Sexuality Happens

We met in a bar – she was on stage singing her heart out to one of the bands whose songs always make me alternate between wanting to have sex and wanting to curl up in a ball and cry.

God, could she sing. Her voice was like warm honey; raw, sweet and slightly addictive. The more you heard her sing, the more you wanted to hear her sing. I wanted to hear her sing, and I wanted to hear her sing to me, her hazel eyes making contact with mine, her soul pouring into me.

I didn’t know how I felt about karaoke. The problem wasn’t the usual ones; I wasn’t embarrassed, I didn’t have stage fright, no need to picture the audience in their underwear, though I was sure as hell picturing what she was wearing under her jeans and worn t-shirt. No, the problem was that I can’t sing. A theatre person, born and bred, and yet I never learned to read music, never learned what a chord was, and had no idea how to hit notes that I didn’t even know existed. However, I am a ham at heart, and had to figure out a way to make her notice me.

Madonna was the answer. Madonna is always the answer. Honestly, is there a Madonna song that doesn’t make you think about sex? No. I filled out the sheet of paper with the miniature pencil provided in the binder of countless songs, walked through the crowed bar of punk rockers, goths scenesters and rockabilly chicks, and handed it to the woman running the stage. Then I headed back to my booth, never taking my eyes off the gorgeous woman on stage whose voice was tugging at parts of me I didn’t even know I had.

Sipping on my cocktail, I watched her superstitiously from under my lashes as she finished to a healthy smattering of applause, certainly more than anyone else had received. I watched her walk off the stage, PBR in hand. I watched as she was greeted by people on the way back to her table, new fans as impressed with her voice as I was. I watched as she swung back a shot of whiskey, as easy as if it was a sip of water, and then settled in to watch the stage.

I’m not that girl, that girl who can flirt, that girl that can approach random people. I’m just me. I get by on my personality and quirkiness, and when that doesn’t lure them in, then I get by by going home alone and getting myself off. I didn’t want that tonight. I wanted her. I was going to get her, damn it…I just didn’t know how.

The woman on stage called my name. Slinging back the remains of my drink, mostly melted ice by this point, I slowly walked to the stage. I wasn’t sure if the best plan might not just be running for the door and flipping through my phone book looking for a booty call. But it was too late now – eyes were on me as I walked up to the stage. I made eye contact with her as I walked by her table, and she tipped her can towards me. Could she smell my fear? Sense my lust? Or was she just being polite?

Climbing the steps, I grabbed the mic. The intro bars of the song started. I fidgeted on stage, unsure of what to do during the intro. I settled with closing my eyes and slightly swaying to the music until it was my turn to provide the entertainment to this crowd who didn’t really care what I sang or how well, as long as they were somewhere after me in the line up and their drinks were still flowing. The first words appeared on the blue screen.

“Life is a mystery…” I sung into the mic, quietly, hesitating.

Some guy who’d had a few too many shouted “Louder! We didn’t come here to watch a deer in the headlights.” Everyone laughed, but she didn’t. She was looking at me with a speculative look on her face. I took a deep breath, through the diaphragm, as we were always taught, and started singing again, this time, a little louder. I was still a little meek, still a little questioning, until I hit the chorus.

“When you call my name, it’s like little prayer, down on my knees, I want to take you there.” I dropped to my knees at the appropriate part in the song, and once again, made eye contact with the woman whose voice made me burn and freeze inside. She held my gaze throughout the rest of the song. The song wasn’t for the aggressive men or the pretty women watching me through their beer goggles. I’d chosen it for her – I had wanted her to notice me, and here she was, her gaze burrowing into me as I sang to the best of my non-ability. Oddly enough, my voice never wavered, although I’m sure I didn’t sound any good. I made it through the song, and though I was sober after only one drink, I stumbled down the stairs. As I headed back to my booth, the spell from the stage had been broken, my eyes following my shoes on the floor.

