In my journey getting in touch with my gender identity and sexual identity I’ve learned a lot. Two summers ago I “came out” as non-binary and asked that people use “they/them/theirs” as my pronouns. It took me a long time to come to the decision to make it part of my public identity. Owning that has been revelatory. It has helped me decipher how I privately feel about my presentation and my body. I’ve become more aware of my internal attitudes regarding how I interact with myself and my partners sexually. I have been able to look back over my feelings about my gender and sexuality in the past in a new lens, and explore more aspects of my sexuality. It has allowed me to be more sure of myself in a lot of ways.
I’ve become aware of cycles in my gender and sexuality. The spectrum allows for infinite permutations of this combo. I have had long periods of time on either end far from the center of the spectrums, as well as sitting right in the center sometimes. When I was pregnant and for a year or so after, it was the most femme I have ever felt in my life, I can only pinpoint a couple other moments like that- just out of school, and a little while during my junior year of highschool. Most of the time I’m pretty center on the gender spectrum. Most recently, my gender cycle has swung hard masc, while my sexuality cycle has swung masc attracted as well. I find that funny because I was sitting on the other end of that spectrum for months before this current swing. I wanted nothing to do with the cis het male.
So here I am, gay for guys in a femme body for the moment. It’s hard for a male partner to remember that your female parts might not want attention, and that they aren’t dealing with a “woman”. I get it, tits are amazing. The parts of my body that can be seen are visually inviting, but sometimes I feel the invisible self, parts that can’t be seen except by me. They want attention, the parts that can’t be touched if I’m not wearing a prosthetic. The parts that are seen wish to be forgotten for the moment. I often wonder what the difference in interaction would be if they could see my masc self like I feel him. I’m often surprised when my female parts wake up in the middle of a session where I’ve begun by feeling my more male self, it can be like a light switch, because our bodies do strange things sometimes, huh?
What happens in our heads can be so different from the physical experience of sex. It can be completely different than our partner’s perceptions of what’s going on, what is making us respond to them. He feels me grinding against his behind, and knows I’m enjoying myself. He doesn’t feel the ghost of my cock riding between his thighs that I’m feeling. He feels me carefully rubbing my clit against his anus, but he doesn’t feel me carefully popping past his sphincter, as I do in my head. I’m almost able to summon the way it must feel. He may or may not know that I’m feeling these things. Depends on if I let him know, maybe he can tell sometimes.
Beyond the hot wet physical imagination, I wish to feel the unique way two men could interact. I long to have my partner genuinely feel my masculinity and want it for what it is. I occasionally think we achieve that, for small gorgeous moments.
Gender is a feeling, intangible because most people define it by what someone else says defines it, unless you throw that out. Sex is intangible due to the myriad ways human genitals can configure themselves. Sexual intercourse can be literally anything you want it to be between two consenting adults if it fills that need. I consider sending nudies a form of sex if it’s someone I’m having a relationship with.
Despite all that ambiguity, if I had to label it, at the moment, I’m gay for guys.
Post Script – I love being fluid, It’s such a trip. This was written pre-pandemic. If I had to pinpoint where I am right now I am queer for queers. Heyyyy, queers!
If you’d like to get in contact with Lizzy Livewire you can do so by: