The Little Prince and the Fox

Is it going to be sufficient for me to focus fiercely on my new job and stay in the realm of the “safe spaces” of platonic/buddy-like relationships, or is it time for another round of psychotherapy? Any maybe aimed specifically at my inability around romantic/intimate relationships? And in particular with someone who has specific knowledge of, and experience with, the queer community?

The constant trickle of rejections I’ve been experiencing, even if maybe manageable, is accumulating, the effects are adding up and undermining my confidence or emotional health, like Ovid’s water drop that hollows out the stone (“Gutta cavat lapidem”). 

I feel I’m stuck in a vicious cycle of misleading attractions and often unexpected rejections that are creating an unhealthy pattern for me and causing me recurrent pain. And I’m starting to really worry about this vicious circle, because it’s unhealthy for me, it causes pain, and I cannot seem to break it on my own. Moreover, I feel there are many cultural aspects and social biases that are making the situation worse, or harder, for me. At the end of the day, I’m still perceived as a woman who goes for younger men. And unfortunately this still is stigmatized more than other situations/relationships with age differences: homosexual relationships with big age differences are almost taken for granted; heterosexual relationships in which the man is older might be frowned upon or laughed off but are still considered “natural” or “somehow okay” or “unavoidable”; but no other situation seems to me to be so stigmatized as the “cougar”, the “predatory woman who goes for younger men”. And although I don’t look my age at all, although my friends who are a decade younger often think I’m their same age, although I have the attitude and body and energy of someone much younger, I still do have the experience of my age — and that inevitably comes out once I get closer to people. And it makes me uncomfortable. Somehow, I feel the weight of it. 

People have jokingly said to me, “You like ‘em young!?!”, or soothingly or encouragingly said that I’m “rewriting the rules”. 

I’m okay with rewriting the rules and won’t adapt or surrender to the stereotypes or molds society imposes on us — whether it’s conforming to age, gender, sexual orientation, relationship style, or any other “box”. But I need more support while doing it. I’m feeling the burden of my instinctive attraction to younger men. And I’m also feeling very concerned about how my being non-binary and coming out more and more as trans-masculine and even presenting more masculine might affect romantic/intimate relationships and complicate the scenario even more for me. 

I guess it’s time for me to seek professional help to carry this burden or to loosen it and lose it — to unravel this knot and be free, or at least lighter.

A dear friend of mine recently commented, when I was telling her about some of my recent crushes, “You have a type”; and then, a short while later, “It’s another one of these available-unavailable guys”… And to a great extent she was right. Saying that I “have a type” I fall for is quite accurate and also kind, gentle. At this point, I think one could duly say to me that I “have a pattern”, and probably even an unhealthy pattern, rather than just a “type”. 

Yes, I’ve been going for available-unavailable/mostly-unavailable guys for several years now and seem to keep going for them. 

But it’s not only that. There’s a “type” in the sense that they tend to be guys whose potential I see and with whom I can feel, and sometimes get, a taste (often extremely intense but also unreliable) of close camaraderie and connection and glimpses of shared purpose. Which finally get frustrated and aborted, though, for what could be, or seems to be, lack of willingness or readiness on their part (in this sense I go for “intrinsically unavailable” guys). 

This pattern of going for guys whose “potential” I see and with whom I feel intense connection and camaraderie and sometimes even shared purpose is — I finally see it — an attempt on my part to recreate a type of relationship I had two decades ago, with my sailing buddy who was also my first committed relationship and first really big love. 

For several years now, I’ve been trying to recreate that type of relationship, that type of bond, more or less consciously. And it’s not working. 

The three times I fell most deeply in love was when I felt I saw the potential in that guy. And in one way or another, all three of those relationships ended or didn’t even start because of the guy “not rising up fully to his potential”. Now I realize that’s such an unhealthy, biased, presumptuous, and almost mean way of seeing things on my part. What if all of those guys and all of the rest of guys of the same “type” for whom I’ve been getting crushes lately simply don’t like me as mush as I thought they did or are seeking something different from what I have/want? What if I’m really not that likable or lovable? 

Or what if this deeply-rooted longing of mine is blinding me or making me see things that aren’t really there? 

Where does this ancient longing of mine come from, and how do I assuage it in a healthy way, stopping all these multiple (big or small) heart-breaks that I keep getting?   