When I passed her table, avoiding her eyes, a hand reached out to stop me, and pulled me into her, close enough to feel her warmth against me. Bringing her face ever closer to mine, so that our cheeks touched, so that a spark of electricity ran through my body, she whispered in my ear “How can I call your name if I don’t know it?”

I froze. Truly a deer in the headlights. What was I supposed to say to something like that? I opened my mouth, trying to come up with a smart retort, but when I tried to speak, all that came out was my name. “Ella.”

“Good to know.” She reached up to run her hand along my cheek and down my neck, lighting my body ablaze. Her speaking voice was just as entrancing as when she was on stage singing, and I wanted her even more. Slowly, her hand continued down my body, briefly brushing the top of my breasts peaking over my shirt, creeping along as I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply until her hand reached mine, fingers entwining with mine. She stood up, and pulled me towards the back of the bar, into the dark, and I followed her there, no hesitation in me now.

As purposely as she guided me there, she pushed open the door to the women’s bathroom, pulling me in. Once there, she nudged open the door of the handicapped stall, and without even bothering to lock it, pressed my body against the wall. My lips found hers around the same time her hand wrapped itself in my hair at the base of my scalp, gripping but not quite pulling. I took in a deep breath. Few things turn me on as much as having someone’s hand in my hair, pulling, guiding me.

Part two is coming tomorrow…and so am I ;)

Essin’ Em

I love love love Lelo toys. Like <——-> much. No, really.

And thank goodness for the Liv, because this fancy schmancy vibe has restored my faith in this amazing company, after a run in with the Lily, which left me a bit unimpressed.

I guess the explanation is that I only like the length type toys from this amazing company, because I <3 the Liv almost as much as I am enamored with the Gigi, and let me tell you that says A LOT.

I started out a bit hesitant with the Liv, after my run in with Lily. Granted, I’d had it charged up for a while. I took it to the Fetish Party, in case M had wanted to play in public. She didn’t, so it sat in my leopard print travel sex toy bag for a while, sitting and waiting. Finally, I decided it was time; I put it in my travel suitcase, and off I went to go tell the world about the evils of Amendment 48 in Colorado and why they should vote NO on 48. That night, I stayed with Chris. I showed it to her, we oohed and ahhed over it, and then went out for drinks, leaving poor Liv all alone.

Never fear; the next night in the hotel, I brought out Liv. Granted, it might have been slightly blasphemous…I was watching the Olympics, and decided that was as good a time as any to give Liv her trial run. But never you mind. I turned her on; I was still hot and bothered from a certain text I’d received the night before, so I was pretty much raring and ready to go.

Like the Gigi, the Liv has almost a high pissed whine on the lowest vibration settings that triggers headaches. Luckily, I like my sex toys like I like my women; on full speed, so I raised the power level and was good to go. Also like the Gigi, the Liv has not only variable power settings, but also several different programs that are great for mixing things up, and keeping you from getting bored with this fantastic toy.

I started using it on my clit, and yes, it was fabulous. Then I put it inside me, and yes, it was fabulous. It’s a different shape than the Gigi, but it still feels absolutely amazing inside (although I don’t know if anything can ever compete with the shape of the Gigi). However, I’d come to a dilemma. I needed something inside me to come, but I also needed the vibration on my clit. As I was in a hotel, I was sans any of my dildos, but I was so fucking close, and wanted to come so bad. Luckily for me, I’m like a non-homophobic boy scout, and I come prepared (prepared to come?). I popped a condom out of my purse, slid it down the non-spikey end of my hairbrush, and voila – instant dildo, like being 15 again. Plus, the bristles tickling my inner thighs felt pretty fucking amazing. Good thing I came prepared.

I teased myself a little with the different programs, and then I just turned it on high, and constant. I came, and I came hard. A few times, I’m not going to lie. And then I washed it off. If was going to share, I’d wipe the silicone part down with a 10% bleach solution.

My only beef with this toy is the same one I had with the Gigi – while fucking/being fucked, it’s easy to accidentally hit a button that will change the program, and let me tell you, this is very frustrating.

