trust him with everything; at the same time, there’s nothing more I can do/be for him to trust me.

So I start to retreat; clearly I had mistaken the us in the future.

At 18 months he comes out to me.
Thank. Fucking. God.
This is everything?
Now maybe we can try to have a relationship.

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relationshipping, trans talk

She doesn’t hear me

She doesn't hear me anymore

because she’s got her own issues.

Which I understand because I get consumed by hormonally induced insecurities but I swear, these days I’m listening to my former mirror and it’s jarring, understandable and kinda hilarious.

2011:
Me: I can’t fit into my jeans.  Any of them.  I’ve gained like 10 pounds since yesterday.
Him: That’s impossible.  You did not gain 10 pounds.
Me: It feels like it and I still can’t fit into anything.  I’m crazy bloated.
Him: No, just crazy.
Me: I look pregnant.
Him: Well, you’re not.  You’re beautiful and aren’t you going to be late for work?
Me: I can’t find anything that fits!  And I’m always late, which means I’ll be on time.  I have to maintain the routine; otherwise it’ll confuse the work folks.  Besides I can’t wear this.  This would be a housecleaning outfit that I bet BF has already taken a secret blackmail picture of: yellow and orange striped knee-high socks, green leopard print underwear, some bizarre hand-me-down thermal crop top and weird mid-calf boots.  I do this.  Cleaning is way more fun when I play some deranged version of dress up.
Him: Huge eye-roll, big smirk.  Dammit, he did take a photo…so fucking opportunistic.

And now:
Me: Arrrghhh!!!  I’m going to be so fucking late.  Crapshitfuck!!!  I hate this part of living in Tokyo.  I’m always late because I’m not early.  Since when is being on time late?!
Her: Do you see THIS?!!, pointing to her head.
Me: Huh?  What are you talking about?
Her: Seriously?  You don’t see it?
Me: Uh no…do you have something in your hair?  Check the weather.
Her: Unbelievable.  My hair was perfect and now it’s totally wrecked.
Me: What?  It looks fine to me.  I don’t get it.  Crap, where’s the umbrella?
Her: This is sticking straight out, pointing at the same spot on her head.  I look ridiculous.  I can’t believe you were going to let me leave the house like that.
Me: Is she pointing to a curl?!  I thought it looked all natural and purposely kinda messy.  Really, I have no idea what she’s talking about; I don’t see it.  Why don’t you pin it?  Snacks!  Pack snacks.
Her: Because that would look even more ridiculous.
Me: Okaaay…ponytail?  Ready!  Gotta run.
Her: Totally unimpressed eye-roll and…sliding tatami room door.

I believe I have been (r)ejected from this conversation.
Great, are we both PMS-ing?

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relationshipping

Was I a fake lesbian?

Was I a fake lesbian

Sure, according to an ex.

Many years ago she told me I was most likely a straight girl because our relationship was my only lesbian experience.  I was vaguely insulted by this because by that time we had been together for years and really, you’re telling me that I, in essence, am not a ‘real’ lesbian because if we were to break up I’d most certainly date a guy?

So much for living in the moment and seven years of historical evidence.
But I proved her right because I sure as hell ended up with a guy (at least at first).

When GF (then BF) and I started dating we had some queer talk:
Me: You know, when I was with ***, my hetero history was a strike against me.
Him: What do you mean?
Me: Because to her, since I’d only been with men boys up to that point, I wasn’t really gay.  Especially since she’d only ever dated women.
Him: If it was important to me to label you gay or straight, I’d prefer that you’d been with men and women.  Because you would know for sure if you were gay after those experiences.

And this might be when I started to fall for him.  I appreciate his rationale because it’s so darn sensible (and it just so happened to nullify my insecurities).  Not to mention dating me requires acceptance of my curious (and curiouser) history, which has shaped and transformed my worldview to the present.

Speaking of, when I saw IO Tillet Wright’s TED video, 50 Shades of Gay, I was immediately intrigued by her question:

“[I] asked people to quantify themselves on a scale of one to 100 percent gay, and I watched so many existential crises unfold in front of me. People didn’t know what to do, because they had never been presented with the option before.”

She brings up an excellent point regarding discrimination: where do you draw the line?  I actually had hetero guilt post lesbian relationship because I felt I had this weird privilege that I wasn’t used to; aside from lesbo-dyke slurs, I’d gotten kicked out of a store, for chrissakes, for holding my girlfriend’s hand.

I’m not 100% gay or straight, which means I’m floating in the grey with a surprisingly large part of the population, which really makes LGBTQ discrimination fucking inane and just plain dumb.

Happy Pride 2013, y’all.
Was I a fake lesbian

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relationshipping, trans talk

My new normal

My new normal

isn’t so abnormal, is it?

