A Eunuch's Love Life

The more personally intimate blog of the love life of an androgynous but not sexless eunuch in this post-modern world

Friday, April 28, 2006

The Angel Norrie

I was just posted this photo from the Easter Sunday demo at Kirribilly against immigration detention. The photographer kindly titled it "The Angel Norrie". I'll take that, thanks.

Thursday, April 27, 2006



Yesterday I looked at my pussycat and realised that even if I am a freak, cut off from the sexual possibilities of men and women, God loves me even more than I love my outrageously breathtakingly beautiful pussycat.

This morning I pictured myself as being supported by and connected to and part of a web, the web that is woven reality, always connnected, never separate, however much I am caught in the illusion of separateness, always connected by time and confluence and so many unseen and intangible but ultimately indissoluble and unseverable ways.

And HoorAY! My best friend just came back from Europe, and I'm so happy!

We saw V again, and bounced through the Hyde park exhibition, the museum in the Domain, and Botanic gardens.

And for the last two nights we watched ABC TV together, not only nerds into the 7:30 Report, but geeks into The Inventors and Catalyst.

His boyfriend will be back from Eurpope soon, but I'm enjoying this while it lasts. It's a bit like my pussycat, who loves me enormously when I've been away, but generally ignores me. My friend is much more attentive than that, though. Gosh, he's even better than my pussycat!

Wednesday, April 19, 2006

Touch is not a daily need

Touch is not a daily need.

All my daily needs are met each day.

It's in the most famous (English) prayer; "Give us each day our daily requirements."

So, if this affirmation is correct (or, seen from a positive persepective) I don't need to be touched on any given day, because I am not.

And strangely enough, when I don't think about the lack of touch, I'm okay.

When I beat myself up with other people's standards, I'm VERY not okay.

And I'm so very tired of trying so hard, and tired of the overwhelming dissappointment that is the only result of my amorous endeavours unless, God bless, I get lucky, and the disappointment is only a small one (cos, at least I got touched, however lacking in quality, and truth to say, it is so lacking in quality that I really can't be bothered anymore). Maybe if I try so much for so little result, God is trying to tell me something. Not something nasty, like I'm unloveable, for that's just crap, and God doesn't do shoddy work. But maybe I don't need to get touched much. There is a difference between want and need.

I am blessed with a lot in this life, and if I discount the touch issue, my life attributes compare very favourably with most people's, I reckon.

A girl who once had ulterior motives told me that everyone needs to be hugged twice a day, and I believed her. And ever since I've sort of nagged myself for not getting those hugs. And felt shortchanged at not getting touched. And put up with a lot of boredom and chlorine and bad music and exhaustion and rejection for the sake of a touch that usually didn't happen.

And yet, when not obsessing about what I haven't got, I'm very happy with my lot in life. VERY happy. (Practically gay!)

There's not much chance I'll be touched today, or in the foreseeable future, but I choose to believe I'm okay today, that I can be okay even if I don't get some regimented two hugs today or any other day. I don't want to feel bad about something I haven't got. I want to enjoy what I have.

I'm okay today, all day, and all my daily needs are met each day. And I'm not here to live anyone's life but my own, and even though touch is largely absent, other things fill my life with an abundance of rich experience and joy.

I want to appreciate this more, without thoughts about what I haven't got being a distraction. I don't need them.

Tuesday, April 04, 2006

Happy Eunuch Birthday

The sex change operation was exactly seventeen years ago yesterday, so now my pussy is old enough to drive ; )

The local kids commemorated the occasion by calling out "trany trany", trying to spit on me, and harassing me on my way to and from yoga class at the community centre across the road. I just made it inside and got the door closed as they came in for the kill. Transsexuals are murdered by groups of kids like that, with monotonous regularity. I was so terrified I collapsed on the floor in a foetal pose, letting my breathing go, and letting it slowly return from stark terror."Vengeance is Mine, sayeth the Lord", and they are pretty much guaranteed short miserable sick lives (pretty much inevitable for a disadvantaged black kid on the block without enough adult-care or self-respect to not abuse an innocent adult) no matter what I do, so I won't take it personally. But I do have less sympathy for the evil little pustules.

I sat up from the floor, saying"This will not kill me. I will not die here. This will not kill me,"Martha Washington's mantra (from Give Me Liberty, the graphic novel series by Frank Miller). Standing up, I resolved to live my life true to myself, and to never act from fear of murderous children, thugs with guns, or any other gang or bully. They will not kill me, they will not stop me from living my life as I see fit.

Well, sure, they can kill my body, but they can never kill me. And my body may react with fear, but my spirit is uncowed, and rising defiant. Freedom LIVES!