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

Tuesday, June 27, 2006

Coming Out As A Eunuch

A very interesting article by a previously "normal" heterosexual man, who became a eunuch by virtue of a standard treatment for prostate cancer, and honestly shares the changes in his experiences, perspectives and attractions.

Obviously every individual varies, and I can't vouch for the increasing bisexual attraction he writes of. Of course it's possible I just have a self-limiting program that prevents me from being interested in pursuing any sexual attraction to women (who generally are much more sexually responsive to my presence than men, who seem universally fixated on a limited range of sexual types that does not include me). Anyway, he has an interesting take on his shifting hormonal perspective on sexuality and human interaction.

Anyway, he's copyrighted it and so on, so I won't paste it here, and instead I just direct you to

http://www.cancer.prostate-help.org/caeunuc.htm

By the way, I'm on the sixth day of doing the sixth Tibetan rite. My sexual urge is being a bit surprisingly strong, but I'm managed to redirect my thoughts away from tears all last night and this morning, and my energies are not so much focussed on any other person (or the lack of any other person), but rather are energies that move internally, that I can draw up and control, rather than be hopelessly overwhelmed by.

Monday, June 26, 2006

Gender mismatch and "When love goes wrong."

I just found this essay, written in November 2002, shortly after I had split with my last boyfriend, when I was more optimistic about my romantic chances than I have been of late. It was inspired by the title of a forum, "When loves goes wrong."
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"When loves goes wrong." Something about genderfluidity... boy meets boygirl.. transperson meets boy, girl, tranny meets anyone, love goes wrong. Or, as the directions they gave to me put it, "when gender becomes fluid, the path to true love becomes slippery."

Slippery.

Well, yes, that's I thought too, maybe it's a lube joke, you know, path to true love, slippery, ho, ho, ho.

Oh, obviously, there's the assumption that love will go wrong whenever the nature of the gender or gender expression of one or either partner is enough to possibly challenge the gender expectations either partner has of themselves and/ or each other... But isn't that every relationship really? Negotiating roles, splitting up tasks, and sometimes compromising one's druthers for the sake of each other? Learning that we aren't quite like what we thought we were? Maybe finding out we're more like our parents that we'd have thought humanly (or humanely) possible?

But that's the nature of a relationship; It teaches more about ourselves, and so a close domestic or romantic relationship will reveal genderfluidity to us. We learn who we are in relation to the other, and negotiate this, perhaps subtly changing to meet the other's expectations or needs, fitting in together in a dance of Yin and Yang.

Who's washing the dishes tonight? Who takes out the garbage? Who changes the sheets?

Who's turn is it to initiate sex? To get the condoms? To fetch the tissues?

In some couples these roles are set, and in some, those tasks, those roles associated with gender, are interchangeable. And they often change with age.

Two bottoms in a bed is only a disaster for the unimaginative. Like the stupid queen who said "I don't understand lesbians. How do they fuck?"



It’s not gender that stops these people experiencing love, it’s lack of imagination.

Gender is a relationship, and we are constantly renegotiating relationships, even if we are just reaffirming our expectations. If you're in a relationship with another consenting adult, then there is a Yin and a Yang, a shifting give and take, I'll take charge of this, you take care of that, I'll play mother, you play daddy, whose turn to cut the roast?

So, what is this about,"when gender turns fluid, love goes wrong". Well, maybe in the fanciful imagination of some transphobe, and but that's about it really, unless we are confusing infatuation with love, perhaps.

Love is not pfft.

It's the most powerful force imaginable to human drive and motivation, it's the glue of human society, it's why we got presents every Christmas as a child, it's why we clean the cat tray, it's why we were out till 7AM at the Taxi Club. In search of it, or in despair of it, or to drown the guilt we feel because of it.

Put your cynicism aside for a moment. Let go of your fear of being vulnerable for just a second. Feel your heart beat. Go on, take your right hand, place it over your heart, and feel it beat. Take a breath in, feeling your heart beat. Let the breath go back out, feeling your heart beat. Breath in and let a smile come, if you feel like it.