Otherwise, this toy is AMAZING! Like ridiculous. I’d put it one notch below the Gigi, because I like that shape better, but still freaking fabulous. And I like the color (navy blue – much darker than the picture) better than the choices for the Gigi.

Easily 5 stars (out of 5), and a high recommendation from me.

To get your own Liv (or Gigi, for that matter), head on over to VibeReview and pick up a Lelo for your very own. You won’t regret it, I promise!

-Essin’ Em

The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #145? Submit a link to your best post of the week using this form. Participants, repost the link list within a week and you’re all set.

This Week’s Picks

Bush Rides Again: Birth Control Defined as “Abortion”?

“The reason you tweak laws, redefining them or broadening their definitions, is to create the opportunity for a legal climate in which challenges may better succeed.”

First Time For Everything: A Polyamorous Relationship

“The only real trouble with being a triad came from the world around us.”

Sex Work And Compassion: Panty Tree

“I will never feel shame for being a sex worker.”

Mr. Sugasm Himself

Sugar Bank

Editor’s Choice

I Meet the Business End of Citibank’s Anti-Adult Business Policy

More Sugasm

Join the Sugasm

See also: Fleshbot’s Sex Blog Roundup each Tuesday and Friday.

(Sugasm participants should re-post all the links above within a week. The following links may be excluded as long as you include all the above links.)

Erotic Writing and Experiences

Dreams

Needs. I has them.

On Feeling June Cleaverish

Saturday Night

Strippers and race

The Sunday Squirt

Under the Covers

Whenever we’re apart…

Sex Humor

Impertinent Question: Do You Name Your Genitals?

BDSM & Fetish

Anatomy of a Mindfuck

Brutal caning punishments for school girls’ filthy behaviour

Caning; La marca del deseo.

Claire Adams Does Some Wonderful Shibari Rigging In This Scene From The Whipped-Pussy Archives

Mz Berlin (Me!) & Madison Young In Bondage Slave Training

Ring Around the Collar

Two school girls in uniform spanked and caned over the bench.

Witch Stories

Whoring Hubby Spanked – F/m Spanking Pix

Sex Advice

Ask Miss Bliss-My Girlfriend’s Using Coke And Lying About It

Controlling the Urge to Ejaculate

How To Pick A Dildo

Pull My Hair, Slap Me Around – A How-To Guide To Rough Sex, Part 1

Thoughts on Sex and Relationships

Catalina loves Masculinity

It’s been a while – lots of stuff going on!

Satine Phoenix Says, “Save thousands on therapy, go to your reunion!!?”

Wax On; Wacks Off

Sex News, Reviews & Interviews

Fetish Model Toxxxy In Cotton Panties Smearing Jam All Over Herself

FunseXXXtoys Public Baptismal

The Jollie Review For Babeland

Sex on Spout

Sgt Major Makes Jade Marxxx Beg For Pain On Backdoor Bondage

Spanking interview with Thomas S. Roche

NSFW Pics, Videos & Audio

Bedroom Radio #21: Sinclair Sexsmith of Sugarbutch.net

Elaisted is to Corset Photography what Phelps is to Swimming!

Photo Essay

Sex & Politics

The Dilemma of Jefferson: My Dissenting Voice

Friends of Jefferson, Spanking for Justice!

I now interrupt your regularly scheduled posting for a HUGE thank you for the new banner to Sinclair. It’s beautimus!

Thanks sunshine :)

-Essin’ Em

This is in response to a post on Curvaceous Dee’s blog. Basically, the question, phrases much more eloquently in her post, is why I *did* decide to be a sex blogger, as compared to any other kind of blogger, or just not one at all.

I’ve been blogging since oh…2001? I had FreeOpenDiary for a long time, until it deleted like a year worth of entries, and I said “fuck this” and moved to LiveJournal in 2004. I still have that LJ, and I write in it, posts that don’t belong here. Updates for some of my friends on my daily life, posts I want to be private to most people, posts about people I am attracted to, but who I’m not writing about on here, and who are my myspace/facebook friends, so I can’t write about on there. I use my Myspace blog too occasionally.

