Ok. so some of you that I said I had a big announcement but this is part of it.
Guest blogging. that and now I am part of a syndicate..
The Queer Syndicate It's like your favorite shows joined up to make up on their own channel. I was in invited by
Lex a.k.a Mutant Panda. If you haven't read his blog I urge you to do so. His blog is one of those blogs that you set up on your DVR and then you watch it without interruptions in a collection. SO awesome. He's a man, a husband, a father, an artist, who happens to be bisexual and just happens to be fucking awesome. The OTHER big one is later on this week. Work has been getting hectic yadda yadda yadda ANYWAYS!
Well let me get this intro thing over with. Timea Quon is an awesome writer. She is that one writer that you read you can see why she why it's going to be hard for her to be famous. She's too good for the main stream. In a western world of Kardashians, Snookis, Bad Girls Club with disposable liquor, and Barbie wannabe. She instantly comes off as that girl you see in a John Hughes the movie that the protagonist
should be dating. She's Lady Ducky if you would. She can out drink you, out smoke you and of course with her heart , out love you. A real life Tank Girl with 20% more grit~n~awesomeness and someone I have the honor to feature on my blog. Hopefully it won't be her last. If it wasn't her folks I wouldn't be writing this blog..at all. She inspired me to start this thing. Seriously.
I asked to write about her experiences dating as a post-op woman. Not gonna cut into her stage time too much.
No pics for flare, just raw ass writing
Before she kicks off just one more thing. You want to submit something just email me. I think You kinda get the stuff I want. You want to keep it anonymous well...duh..no prob. Don't need a blog either. Just submit your stuff.
So without further ado..Timea Quon
I can’t really comprehend why I would be offering insight on the topic of being a post operative transwoman in the dating world. True I’m a post operative transwoman and yes I have been seriously dating the love of my life for the past six months. But fact is I am in no way an authority on dating and relationships. Partly because I haven’t really had much experience in that realm but mostly because I find dating nauseating. Granted finding love and traversing this landscape has been nothing short of wonderful and the total opposite of sickening but all past experiences, however limited they maybe, were akin to a really dry rogering by an over enthusiastic line backer. None too pleasant, despite what you may have heard....
When I first decided on having surgery to become “female bodied” I was confronted with hesitancy and adversity from those around me. Mostly if not all out of concern for my well being. The number one reason put forth to try to dissuade me from having the surgery was in regards to relationships and potential partners. It was pointed out rather enthusiastically that commonly transwomen experience better success finding partners (particularly male ones) when they are pre or non operative. It was like a disclaimer before an adult oriented television show. Viewer discretion is advised and also, dudes will dig you more if you keep your junk. I was naturally defiant and retorted every time about the idiocy of that belief. If I identify as a straight chick and want to date dudes naturally I shouldn’t encounter problems if I fit the mould of what said dudes typically look for. In other words, Scarlett Johansson. Truth be told I was so fucking wrong all I can do is laugh. Laugh and sob. Then laugh some more. Then sob, then drink, then laugh and then I don’t remember what happens.
See, the sad fact is that being trans is almost always going to go hand in hand with loathing yourself in some way. It’s a broad statement and kinda harsh but sadly very true. From personal experience and from discussion with other trans folk that feeling of self loathing is a major motivator, duh. Obviously if you’re born in the wrong body and forced to confine yourself to the wrong shaped box and present to the world as something you’re not you’ll reach a point where it is gut wrenching to even look in the mirror or utter your own name. And when you loathe yourself so much for so long it becomes habitual. You make it a part of your daily routine. And even when you rectify that error that was at the forefront of your mind for so long you still have a tendency to look at yourself with disdain from time to time (some more than others). To be confronted with this fact that I may have supposedly shot myself in the foot was a trifle alarming to say the least.
After the 100th dude questioning why I would cut off the best thing about me I really started to ponder if I was in fact doomed to spinster hood for the rest of my life and subsequently started planning what shade of tabby I would adopt to start my vast collection of cat children I would in turn release into the night to exact my wrath on douchebag A through Z. I took one of two possible routes and that was totally secluding myself away and accepting that nobody would ever give two shits about me and that all physical contact would be relegated to random drunken one night stands with dudes who would be blissfully aware I used to have a schlong. And this was comforting for about an hour til I realized I was in no way girly enough to both entice dudes into one night stands and keep them ignorant that I wasn’t like most girls. Sad but true.
The other route was the all too splendid manner of settling. Not for 2nd best but generally just settling for whatever came along that was A) human and B) breathing. I’ve seen it happen many times. A beautiful example of humanity, a kind heart who just happens to be trans and sees it as a shortcoming and reason to settle for the one who cheats left right and centre only to come home and verbally (and many times physically) abuse them.
Such a wealth of options as you can tell. Not being a quitter I found my resolve and opted back into the dating world choosing to ignore what society (and family and friends) told me as well as the bad taste left in my mouth by the aforementioned 100 dudes. Men were open, men were receptive and approaching me. Shit was easy I tell you what. This was promising, perhaps I could be choosey, perhaps I could meet the “one”.
The results were less than stellar.
In one month I was stood up 3 times by 3 different dudes who later offered little to no explanation ranging from “something came up” to “oh I didn’t think you wanted a boyfriend”.
Assholes.
The following month after interacting online for weeks and really clicking with one gent I was crestfallen to have him go on vacation to Brazil and seemingly NEVER return. YEAH. One week in the tropics and just drop off the face of the earth. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see that I was played but a (not too) small part of me really hopes he was eaten by a giant snake which then rejected his emulsified corpse leaving him to be defecated and violated by Capybara. A month later I met a dude who unfathomably was into me unconditionally, did not see my trans identity or the fact I was super tomboyish as a shortcoming.
It was splendid, it was thrilling, he was moving the next week to South America. Now tell me what the fuck is with dudes either travelling or moving to South America? This one was flirty though and said he could easily fall for me if he had time. I took this to mean we could stay in touch and possibly develop something. He blocked me and stopped responding to messages.
Needless to say my confidence level by now wasn’t too high. And the whole time amidst my rage and emotional agony I kept insisting that all the shit slung my way was because I was transgendered. I began to loathe myself even more and was fast on the path of self destruction until it dawned on me that what I was experiencing was not selective of trans people and only trans people. What I was experiencing was common ground for every man or woman, queer or straight. It was called living and growing and experiencing. And in an odd way was a great blessing because it taught me to not only embrace my unique quality as a transwoman but to also accept it as commonplace in my life and no more a defining aspect than my brown hair or body weight. It was just one of many traits that combined with the rest made up a whole that is bad ass and worthy of a perfect fit for me and me alone.
Ultimately this is the realization all trans people need to reach: that you will have a rough go of it but much of what you experience is experienced by others just in a different form and variety. What doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger and I guarantee some asshole not calling back isn’t going to kill you. Some douchebag saying you’re a subpar wannabe woman with a Frankenstein cunt isn’t going to kill you. It’ll sting and it’ll chap your ass but you can and will rise above it to find greatness.
Greatness for me comes from Oklahoma. Perfection in the form of a human being who is beautiful and sincere and loving unconditionally of me with no regards to my being a trans person. He recognizes it as just one of many traits that makes up the whole he loves. And I offer that love back to him. Corny as fuck but it’s true. The diamond in the rough. In the long run you just have to accept you’re not every persons cup of tea but there are folks who will come to appreciate you as is, be it pre op or post op or non op or genderqueer or intersex. Same for being tall, short, fat, skinny, any colour of the rainbow etc. Seek and you will find and just try to enjoy the ride. And avoid men with a penchant for travelling to South America.