There's something wonderful, something magical, about the energy, power or force that makes your heart beat.

That's love.

It's not pfft.

It's the most powerful force in human affairs, and it's not going to "go wrong" just because one partner's pre-existing script is not exactly the same as the real life relationship. I mean, if that is what causes love to go wrong, that wasn't love. It was pfft. Infatuation. Romantic love, not true till-the-end-of-time love.

Sure, romantic love goes wrong for transmen, goes wrong if it's two butches, loves goes wrong for men and women and genderfucking angels all the time, but it's not because of anyone's gender or gender role; It's for the same reasons romantic love goes wrong for any of us.

I couldn't stand his drinking. She couldn't stand my cigarette breath. His politics are just fucked, man. She slept with my sister, dammit. He doesn't love me anymore. You keep interrupting me. He keeps interrupting the Simpsons. We've got nothing in common. I need some time to myself. She's changed too much. He blew the rent, again. I just don't think this is working. It makes her feel bad more than it makes her feel good. The things I like about him, I REALLY like, but the things I can't stand, I REALLY can't stand.

Oh sure, sometimes one partner makes out it's because of the one’s gender. One boyfriend broke up with me because he didn't want his parents working out I was a pre-op tranny girl, but it was OK for his gay flatmate to keep sucking him off because that was secret. But that wasn't about MY gender, it was about HIS expectations, sense of identity, and fear and self loathing. And it wasn't love, it was just expectations about what love should look like. Two sets of expectations that failed to meet.

And then there was the boy who saw me through my sex change, and dumped me before I was allowed to use it. So, was it because maybe the little bit extra had been that important to him? Or, was it because he realised out I had fallen in love with him only after and because he had cared for me through the medical recovery? He didn't break up with me because I'd lost my willy, he broke up with me because his feelings were hurt.

And I've lost trade because they didn't expect me to be a tranny, or affairs have ended when my trans nature became known. But these affairs weren't love. They were desperate attempts to feel love, fear of loneliness, or just the sort of horniness that wears off in twelve hours.

I mean, that can be fun, but it's not love.

Or in longer affairs I've put up with shit because who else would love a tranny like me, and then the shit got too much to put up with, or I dared to raise my expectations of what I deserved. These relationships didn't end because of my gender, they ended because my needs and expectations shifted.

I'm sure it wouldn't take too much effort for me to look back on my relationship disasters with the back of my hand plastered to my forehead, oh it was because I'm a tranny, oh it was because I wasn't a real woman, oh it was because I wasn't busty enough, because I can't have children, oh woe is me. Anyone who's been called too short or too bookish or too vivacious or too different; Well, we can all play victim, and blame our circumstances for our unhappiness. But at least in my case, it was only because I was choosing lousy partners, people who could help me recreate how I felt in my earliest dysfunctional relationships, or maybe weak people because I didn't feel safe with a strong partner. Gender may have been the excuse this love didn't last, but it was never the reason. Immaturity, or differing levels of maturity, had a lot more to do with it.

I mean, sure, when I look back, I can blame the end of some relationships on me being a tranny, but none, not one, since I totally accepted being gender diverse, without expecting to have to apologise for it, without any concession that being trans made me in any way worth less than anyone else. Since I stopped believing shit about myself, I stopped getting shit. Had I then been rejected before for gender reasons, or were my partners just faithfully reflecting back my own insecurities?

Oh look, maybe I'm just an old out-of-touch eunuch, maybe solid stable and matching gender is an important part of love for other people, but it that's not what I see reflected in loving mature relationships. I see my parents over the years shifting their roles, giving ground, finding new ground, growing around each other. I see that in any couple (or threesome, or other combination) that lasts longer than a year or so. And I'm sorry, if you only stay together long enough to pop out a baby had you been heterosexual, that's not love, it's just a breeding behaviour; Enjoy it while it lasts, but don’t think when it ends that it’s true love that you’re lost.