I like to write. When my dad died and my house burned down when I was 13, I went into hardcore emo poetry mode to try and process my feelings. I wrote all the time, but in notebooks, not online. When I did write online in journals, it was less freeform, and more what was happening in my life.

Fast forward a few (like 7) years later, when I was working for HotMoviesForHer.com. I had this column I wrote weekly, and daily movie reviews, and was in charge of the HMFH blog and blogroll. As I read over the people’s blogs from our blogroll, I thought “hmm…there isn’t anyone quite like me out there, and I could totally do this. I’m going to start a blog.” So I did, going in blindly.

My last two jobs had a lot to do with sexuality, so I had lots to write about and process, plus with my own sex life (or lack thereof) and going to grad school for sexuality, I never had a loss of what to write.

And as I wrote, I realized a few things. And have turned them into…

The Top 10 Reasons I am a Sex Blogger

1) My writing is my way of processing. The more I wrote over the past year or two, the less I had random nights of cry myself to sleep, and snapping at people when I was highly emotional. Granted, sometimes I cry as I write, but it is controllable. I think in blog posts when upsetting circumstances happen. Even if it takes me a while to actually write them, the act of thinking what I will write is processing; I figure out how I’m feeling and why, what my reactions are and why, etc.

2) I can put out what I have to say on issues that are important to me (identity, gender rights, fat politics, feminism, etc), and I can hear feedback (both positive and negative). And I can put my ideas/thoughts/theories/feelings out there to people I will never meet. And I can bounce off of other people’s ideas (quite often Sinclair Sexsmith’s, among others), creating new communities of thought that are accessible outside the world of academia.

3) I can be myself. If a reader doesn’t like my writing, and stops reading, I may never know. Much better than having someone reject me in person because they don’t like who I am.

4) I can find myself. The whole blogger community has helped me with that. So many people (Sinclair, Miss Avarice, Dylan and LadyBrettAshley to name a few) have really helped me come into my Femme identity. I don’t know if I would have reached it with out them. Ditto on going from bi –> pansexual –> queer, and realizing what my orientation really was.

5) The support. I try not to write about my “normal” life too much, but because my sexuality and normal life are so intertwined, it happens. Last March, when my grandmother died, and I was in the car accident, and my computer crashed, and my phone broke, y’all were so supportive, with emails, comments, a surprise present from Jerry and Dacia was nice enough to send me her old phone to replace mine. Where the heck else does that happen? Or with Catalina’s raffle? Etc, etc, etc. Sex bloggers are their own support system (so um, when are we going to start a sex bloggers group insurance plan? I’m not kidding!)

6)The things I learn. No offense, but I can read the “normal” news on various websites. But without sex bloggers, how would I laugh over comics that compare posion ivy to virginia creepers as bondage rope? How would I know about Kate Bornstein writing about Wall-E in a Butch/Femme context? I learn about other sexuality news stories, new toys being released, porn videos coming out, new bloggers, etc, all via our sex blogging community.

7) The re-assurance. How many places in the world are there where you can post half-nekkid pictures of yourself, and have tons of people leave positive comments? In my almost 2 years blogging, I’ve only ever gotten one negative comment on a picture. The rest have made this alternative fat Femme feel pretty fucking sexy, let me tell you.

8) The swag. It’s not why I became one, but hell, it sure is a perk. I own more sex toys than most people can even dream of. It’s amazing :) I never have trouble getting off! Just storing it…

9) Helping others. Ok, I know this sounds silly and trite…but do you know how nice it is to get the occasional email telling me how much I’ve positively influenced someone’s life? Sometimes, I’ve inspired them to come out. Other times, to learn to love their body. A few people have told me that I’ve made them re-consider their orientation/gender/identity. That is such a good feeling, knowing that something I did or said made someone else feel better! It’s like being a nurse or doctor…but mentally, and through my writing! When I see people linking to my blog with a quote (“as Essin’ Em said _____) or writing a post based on something I said (“Essin’ Em got me to thinking and ________), or the other day, when I was on AAG’s blog, and a COMMENTER said something about being an avid Essin’ Em reader…all these give me warm fuzzies. I am certainly not an expert in anything, but to know that other people not only read what I have to say, but that it makes them think, or positively impacts their life? Amazing!