I’m getting closer and closer to being my whole, authentic self and better able to express it & myself unabashed; yet I seem to be getting further and further away from a healthy romantic relationship or unable to find persons who really like me as much as I like them (or as much as I think they like me). 

Why do I do this? What’s wrong with me?

I have the date for my masculinizing top-surgery: January 26th, 2023!

I was hoping it could be sooner, a month or two earlier, but on the other hand I quite like the symbolism of this particular date: in fact, I arrived in Colorado last January 26th, 2022. So somehow next January 26th feels like a good date to start another new phase of my life with a new aspect of empowerment and authenticity, leaving something behind while also starting something new for which I yearn…

In the past six months here in Colorado, I have instinctively gravitated towards two communities: rock climbers, on one hand, and non-binary/trans persons, on the other. Moreover, I have in particular been connecting with cisgender male climbers, who are often in a steady, monogamous romantic relationship, on one hand, and AFAB non-binary/trans-masculine persons who are either uninterested in dating or already dating someone else, on the other. And when I go climbing outdoors, I usually go in a group of at least three, more often 4-6, people, instead of just two of us. I am also having plenty of one-on-one time with new friends here, both with my non-binary friends and with climbing buddies; but I’ve noticed that when I’m spending one-on-one time alone with a specific climbing partner, we’re usually doing something different than an outdoor pairwise climbing session (e.g a hike or a free solo). 

Yesterday, for the first time in an extremely long time, I did an outdoor pairwise climbing session with a new climbing buddy whom I had met in a group climbing session last week. As almost all of my climbing partners here, he’s an adventurous, fun, kind, open-minded, cis-man in a steady, monogamous romantic relationship, several years younger than myself. And I’m being very open about my non-binary/trans-masculine identity. So the connection is really on the level of adventure buddies, camaraderie, with that combination of trust and recklessness, play and responsibility, that are common among climbers. 

We had a great climbing session as well as very nice conversations and then a fun, spontaneous dip into the creek in our underwear after climbing in the hot sun all day. Really a great day as buddies. 

I enjoyed the whole experience yesterday as I also really enjoyed the dip in the creek and snack and conversations with a non-binary friend on Saturday afternoon. I’m clearly aware that my connecting to cis-men climbers as buddies, on one side, or with AFAB non-binary/trans-masculine persons as platonic friends, on the other, fulfills my needs now, including the full exploration and open expression of two of the most important parts of my own identity. I’m extremely grateful for the opportunity to make these connections and in general I feel very happy and fulfilled with them. But there’s also a little melancholy after the pairwise outdoor climbing session from yesterday — maybe intensified by the phone conversation I had on Saturday night with my non-binary climbing friend from California with whom there had been some deeper, more intimate connection last winter and spring. 

The melancholy stems from a longing for deeper connection and shared purpose: something I had the fortune to experience first hand, very intensely and for a long time, in my late teens & throughout my twenties with my sailing buddy; and something I thought I might have again with two climbers in California. 

With both of those climbers in California, separately and in different moments, I rationally understood that I couldn’t get that profound connection or shared purpose that I long for, that reminded me of what I had with my sailing buddy. That rational realization was sufficient to keep me moving on towards my own dreams and life goals in a safe and/or healthy way. But there’s still some pain or sense of loss deep down inside me somewhere of which I am reminded in situations like yesterday’s. 

It’s OK. But it’s also a clear reminder, and even an explanation, of why I’m connecting to certain people only in certain ways now: not only because those particular types of person resonate with important parts of my own identity, but also because they feel safe. Safe because they understand me and accept and like me just as I am. But also, and maybe most importantly for me now, safe because we are a priori setting some very definite boundaries, even without speaking them aloud, to not get too close, because there’s no romantic or sexual interest on other side. 

So I feel safe from harm, safe from another heart-break that I really don’t want to have to deal with now.

Walking in downtown with one of my closest non-binary/trans-masculine friends last night we had one of our best queer-affirming moments. Not just gender-affirming, but more generally queer-affirming as in challenging the status quo of several normativities — gender, sexual orientation, type of relationship. 