My life isn’t contained in this crazy-magical, rainbow-confetti snowglobe whirlwind filled with exploding closets, overcrowded vanities and non-stop tucking.  Really, my life is fairly mundane.  Everyday I am just being me, staying busy, surviving and hopefully thriving.

Even to my chosen family (amazing, beautiful fucking weirdos) my situation is a tad incomprehensible.  But I get to thinking and the root issue with my transsexual GF is simply a matter of dealing with constant (sometimes massive) change and the overriding question on a steady loop in my head is, how much change can I really handle?  Sure, most people aren’t in my exact situation but don’t we all face this question in life?

I think I’m super adaptable and I like the idea of change but in my current relationship, my capacity to adjust and evolve is constantly and scrupulously examined.  My self-proclaimed open-mindedness and willingness to explore new and uncomfortable spheres haven’t been tested like this before.  

And it is daunting.  

Beneath my wanderlust and seemingly fluid sexuality, I don’t like experiencing too many changes at once.  And currently, many looming changes require perpetual shifting, transitioning and adapting, which means I’m experiencing consistent discomfort and insecurity.  My logical brain is over this taxing process, but my slightly sadistic side appreciates a mental earthquake and an emotional jolt.

Despite the confusion I face when thinking about the future with my GF (namely, is there one?), I really try to stay in the moment and not overthink what lies ahead.  This is difficult for me but it’s the only way our relationship has a chance of working out because who the hell knows how emotions and attractions will change; there is just no telling.  Staying supremely in the here and now is a huge challenge but the rigorous honesty it demands certainly keeps me from becoming complacent and that’s an excellent thing.

So moving to and living in Tokyo with a transsexual in transition means: people change, ideologies metamorphize, assumptions disappear and serious growth occurs…okay, wait, I totally lied; I do live in a  crazy-magical, rainbow-confetti snowglobe and I feel really fucking lucky for it.

P.S. Thank god for stupid fucking DOMA getting its ass kicked, right?

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relationshipping

No expectations after two years

No expectations after two years

is really fucking weird and hard.

But it’s the free-fall state that I have to be at peace with to give this new relationship a fair shot.
We have to start over.  Not in a hello-nice-to-meet-you-I’m-your-transsexual-girlfriend-and-we-have-no-history kind of way but in a she’s forging her identity anew so I cannot drag expectations I had of him into this new partnership.  It’s really strange to think that just six months ago I was thinking…maybe marriage?!

And now…one day at a time, sometimes it’s one hour at a time, especially when the future feels like the biggest unknown as I’m adjusting to her mannerisms, make-up, clothes, shoes- god the pairs of shoes this woman needs in her life.

I feel very challenged.  And usually I like a challenge but I wonder how successfully I can tough out a relationship where forget the tables being turned, I’m trying to order my entire house post-identity-awakening relationship earthquake.  I tell myself we can do it, nothing’s truly broken, just shaken up and I’m feeling freshly topsy-turvy on the inside because I’m not settled into her yet, i.e. there’s too much of him in my head-space still.  I have to hold strong and believe in an us because she’s not all that changed, other than being free to be herself for the first time in her life (which makes me sincerely and tremendously happy for her) and, right, we’re still doing an international move in less than six months.

Of course I have my moments of doubt: what the hell are we getting ourselves into, will it be too much change- her transitioning, finding a place to live, getting a job, who will prescribe her hormones in Japan, will she be able to find a supportive community, which neighborhood do I want to live in, um…how the fuck do I figure this shit out:
tokyo-subway-map

But I wanted an adventure and I’m sure as heck in the craziest one yet…laughing and crying with gratitude and wonderment for some more of life’s many, many surprises.

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relationshipping, trans talk

HOW can you think you will stay the same?

HOW can you think it will stay the same

It goes against all my logic.
I WANT to believe him when he says he’ll be the same on the inside.  I want this to be true because my insides are still blown away by his coming out and I’m actively processing at seemingly every moment, asking questions like: how much are things going to change, what will he look like, what will his transition entail (are there surgeries in the future- how many?), how long will it take for him to be happy, the list goes on.  At this point it’s been a couple months at most since he’s come out to me.  I’m still in love with him and if he’s right- that who he is on the inside will stay the same- then there’s a chance we can stay together…right?

Except:
I don’t know how he can stay the same.
The argument he presents is that he’ll still like the same things, treat me the same, have the same sense of humor etc.
I can see his perspective but- BIG but- what about all the external changes that will inevitably affect his identity and personality…who he is, in essence?
For instance, I don’t see his wanting to do things like picking me up off the ground in a big bear hug, slinging me over his shoulder, and swinging me around as I protest, kicking and screaming.  I’m already missing his manhandling me in the future.  I don’t want his new feminine identity to have to take a backseat because he knows that I want, possibly need, these very masculine acts of ownership in a relationship.
I wonder what will happen to us as our individual needs and wants seem headed toward irreconcilable differences.