10) For myself. Every now and again, I read through my old posts. I think on them, I smile on the good times, I shiver on the bad. If I’ve said I’ll do something, I follow through. I try to learn from my past, as our experiences will shape our futures. It’s an outlet for me to rant and rave and think and process and bounce ideas off of people. And it’s all documented for me to look over, to see how I’ve grown, how I continue to grow.

And those, gentle readers, are some of the many many many reasons I am a sex blogger.

Sometimes, I wonder.

Cause really? This sex thing has got me worried.

No, not my lack of sex. I mean, yes, the lack of frequency is sad for me (and possibly for you, since you don’t get to read about it), but in my mind, I’d much prefer a drought of sex than to lower my standards. And I assure you, I *do* have standards.

No, you see, what’s concerning me is the fact that all the sex I have had over the past two years has been when I’m leaving, or they’re leaving. Let’s review, shall we?

M: M was amazing, perfect, ideal sex. She’s amusing, smart, fun, cute, good in bed, wasn’t turned off by my awkwardness, wasn’t looking for anything super serious, etc. M also left 2 days after we had sex to go back to PA (cruel twist of fate, I know).

Sasha Sappho: We’ve been friends for 12 years or so, and I really wanted her to have fun at Thunder. While the scene wasn’t exactly what I had planned, it was a good emotional release for her, and I definitely had fun that weekend. However, she just left for Spain. SPAIN, y’all, SPAIN!

C: C was more connection based sex, and really satisfied the gnawing skin hunger I had. She was a very interesting person, fun, and something that I really needed. The second time we had sex was literally the night before I left Philadelphia.

K: K. Wow. K is K. He has this personality that just unravels me. All my sassiness, and any dominance that I may possibly have, is gone. I’d let him do almost anything to me (no finger breaking or razor blades, etc), and I don’t know why. I trust him, and I don’t know why. Anyways, we had sex I think about a month before I moved to Colorado.

Miss A and Dana: An adorable couple. Good practice for my flogging (circus flogging anyone?). But while I was in Florida, the night before I flew home.

Woman at Pleasure Garden: One night at a swingers club. Really good for my ego (I was called a goddess, multiple times), but not very satisfying on my part. And while we talked online once or twice, fairly obviously a one time thing.

J: Well. J and I were together for 5.5 months. But we weren’t supposed to be. Things were supposed to be over when J went back to school at the beginning of September. But we fell in love. That’s always a problem. Anyways, we had sex knowing that J would be leaving.

AC at at Dinah Shore: Let’s see…5 days in California, when I live in Philly. This was when I first started identifying as Femme, first realized that I could really enjoy sex, and that I loved being fucked. First time I actually slept through the night in a bed with someone. Balcony sex. Something like 15 orgasms in 24 hours. Good times, then I flew home.

And then there was the derby girl. Who I just saw as fun, friendly sex, and she wanted me to join her and her husband in a triad relationship. Which was not at all what I was interested in. At all. So she’s the only one that wasn’t leaving/wasn’t right before I was leaving.

So yeah. Looking at my track record, what’s wrong with me? I mean, it’s not like I only go for people who are leaving/when I’m leaving. L lives in Denver, and plans to be here for at least a year — I went for her. I liked her. I liked her in a more than just sex way. And she’s in love with her ex-girlfriend. There were people I tried to express interest in in Philly, but they just weren’t interested in me. I’m wondering if maybe I’m only attractive to other people when they know I won’t be around in the future (because one of the two of us is leaving)? Or if it’s a way of protecting myself from getting hurt somehow, or hurting someone else? I just don’t know, and would like to figure it out. Soon.