This person is, like me, AFAB non-binary more masculine-presenting (for now). They have been on HRT for longer than myself and already had top-surgery. Our friendship is only platonic, there’s definitely no sexual attraction or interest between us, but we feel comfortable with each other so we tend to be touchy-feely with each other and have a very affectionate and camaraderie attitude between us even in public — to the point that more than once people on the street (usually men) have asked us, “Are you guys together?” — whatever do they care?!? 

As we came out of the chocolate shop last night, a very cis-heteronormative couple looked at us with puzzled expressions on their faces and then looked at each other as if hoping their partner might have figured it out and then looked at us again, trying to figure us out, as if trying to find the “box” in which to put us — and it was just hilarious! And so empowering and liberating! 

We were definitely very evidently queer: both of us presenting partly feminine and partly masculine, both in our clothing and in our bodies; both of us with non-binary voices that cannot be fully placed as masculine or feminine; and with this behavior or body-language between us that could be “just close friends” or a “couple” or whatever other type of close, comfortable and somewhat intimate relationship. 

There’s no box. Neither for our genders nor for our gender-expressions nor for our sexual orientations nor for our relationship styles — nothing fitting into the common normativities that we’re usually brought up with. 

And playing with all this — dressing in a feminine way, for instance, while exhibiting a strong masculine upper-body and a deep, almost male voice — feels so good, and even better when one can share it and play together with a friend and challenge people around us. Challenge society, challenge these fixed thoughts and pre-assigned boxes that are given to us and in which we try to stick everything and everyone and every body. 

Go ahead, try to find a box! There’s no box!

When I first started attending some online gender support groups for non-cis persons I was sometimes irritated by some trans-men and trans-women who claimed that being non-binary is often just a temporary phase towards “transitioning” fully to the other gender. This bothered me both from the point of view of principle because it seemed to reinforce a binary view of the world which I profoundly refuse to accept — and always have — and also from a personal viewpoint because it felt invalidating to my own experience. 

I still believe those claims to be wrong because they’re fundamentally a generalization, applying some personal experiences (which are completely valid as far as those persons are concerned) to the rest of people — which I find to be very tricky, often even dangerous and/or wrong. 

However, I do agree on one point, which is common to all non-binary/trans experiences I’ve been hearing and to many personal/human experiences overall: that all these experiences are processes that evolve and can change over time. 

My own gender experience has been evolving immensely over the past year and a half and in a particularly fast and liberated way over the past six months or so, gaining speed as I feel more and more myself, leading me to have feelings or viewpoints and to make decisions for myself that I would never have imagined possible only a year or six months ago. And recently my own gender perception has been changing even more rapidly as if under the push of a strong acceleration. 

When I hear stories of trans youth who are being supported in their gender identity, in the choice of their own pronouns and gender expression and even with name change already in their childhood or teenage years, I feel a surge of emotions: of course, I instantly feel happiness for them and the instinct to support and encourage them as well, even if from afar; I feel relief and optimism and gratitude for these corners of the world and this society that has evolved and improved and become more accepting and inclusive and open-minded, and maybe also wiser and kinder; but I also feel a profound, intense sadness to the point of often being moved to tears. Sadness for me: not for the adult me now who is enjoying their full gender identity and being able to express it and have it often accepted, recognized, respected and even loved; but for the child me who didn’t have that support or recognition or love. I end up crying for that little boy who suffered for decades. That little boy who wasn’t allowed to be. 

I’m AFAB. I have been using “they” pronouns for a year now and identify as non-binary/trans-masculine and mostly feel like I’m a boy, but I also feel profoundly involved in feministic themes and affected literally at a visceral level when it comes to abortion and reproductive rights. 

Recently, when I was in California to complete my move from there to here, I was able to have the two meetings I was hoping for the most, with the two young men to whom I really wanted to show my full non-binary/trans-masculine identity, to whom I wanted to say “I’m a boy!” 

After the meeting and “coming out” with the first one, for the next couple of days I could hardly stop thinking “I wish I were a boy” with a deep longing that was tearing me apart, almost physically making my chest ache. And I instinctively increased my dose of testosterone (still micro-dosing) because of this strong desire to speed up the process of masculinization of my body to align it with my own internal gender identity faster — the longing was almost unbearable. 

