I’m sitting on the couch laughing, soaking in all the good vibes and affection from my friends who’ve come over to celebrate my birthday. There’s about a dozen of us and, apart from my two transmasc friends and one of my buddies’ fiancé (a cis woman), it’s a bunch of straight guys. These are my closest friends: a bunch of straight men.
Considering all of my closest friendships, I do have a few very good friends who are not cis-het men: two or three very close women friends and a small handful of queer/nonbinary/trans friends. But the vast majority of the people I’ve been surrounding myself with over the past decade, and especially since moving out here to Colorado, has been straight men. And I’ve been doing it instinctively, almost automatically, like following an inner compass.
Part of this is simply due to my preference for activities that tend to be male-dominated (STEM, sailing, motorcycle riding, climbing) so it’s statistically easier for me to meet men in the environments where I spend most of my time.
On the other hand, there’s also a part that is certainly due to my own gender identity & gender journey: connecting with cis men, being accepted and treated by them just “as one of them”, has been an important way for me to get the validations I needed as a transmasc person and a fundamental part of my self discovery, self definition, and healing from years of misgendering and gaslighting. Moreover, as I’ve been coming into myself and unfolding as an aro-ace transmasc gay guy, in a phase where non-platonic relationships were not the priority for me, connecting with straight men was (or felt) “safe” for me: I’m a guy and they’re straight men so they won’t be attracted to me; I’m aro-ace so I won’t inherently be attracted to them, either; therefore, our platonic friendships are safe, iron-clad.
This has served me for several years. It’s what I needed. But now it might not be serving me well anymore, it might have gone too far. Now, it feels like my own heart has become iron-clad.
I have built a fortress around myself, around my heart.
At the end of a weekend of bonding on a climbing & camping trip, I drop off my buddy at his place and we give each other a hug goodbye. He’s a hugger, it’s not one of those perfunctory “man hugs”, it’s a solid hug full of affection. We’re like brothers and as we hug I can feel the affection he’s giving me, that intense brotherly love that he’s unable to express in words but can give me with this gesture, that intense platonic love that I so badly need. I need it so much that I cannot endure it and I break the brotherly embrace almost abruptly.
I need and yearn for intimacy, closeness, deeper connection and brotherhood; in some cases even physical touch, snuggles, cuddles, sex. And yet I’ve done all I can to eradicate the possibility of getting any of it at the level that I would really need. I’ve done this by surrounding myself with people who cannot really give me the intimacy or availability that I need, or by pushing away what affection or closeness is offered to me.
What started out as self-definition and self-defense has turned into self-sabotage.
The Little Prince and the Fox 