True love doesn't care what gender or sex I am. True love never goes wrong. If you get dumped because you're a tranny, if you were dumped because she would rather be seen with a blond, if you dump him because you're worried about what your mates would think, if he dumps you for being too assertive, or you get dumped because she's really frightened of intimacy, or because he's really frightened of commitment... Well, if it's the first time, it's a shock; You get your heart broken; You move on; You fall in love again. If it's for the umpteenth time, it's a pattern; You do it again, or you get your head fixed.

But remember, with or without a partner, you always have love. It's what makes your heart beat. It's what makes you breath when you're not thinking about breathing. It may not quite be the same as the dizzy intoxicating infatuation of having a fantasy played out when you "fall in love", but the Love that makes your heart beat is much more powerful; It sustains the really important things in life, and you can never really lose it, no more than you could the air that you breathe.

Blessed be.

Thursday, June 22, 2006

The Sixth Tibetan Rite

Woke up with the usual horrific thought this morning, barely made it in to work, and made an appointment with a counsellor. Then I made notes about what I needed to talk about.

I contemplated suicide on the way to work, but came to the conclusion that even without sex or any prospect of this particular human interaction, my life is worth continuing with. It's just that the romantic angst has pervaded almost every moment and diminished my energies and capablity for other things.

How do I survive celibacy?

There is no point in talking about how I can not be celibate. I talked about that last time with this counsellor, and with many others over the last ten years, and it's obvious that nothing is going to work for me, or at least, I can't count on it happening soon, and even if I do miraculously find a partner in the unforeseeable future, I need to know how I can get through each day till then, with no romantic aspirations.I nearly qualified "Celibacy" with "enforced" or "unwilling" in the question, but this is not relevant. The fact is, in the current human society I am in, there is no man attracted to a full eunuch. Or at least, so few there may not be a reasonable chance of me meeting him within an achievable time frame. And I've really been trying everything this last few years. I chose to be a eunuch, notwithstanding that I didn't realise this would remove me from the sexual market. I choose to be androgynous, and not take any hormones. I choose to have no secondary sex charactertics. But, chosen or not, the problem is celibacy.

Sixth Tibetan Rite, I wrote underneath the question, and looked it up again on the net.

The initial source I had presviously read said it was for people who chose celibacy voluntarily, and warned against people doing it out of sexual guilt or any other lack of acceptance of sexual energy. However, other sources gave a broader perspective, and it may be a good idea for me after all. My problem is how to deal with the useless sex drive I have, that is, how to not be constantly depressed and frustrated.

Maybe the sixth rite is for me! The five rites have raised my sexual energy to an uncomfortable level for a celibate. What have I got lose? Only a fucking pointless libido.

I did three rounds of the Sixth rite, and felt a lot more stable. My best friend saw me shortly this afternoon, and said I looked glowing.

It works!

Happy New Year! (It's the first day of the Solar Year here in the Southern Hemisphere.)

Here's one piece I found on the web, by way. Possibly recommended for people in chosen or situational celibacy. I'll let you know how I go!

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Tibetan Rejuvenation Rite #6 restricted exercise The series of Five Tibetan exercises described above is capable of being practised two or three times a day everyday during the entire lifetime. In contrast, the following exercise, according to the Tibetan Lamas, has a very special purpose and it ought to be practised only in circumstances described below. If you are not sure, and do not practise the first five exercises regularly, do not practise this exercise. You have been warned.

The deemed purpose of the Tibetan #6 exercise is to redirect the excess of sexual and reproductive energy, generated by the activity of the what is perceived of as being the base chakra (also referred to as vortexes) to all higher chakras along the spine, especially to the brow chakra, which activity is related to our spiritual awareness and psychic abilities. According to Lamas this exercise ought to be practised only when the excess of the sexual urge is experienced, otherwise this exercise does more harm than benefit, by draining the energy from the base chakra.