When I “came out” to the other one, he asked me if I was at this point using “he” pronouns instead of “they” pronouns. I replied that I’m still sing “they” pronouns, and that for the moment I think I might always use non-binary pronouns (despite using the masculine for myself in some languages/grammatical instances) because I was brought up and treated as a girl/woman for so long that I feel I cannot renounce that part of me. And when he said, “You look great and more like yourself than I’ve ever seen you”, I again felt a mix of strong and opposite emotions: happiness, on the one hand, because I do feel more like myself than I ever have and I finally love my body and identify with it more closely; but I also felt intense, almost sharp sadness and teared up, and I found myself saying, without even realizing it, instinctively: “I wish I had been born a boy. I wish I had been born male. No matter what I do, no matter how far I take this medical ‘transitioning’, I will never be like you because after all I was brought up like a girl, I was treated like a woman for so long: that conditioning is extremely deep and probably irreversible”. 

So many memories of my childhood and youth are coming back to me, almost like a flooding river, lately, about my transgender identity manifesting itself at the youngest age. I have only one sibling, a sister who’s a couple years younger than myself, and we were always treated like a “pair”, like we had to be the same or always together — the “two beautiful little girls”. I hated it. I felt suffocated, with no space to be me. But it went even further than that: I often found myself thinking, and sometimes even saying aloud, that I could be the son that my father had never had. And when as teenagers my sister sometimes said she wished she had an older brother, my spontaneous reply would be, “I’m your older brother!” 

How could it have been more explicit than that? How can I not grieve for that little boy, for that teenage boy who was not allowed to be? 

I might use “they” pronouns for the rest of my life and stay mostly with a non-binary gender identity. But I’m also starting to think, more and more often, that maybe if I hadn’t been socialized as a female, i.e. if I hadn’t been brought up as a girl and then treated as a woman for so many years, my gender identity would be quite different and much more masculine. If I had been supported in my transgender identity earlier on, I think I might have become a man. Still a non-gender-conforming man, and very probably a gay man, and definitely just as unconventional and non-conforming as I am now and always have been. But probably my gender identity would have been more pronouncedly masculine.

And maybe the reason I’m feeling, and seeing myself, as a boy (instead of a man) now, despite being fully adult in age, is that I wasn’t allowed to be a boy when I needed to be one, in my youth, and I need to make up for that time, for those experiences, for those feelings now. 

In four or five months I might actually have the upper-body that I have always wanted — more than that, the upper-body that I have always seen for myself and identified with. 

This morning, I met the surgeon who will most likely do the masculinizing mastectomy for me in the new year. 

I’m still trying to adjust to this… to the idea that I might actually NOT have to spend the rest of my life feeling dysphoric about my upper-body, that I might NOT actually have to put up with a torso I don’t identify with… It’s good news, it’s wonderful news, but it still takes some readjusting… Our brains are weird things, they can get used to so much, even so many toxic things, and then dislodging them from that can be hard, even when it’s good… 

I’m slowly, slowly, slowly becoming myself more wholly and this is wonderful but also very scary in some ways…  

[Trigger alert: explicit description of some symptoms of the menstrual period.]

We need a category for non-binary athletes to race in, if they wish to (of course, without forcing anyone to be outed). We need it now — we’ve been waiting too long already. 

Three days ago, the bleeding from my uterus was so abundant and uncomfortable that it felt like my whole belly was gushing out of my body. 

Yesterday & today I was running on the trails at a pace that hasn’t been so fast and almost effortless in a very ling time — maybe years.   

My recently heightened athletic performance is not new to me: I went through something similar three or four years ago, so even now it’s probably due simply to decreased stress and renewed energy, which could also explain why I’m looking so much younger (people keep telling me that I look like a person in their twenties). 

But some might think it’s due to HRT.

I refuse to compete in the “male” category for my next race. I’m not a male. I still have breasts; I have a uterus that every 3-4 weeks regularly makes itself uncomfortably noticed and I loose a lot of blood for several days; my fat distribution is still much closer to that of a “biological” female; and for at least 25 years (since my female puberty) my body has been conditioned as a female body. 

HRT doesn’t automatically make me a “male”, all of a sudden, after 25 years of having been a “biological” female adult, especially not with the micro-dosing that I am doing. HRT is tricky and hard on the body: taking testosterone doesn’t all of a sudden turn a female body into a male one. The “battle of the giants” between different hormones, and maybe even a mismatch between the additional hormones with the given organs/genes, is real and draining. 