And…

What if:
I become unattracted to her because she will, slowly but surely, no longer resemble the man who made my heart skip a beat?  I’m already grieving the future loss of sideburns, chest hair, lean but really strong arms and him in a simple white t-shirt and black hi-tops. This list of desirable traits lost will grow as time passes and whether my attraction takes an undeniable nosedive in relation to it remains to be seen.  Thinking about the future, this uncertainty scares me because sexual attraction doesn’t lie and its absence won’t be ignored.

Yeah…so my future holds potential personality changes and shifts in sexual attraction…all very straightforward and complicated.

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relationshipping, trans talk

How NOT to come out to your girlfriend

How NOT to come out to your girlfriend

How about not on ecstasy?

Especially if it’s your GF’s first time on E?

This is what I remember:
Consumption of bitter white powder and 15 minutes later, I’m reeling over the toilet as my body wants this poison out ASAP.  But it doesn’t come up and another 15 minutes later I think I start feeling pretty fuzzy and sedate.  My boyfriend joins me on the couch after his porch cigarette and we’re doing the ecstasy love-stare into each other’s eyes when…

Him: I have to tell you something.
*big, trepidatious sigh, pregnant pause*
I’m a crossdresser.
Me: Seriously?
Him: slowly nodding, Seriously.
Me: Okaaay…processing, processing, on MDMA, processing…I’m really glad you’re telling me this…I still love you. I believe we’re shedding some tears; his of relief and mine, sympathetic

And then I’m off the couch, über-happy, dancing to music (where did that lovely beat come from?) and I grab his hands.  Let’s dress you the way you want to be dressed!!!, I say.  I’m so fucking high and elated at this point and all I remember is a collage of pink, orange, white and blue fabrics and colored bras that I’m putting on my bf as I’m shown a remarkable collection of his heels. Wow.  The heel collection makes his confession hit home: my boyfriend really is a crossdresser. But that hit is short-lived as my emotions are still in a blissful E-tornado.

And then morning hits.

I feel like total crap.  I’m drained and my body is not impressed with the dose of toxins its been subjected to and my mind is trying to begin the morning-after sort.  After I re-realize that, yes, my boyfriend really did come out as a crossdresser last night, my emotions start to kick in. I suddenly have a zillion questions (since when? why now? does anyone else know? what does this mean? is this a precursor to something more? etc. etc.),  I’m confused for the future and I’m pissed (was it his plan to dope me ridiculously happy so I would give him the reaction he wanted?!!!). And WTF is this dreadful feeling in the pit of my stomach saying, “there’s more…”?  The trifecta of anger-suspicion-mistrust is the main reason why I suggest not coming out to your partner on mind-bending drugs.

Mostly unbeknownst to us, it will have turned out to be the 1st chapter of an entirely new relationship.

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relationshipping, trans talk

I thought my lesbian period was over.

I thought my lesbian period was over

Then my boyfriend came out of his transsexual closet, showcasing so many pairs of stilettos, giving my heels-wearing self a run for my money.  Hmm…so you want to be a woman.  And you want to stay with me.  AND we’re moving to fucking Tokyo in like, five months.

Okay…actually, NOT okay.

He came out as a transsexual around March 2012 and we were set to move that August. We’d been planning the move for a year, by the way.

I’m intellectually supportive, emotionally wrecked.  My former lesbian self, chock full of rainbow pride and many collegiate LGBTQ/marginalized peoples classes is incredibly proud of his courage to come out, to be who he needs to be.  My current self- his girlfriend- is shocked.  I’m already in shifted identity crisis: my stomach is in free-fall and my heart is cracking, bleeding, crying.  This might sound melodramatic but the thing is, I’m a supreme realist.  I didn’t know exactly what would happen but I knew his coming out would involve a future of constant change and adjustment.  And as much as I love a grand adventure, I prefer my romantic relationships on the un-rocky side; we all know that life deals enough challenges, no?

So I grieved the end of our two-year relationship as I knew it.  DAMN.  That really sucked as it was an awesome two years.

And here we are, in Tokyo, girlfriend and girlfriend.

After some reflection, recording the constant and hilarious assortment of cultural, relationship and sexual identity changes and hijinks seems the path of least regret.  I mean, who doesn’t enjoy a run-on story about a transsexual in transition and her moody girlfriend moving across the globe whilst learning Japanese, finding employment, eating the crap out of Japanese food etc. etc.?

We sure as hell jumped and she was right…the net appeared.

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