By systematically practising the first five Tibetan exercises it is quite possible to raise the energy of the base chakra so much, that the sexual urge appears and requires to be dealt with. This is capable of happening at any age.

One way to handle the situation is to dissipate this powerful energy in sexual activities. The Tibetan alternative is to transmute it to higher use, to accelerate your spiritual development and rejuvenate the physical body. Instead of dissipating the reproductive energy you may choose to use it to regenerate cells in your entire physical body. The choice is yours; you have the free choices, as always.

Sometimes one may find in their lives that sexual activity without sincere love and a spiritually matched partner is similar to going to a forest and not seeing trees.

Sexual love in its clearest form brings about a spiritual union, bringing experiences and sensations far more profound, pleasurable, longer lasting and beneficial than just a physical act of relief.

In the absence of a partner that you are capable of achieving this with, Tibetan Lamas offer you the alternative, verified over many thousands of years to be not only effective, though also very beneficial to your total health, longevity, bio-energy level, Aura and most importantly to your spiritual development. They do not attempt to suppress the powerful energy of the base chakra. Such suppression is destined to fail, much as any act against the Nature. They offer an efficient way to transmute it for the higher purpose.

Tuesday, June 20, 2006

Very Special

OK, melodrama over, what am I gonna now? I can't stop being androgynous, I can't stop wanting personal intimate loving, I can't make any man fancy me or change his sexual preference or alter the odds of guys who would possibly find my particular sex/gender attractive. So, I can accept all those things, and put my hope in the faith that the Universe is very well constructed, and that whether I can see how or not (and I can't), the right person for me will be drawn to me. Looking for him has caused me nothing but heartbreak, disappoinment and rejection, but maybe he can find me.

New affirmation: God brings my perfect lover to me.

It almost removes me as an agent, but maybe this is appropriate, and I am an agent, in that I choose to have faith that the Universe is well constructed, and that there is therefor an appropriate partner for me, and that somehow we will meet. Seeing the glass as half full is an active ongoing choosing.

How do I deal with the present lack of loving, given that I finally accept there is nothing at all that I can actively do to change this, no way I can hunt it down, no way I can get intimate physical contact until the Universe in its own good time brings this to me?

Quieting the distressing thoughts with patience and faith, putting my energies into the jobs that I am obviously here to do, getting refugees out of jail, and other social justice causes including my paid job. Making sure I keep in regular contact with friends. Hug whenever I can. Get in crowds where physical contact is unavoidable. More voluntary community service. More reading. More writing. Appreciating more, criticising less. Maybe work on a show. Go dancing more, without at all hoping to pick up.

Accepting that there is nothing I can do to make loving happen, and not judging my life harshly by my failure to do so.

And affirming that the Loving God will bring Loving to me.

Sometime, faith is the only answer.

I can fear the long night, and dread tomorrow night being longer, or I can just stay home alone but warm, and trust the sun will shine again. I can't affect the seasons, just as I can't hurry love.

Unlike the seasons, however, I don't know how long it will be before the long dry spell for my heart ends. So I might as well climb into my head for the duration, rather than perish in the parched desert of my love life.

I've fuckin' got work to do, and I can't do while I'm hijacked by unmeetable agenda. I can't get out of bed if my head is screaming that no man will ever want me. I can argue with this thought, for really it's only that no man I've ever met so far wants me, and it may well simply take longer for me since the odds of a man finding my gender attractive are so much longer. That doesn't make me unfuckable, just very special.

And wouldn't it be nice if my mood changed for the better with the seasonal shift soon upon us? Fuck yes.

Sunday, June 18, 2006

Winter Solstice

Another few months have gone by since I was last loved. I still get out there and try, but it seems that every guy has someone else they're more interested in, or a sexual preference that precludes dickless boys.

(I'd been flirting recently by SMS with a boy, but I finally met up with him last night, and he was obviously much more engaged with others, inlcuding his boyfriend, but I didn't have any other romantic possibilities, so I'd been slightly hopeful about this one for the last few weeks, but I'm a fool, and young gay men like fluttering their eyelashes at me but at the end of the day they want a DICK. Or a Top. Or a Dom. Or anal sex. Or anything else that I'm not offering.)