What do I want? I’d like a good friend with benefits, that lives in the same state (preferably city) as me and isn’t going anywhere for a while, who I can have interesting and intellectual conversations with, who makes me laugh and is fun to hang out with, and who has a similar sex drive. Is this really that hard to find? (hmmm…don’t answer that!)

-Essin’ Em

HNT is below. Sorry – just scroll down!

Hey folks –

So my last day at my current job is Tuesday. I am being let go due to being injured, and not being able to perform all the walking/standing/lifting/driving, etc. (I’m a contractor, so they can do that)

However, I am sadly not the daughter or partner of a millionaire, so I will need to be making more monies.

The best case scenario would be a job I can do from home, as if the doctor is right in her assumptions, I will be having surgery, or at least a very permanent plaster cast put on my leg for a few weeks. So I’d love it if you have ideas for places who might pay me to freelance, data entry jobs from home, etc. Anything like that. Everyone has suggested phone sex operating – I’m looking into it, but I think I’d laugh too hard.

However, if you know of a job in the Denver area that doesn’t involve distance walking/driving/picking up boxes, chairs and tables/standing for periods of time, I’d like to hear about it too. I’d LOVE to have a job where I can have my fire engine red hair back, but am flexible.

I have a BA in Sociology and German, and a Master’s in Human Sexuality Education.

I have experience in:
*Admin Asst
*Writing/Editing
*PR/Marketing
*Outreach Education
*Teaching
*Internet work (blogging, websites, writing, marketing, affiliate programs, etc)
*Other things

I type about 60 WPM, am good with MS office (mac and PC), blogger, wordpress, basic HTML, lotus notes, and a smattering of other programs. I’m first aid/cpr certified, and fire extinguisher trained.

If you need my resume/references/etc, let me know an email I can send them to. I can also direct you to my consulting website.

Even if it’s just a part time job – tell me. I can mush a few of those together and hopefully afford to get by.

Feel free to repost. People can contact me at essinem at gmail dot com.

Thanks in advance for your help!

-Essin’ Em

HNT is below. Sorry – just scroll down!

Hey folks –

So my last day at my current job is Tuesday. I am being let go due to being injured, and not being able to perform all the walking/standing/lifting/driving, etc. (I’m a contractor, so they can do that)

However, I am sadly not the daughter or partner of a millionaire, so I will need to be making more monies.

The best case scenario would be a job I can do from home, as if the doctor is right in her assumptions, I will be having surgery, or at least a very permanent plaster cast put on my leg for a few weeks. So I’d love it if you have ideas for places who might pay me to freelance, data entry jobs from home, etc. Anything like that. Everyone has suggested phone sex operating – I’m looking into it, but I think I’d laugh too hard.

However, if you know of a job in the Denver area that doesn’t involve distance walking/driving/picking up boxes, chairs and tables/standing for periods of time, I’d like to hear about it too. I’d LOVE to have a job where I can have my fire engine red hair back, but am flexible.

I have a BA in Sociology and German, and a Master’s in Human Sexuality Education.

I have experience in:
*Admin Asst
*Writing/Editing
*PR/Marketing
*Outreach Education
*Teaching
*Internet work (blogging, websites, writing, marketing, affiliate programs, etc)
*Other things

I type about 60 WPM, am good with MS office (mac and PC), blogger, wordpress, basic HTML, lotus notes, and a smattering of other programs. I’m first aid/cpr certified, and fire extinguisher trained.

If you need my resume/references/etc, let me know an email I can send them to. I can also direct you to my consulting website.

Even if it’s just a part time job – tell me. I can mush a few of those together and hopefully afford to get by.

Feel free to repost. People can contact me at essinem at gmail dot com.

Thanks in advance for your help!

-Essin’ Em

I hate the word panties.

This might make me unpopular, but I really just do.

I also hate the word undies.

It’s not mean if it’s true, it’s just true (so said my grad school adviser), and it’s true; while I do love underwear (collecting it, wearing it, having it dropped on the floor while I get fucked), I hate the words panties and undies.

I mean, it makes it so foofy sounding. Almost little girlish sounding. Like when you were little, and put ie or y at the end of names; Bethie, Annie, Susie. I just plain don’t like those two words.