I will probably never be able to compete fairly in a “male” category. But it might get to the point where it could be unfair for me to compete against other females, too. That point hasn’t been reached, yet, but it might come soon enough. 

Either way, a non-binary category is what is needed here, for fairness towards everyone & every body.

Yesterday I saw two friends, spending the whole afternoon and evening in my favorite town here in Colorado. 

Yesterday I found myself again — my innate energy, my liveliness, the reasons I decided to move here, the connections to people and places here. 

Part of it was certainly hormonal, the “battle of the giants” finally giving me a reprieve after two days of the worst clash I’ve experienced until now between PMS & HRT. 

But a great part was also due to the people and places I saw yesterday. 

All of it simply reminded me of why I decided to move here in the first place, why I feel so spontaneously at home, like I “fit”, that I really “belong” here more than anywhere else. 

One of the things that had really thrown me off on my return from California last week was the sudden, concrete, almost hard realization that I’m seriously here to stay now, at least for the next two years. That the six-month period of taking a break, thinking things over, recovering, working on my own self and my own textbook project, that whole parenthesis is over. Now real life here starts. Now I’m really staying, I’m really not going back. The “California door” is really shut, at least for a while, I’ve really turned my back on it for now and need to face this other way. This realization together with some forced solitude and the hormonal clashes was really tough and led me to see/feel the losses more than the gains or achievements or joys or simply even the freedom of my choices. 

All of these positive aspects came back to me clearly yesterday, as I hung out with two friends, separately. 

The first is a new climbing buddy who had to cancel our climbing plans for yesterday morning because of a sudden injury. But that didn’t mean we canceled seeing each other: we still hung out and since he needed full rest/recovery, we went swimming in the creek and just hung out with the explicit intention of getting to know each other better, to just spend time together as people to built a connection and friendship and trust — which are helpful when climbing together but also went beyond climbing, just as persons. This type of attitude was normal and natural for me in Europe but hard to come by where I was living in California, so finding it again here (I am finding it quite often and easily) is refreshing and heart-warming. 

The other is, at this point, one of my closest friends here, another non-binary/trans-masculine person with whom hanging out and talking is always a wonderful pleasure — fun and profound at the same time. 

Just being and talking with these two people yesterday, who in many ways are very different from each other, filled me with joy and good reminders of why I like it here, why I feel so easily at home here: because I keep meeting people who moved here to climb, to enjoy the mountains, to enjoy community, to start a new life, to give themselves a second (or third, or fourth) chance. Persons whose primary values are other people, community, enjoying the outdoors and connecting to nature, not making money or seeking mainly professional success. I don’t mean the latter are unnecessary or bad — it’s just that I found too much focus on the latter from people in the area where I was living in California to the detriment of sincere, spontaneous human relationships and true connections to nature. 

The conversations with my two friends yesterday were also good reminders of many lesson learned and, in particular, of how all those years with the “wrong” partner in Europe were not wasted on me: I really learned to instinctively stay away from relationships that could limit my authenticity, which includes exploring. I realized that despite some very deep crushes in the past years in California, I always subconsciously, instinctively stayed away or broke away from persons who are too “static”, too tied to one place to be compatible with me and my desire to roam. Despite resulting in some tough heart-breaks, it has served me well, after all, because here I am now: not completely settled, yet, and still anxious about my new job, but definitely happier than I’ve been in a long time, feeling more like myself than ever, and very visibly glowing from the inside out.

I was just texting one of my best friends here in Colorado about how lonely I’m feeling this weekend and they asked if it’s “people withdrawal”. 

Yes, I guess it is, at least partly — and such a great way of expressing it! 

Moving isn’t easy. It’s actually freaking hard. And what is hitting me now is the weight of the losses, of what has ended — those six years in California, with all their ups and downs, but also the bulk of my textbook project. 

For the past months, and especially over the past three weeks, I have been hyperstimulated, mostly in positive, fulfilling ways, by people and activities and things that needed to be done urgently. 

All of that is suddenly gone — or, at least, that’s how it feels to me today. I know it’s not really gone — I still have good friends both here and elsewhere, I still have important things to get done. But this weekend is a lonely, quiet one: one where I’m wishing I could have the company of close friends, even just to go and watch the meteor shower together tonight, instead of being on my own, contemplating all that I’ve left behind.