Once a week, Daily Intel looks behind doors left slightly ajar. This week: The Female-to-Male Pre-Op Transsexual, 28, male, Brooklyn, queer, in a long-term, sometimes-open, relationship with a woman.
9 a.m.: Wake up, think about jerking off. Nah, too hung-over. Rather loll around bed for a while anyway. Been working too much lately anyway; never get to do this anymore.
1 p.m.: Biking to work. There are a lot of good-looking women as I bike down Fulton Street. Try not to stare at boobs, as I am basically a 15-year-old boy. I’m still learning this. I have been on hormones for two and a half years, and am transitioning, female-to-male. I am fully passing, and pre-op. Being on testosterone has made me a much more, um, visual person.
3 p.m.: Trying desperately to get some work done in the real-estate career I’m trying to build, only to be distracted by a not-even-that-sexy picture of the cast of Hair naked. You can’t see anything. How does anyone get anything done? Mystery.
DAY ONE (cont.)
4:05 p.m.: No one in office, quick jerk-off to porn. I don’t care what my friend says, XTube is way better than PornHub.
5:05 p.m.: Somewhat shocked at the lewdness on the talk boards on Yelp today. The “How to get in my pants” thread makes me wonder if people forget that anyone can read what they’re writing.
10:30 p.m.: Realize I’m overdue for my T shot (testosterone) because libido and energy are both down.
11:30 p.m.: Start talking with gf about how when we get our own place we’ll have sex all over the apartment, with emphasis on the kitchen. We’ve been together for four and a half years, and she’s fully supportive. We start canoodling, and I tell her I’m not in the mood. She seduces me in about a minute.
12:30 a.m.: Both satisfied, asleep.
7:30 a.m.: Cannot … wake … up. Late-night overdue sex equivalent to late-night bong hits. Snooze.
8:45 a.m.: Consider jerking off, late for work, never mind.
3:45 p.m.: Give very hot, very nice girl at coffee shop a ridiculous tip for an overpriced lemonade.
4:25 p.m.: While Google-searching “drunken picnic” in reference to a party I’m going to later in the week, come across porn. Get lost in a porn maze for ten minutes until I come across a site Norton declares unsafe. Sigh.
6:30 p.m.: No one in office, make plans with friend for “after I finish watching porn.” He thanks me for giving him the idea. I’m not out as trans to most people who didn’t know me before hormones, but my male friends who know are great, and I don’t know what I’d do without them. My best friends are straight dudes. We like football, beer.
6:48 p.m.: Quick jerk-off got delayed because video I was watching ended with the guy taking off the girl’s shoe and fucking her with the heel. Ugh. Ow. Feet people are so weird.
8 p.m.: Out at a bar, discussion with friends about how weird feet people are. Consensus reached immediately. Shush idiot friend for talking loudly about his preference for disgusting porn; I KNOW he sounds creepy to the women around us.
8:30 a.m.: Awaken to cuddling and kissing. Fun, no time for sex though. Work work worky work. I work about 55 hours a week, and my girlfriend’s working about 60 these days. We’re in the trenches, you know. Hopefully one day … we’ll get to relax more. Or at least go on vacation.
4:18 p.m.: Try to watch porn and have a quick jerk before going out to meet friends. Not in the mood, apparently.
Midnight: Friend is trying to hit on a woman again. Wouldn’t be such an issue if we didn’t all think/know he’s gay. Mystified by how someone can live like that for so long. I wasn’t able. And I tried.
2 a.m.: Pass couple making out on the sidewalk in dark area, eyes closed. Aren’t they afraid of getting mugged? Just closing their eyes willy-nilly? Kinda hot though. Imagine it must be a new couple.
11 a.m.: Saturday. Hang out and walk around with friend all day and play One Zero, where you guess how many beers you’d need to sleep with the women passing by. More just a reason to talk about sex and women; we both agree we’d sleep with at least 50 percent of them sober.
10:45 p.m.: Out with single friend who would very much like to be dating. He declares he’s going outside to meet women on the patio. I peek outside; he’s talking to two married women. It’s a start.
2 p.m.: A female acquaintance points out a cute dog and suggests I say hello. I say, “hey there, good-looking,” and the acquaintance tells me not to be creepy. Really? I always think that growing up biologically female, having to be around women in dorms, locker rooms, etc. would let me act in ways that many biological men can’t get away with. I’m finding more and more that it doesn’t.
11 p.m.: Find girlfriend’s vibrator in the bed and feel inadequate, albeit briefly. Think about how desperately we need a vacation.
9 a.m.: A tall, fit woman passes me on her bike. I HATE when ANYONE passes me whilst bike-riding. Feel illogically emasculated.
7:30 p.m.: Still at work. Feeling wound up, no one around, quick jerk-off to YouPorn. Not as good as XTube but the videos are longer.
11:30 p.m.: Girlfriend tries to initiate sex. I’m tired and feeling stressed; not into it.
11:45 p.m.: Very long conversation ensues, complete with tears, about how each of us is doing lately. Girlfriend thinks we should do more projects together as a couple. I wish there were an eighth day of the week.
12:30 p.m.:Kissing and cuddling ensues, but then we pass out. Fail.
11 a.m.: Decide to jerk off less. Might as well save up any extra energy I have for sex with my girlfriend.
2 p.m.: On Craigslist putting an ad up for work, decide to check out m4m section. When I first began hormones I began wanting to hook up with guys for the first time in my life. My girlfriend, being as wonderful as she is, let me do it (on her terms) and I began a months-long pattern of hooking up with guys. It actually brought us closer together because we trusted each other and it worked. I’m essentially past that phase now, but I still like to look at pictures of penises sometimes. Sure wish I had one.
5:15 p.m.: Hanging out with friend from out of town, a trans guy who is beginning transition, pre-hormones. Occasionally get his pronouns wrong and feel like an asshole.
6 p.m.: Discuss our penis packers and the times when they drop on the bathroom floor (sucks), and what he can expect (increased libido, hair, acne, looking like a 15-year-old, etc.). I don’t have many trans friends, and wish I did sometimes. I don’t relate as well to the super-queer fixed-gear artsy trannies I meet, and the rest are invisible, like me.
TOTALS: Two acts of masturbation; four aborted acts of masturbation for reasons of time pressure or unfortunate porn plot; one act of sex with girlfriend; one rejected offer of sex from girlfriend; one emotional crying session with girlfriend about hamster-wheel work schedules and lack of time for intimacy and bonding.