I love lingerie of all types; negligees, bustiers, bras, robes, stockings, etc. Anything and everything. I like satin, lace, pleather, mesh, silk, and more. I never really have anyone to wear them for, so gosh darn it, I wear them for myself, or out to parties/events. I love the feel against my skin, the different textures and sensations. I like sleeping in them, reading in them, drinking tea in them, just being in them. I like boy shorts (a lot!) g-strings, regular cut and even the occasional thong, and how it feels when my jeans rub up against my underwear.

But for all that I love all of these things, I just hate panties and undies.

HHNT all!

-Essin’ Em

I am a cisgender woman.

I use that term occasionally, and I realize that some people might not know what I mean. There are lots of academic-y ways of looking at it, but the simple explanation is that the sex I was assigned at birth matches (to some degree…because there are only 2 assigned sexes, and an infinite number of genders) the gender that I identify as. I was assigned the sex of female, and I identify as a woman.

Why do *I* bother using this term? Everyone has different reasons. Mine is because I hate the way we look at sex/gender as “default” and “other.” “Normal” and “transgender.” That’s dumb. That’s like we look at male as default, and female as other, at white as default and “of color” as other. And it really gets my goat. Because I hate the idea of “normal” in every area pretty much ever.

So I am cisgender. I write a lot about trans issues because they’re important to me. I have trans friends, I’ve had trans partners, and it’s honestly one of the three big issues to me in sexuality. Gender identity, transgender rights, etc. I write on it a lot, I read on it a lot, I discuss it a lot.

Ergo, I hope I am viewed as a trans ally, although I myself am not transgender.

So what I’m about to say is going to make me look bad. I feel bad about thinking and writing it. But it needs to be said for me to feel better.

This is specifically about transmen (FTM), because that is what my experience is with.

I validate their identities. To my last breath. I ask their preferred pronouns, I like to talk with them about their identities, I spend plenty of time explaining to other that yes, they *are* men. No, it’s not a phase. Yes, gender fluidity exists. No, not every transguy has had top surgery and is on T. I view them as men (or boys, if that is their preference), no questions asked.

But I feel that when I talk about the tranguys I’ve crushed on or had sex with, I have to add trans as a qualifier, instead of just going into a post about having a crush on some guy. Because while I *am* attracted to many transguys, I am by and large NOT attracted to bio guys/XY guys. At all. So I want to add something to place a distinction between the two, both for myself, and for others.

That’s not fair to them. It’s adding trans as a qualifier for my own means. But now I know what people felt like when they talked to me about losing their queer identity, as a lesbian who was dating a man (transman) and being read as straight. Mine is more of an online queer identity, but it’s a similar thing. I have enough people who read this and assume I’m straight because they read about J (or because straight is the default, and unless it’s a post about wanting to fuck women, they just make that assumption). Add to that posts on “I met this really cute guy” or “he stuck needles in my back and fucked me” and I feel like my queer identity is slowly slipping away. Well, let me be more specific. That people stop viewing my identity as queer.

So while I view them as men, real men, true men, however you want to put it, I also am scared of how that will affect me as a queer woman in how I’m viewed. So I am not the best ally, and I add the word trans. As far as this blog, I try to only do it once, the first time I talk about the person on here. And from then on, it’s masculine pronouns, it’s “that guy I like” etc.

But I feel bad. Like I’m somehow part of the problem because of that little piece of me that wants *my* identity recognized. I mean, I use the term queer rather than lesbian, so that I’m not leaving out their identities (among other reasons)e, and then there I go, just invalidating them in a different way.

I don’t know if there is a solution. I don’t know if it makes me a bad person. But I’m sick enough of comments like “how did you fist him if he’s a guy” or “I don’t like penises that much either, but just like you, that doesn’t stop me from liking guys” or other things that assume I’m straight and that everyone I fuck is cisgender.

End guilt trip on myself. If you have any genius ideas, I’d love to hear them!

-Essin’ Em