When I came out to my spouse in 2012, I knew the risks. Part of me held to some silly vain stupid hope that my marriage could be salvaged. Part of me wanted to believe that she and I, we, were better than that. I should have known better. I shouldn’t have even given the tiniest spark to such vain hopes. I didn’t choose to end that marriage. She did, no matter what she claims to the contrary. She’s the one that laid down the ultimatum of “transition, and we’re done”.
But I saw this exactly like I saw my fight against cancer in 1996. I had a great medical team, therapists, doctors, endocrinologists, and they all agreed that my health and well being were best served by transitioning. So with great reluctance I began that process, and I spent two months crying myself to sleep in 2012, grieving for my marriage. There’s lots I could say that I learned here about how others felt about me, but I don’t want to focus on such negatives, so I won’t.
Throughout my transition, up to now, this point, after having had GCS, I’ve been celibate and not actively looking at the dating community at all. I am aware that there is an entire fetish subculture that chases pre-op and non-op trans women as “chicks with dicks”. If you don’t like that phrase, it’s the ugly reality of how our society views pre-op and non-op trans women. It’s ugly. The woman is viewed as a “thing” and she’s used as a thing. The complete epitome of male sexual objectification of women occurs in the trans “chaser” community and how they treat those women.
For that reason alone, I stayed out of the dating pool. And because I was technically still married. It’s just a marriage of tax convenience but this too will end soon enough. But now GCS is done. And things are changing. I’m still a long ways off from being a responsive sexual partner to someone, but the nerves are beginning to wake up.
And wake up, do they! Random firings all over the place. An electric shock sensation that would make me leap out of bed except certain sutures are pretty sore at the moment. Random neural firings just all over the place.
Of course, then there’s dilation too. I’m not very far along on this yet but already I’m discovering that certain sensations are pleasant, that they even make me wonder what certain experiences would ultimately be like.
And that leads to day dreams. I suppose many women, trans or not, dream of finding Mr. Right (and some of finding Ms. Right). I admit to such thoughts, such dreams. But I also admit to the cold reality that trans acceptance among those my age, late 50s give or take a few years, is pathetically, horribly low. And that’s where day dreams snap back to reality. Within all probability, my remaining years will be spent alone, fending off dates from men who want nothing but sex, with almost zero chance of finding that person who wants a relationship, a friendship, a sexual intimacy, all together with a person with whom they could spend the rest of their life.
Could it happen? Yes, the odds are not zero. But will it? The odds are not good and I know this. It crosses my mind every single day. And I knew this going into transition and still chose transition, because the alternative was to die.
When people say trans people have a “choice”, it’s not much of a choice when the choice is between finally being yourself or dying. Yet I know people who would have preferred I had killed myself. Unfortunately for them, I chose life, even if that turns out to be a life alone.
In the meanwhile, I have close friends, supportive friends. Two of my three children accept me and want me involved more in their lives. I have nieces, nephews, a sister-in-law all who support me and eagerly want to see me again. It’s been a few too many years since I was back to Ohio.
What I plan to do is live my life. I’ll be open to that day that Mr. Right walks into my life but I won’t pine away wondering if or when he ever will. If it happens, good. And if not? Someone lost a chance to find out how much this trans woman could value a life partner.
The odds aren’t good but if I don’t play the game, I can never win, right?