I used to have a gender, or at least, I used to think I was a boy or a girl, and presented as a boy or a girl, and people knew what to make of me, or thought they did, and I didn't have to go for months or years without anyone wanting to get really close to me. Even if they realised our incompatibility the next morning, it was the next morning, and before I was rejected I got touched and held and felt and stroked and loved.

Now I don't have a gender, or at least, no manufactured gender, no commercially supported sexuality, no shaved legs or hairless underarms, no make-up, no girly hairdo, and no inclination to restrain my naturally girly animation, my unconventional dancing, or my gender transgression. I wear clothes that reveal my transgressive gender, rather than clothes that could disguise me with gender normativity. I wear skirts and flat tops, pairing my flat chest with my flat groin, and my genderless hairstyle with my flirtatious hips.

This is who I am, and I have to take the chance that in expressing this, most people may reject it, so that those who do find it compatible can find it in me.

So far, all I am finding is the people who don't find me sexually compatible. Or so it seems. Oh, they find me colourful, fun to dance with, and fun to talk with, but not to fuck with, not to kiss, not to touch and hold and feel.

It's a cold winter. I didn't get laid last night. I didn't get laid last weekend. I didn't get laid last month, or the month before, or the month before, or the month before that. I can see no prospect of getting laid tonight or this week or next week or next month or the month after or ever really. I've had sex twice this year and twice last year and no more than that for the last four years. And I've tried queer sex parties, saunas, nightclubs and bars (gay and straight, city and suburban), the commercial queer scene, the alternative queer scene, house parties, personal ads (gay, straight, newspaper and internet, as a boy and as a girl and as an "other"), and softly putting the hard word on every single attractive male I know.

There is no sign of progress.

I wish I could think of and do something different, something with more of a chance of success.

So I decided to pay for sex, just to feel human again, even if the other person was only there because of the money, at least they'd be there with me, and my skin could feel alive and safe and caressed. And the despair fogging my soul would be lifted.

So, I went to the commercial ads on Gaydar, and found a nice boy I liked the look of, who said he was bi (indeed, it was part of his handle), into men and women, and sent him a message. He messaged me back, and asked for my "stats". I described my age and height and weight and sex, and didn't hear back from him. Forty five minutes later, I sent another message, explaining that my query was genuine, though my gender odd, but I'd quite understand if he thought this would be a problem for him. He messaged me back that it was a problem, and thanked me for my understanding.

Gutted.

My flat 54 kilo yoga-toned body is so unattractive to other humans that I can't even pay for sex, not even with a bisexual professional who does both men and women. I can make my body as slim and flexible and strong as I want, and it will still be unattractive to 99.9% of men. Before I tried paying for it, I'd've said 99, but now I reckon it's 99.9.

POINT: Androgyny is what's right for me. It's what feels and looks right to me. Hormones, boobs, fat: yuk. I look at my body naked and I like it, it's right, it's beautiful to me. If I am the only one in God's Earth that appreciates this creation, then that's the way of it, and I will not alter it, diminish divine beauty, just for the sake of carnal satiation. And if I took hormones etcetra I would be so altered that it would not be the real me that was being appreciated.

POINT: If most men found androgyny to be their thing, then most men would be disappointed, because most people are not so androgynous. It works out better the way it is, with roughly 80% attracted to women (which works well, most other people being women, and most of them liking men), roughly 10% only attracted to men (which works perfectly within this 10% of men who fancy men, there being a 1:1 ratio of partners!), roughly 10% being bisexual, that is, into men or women, and maybe half a percent into transsexuals (which works well with the corresponding tiny percent of population who are transsexual), and one in a million or so maybe being into a androgynous eunuch like me. I presume we're about one in a million, although I have yet to meet anyone with the exact same gender as me. At any rate, I hope it's more than one in fifteen billion!

POINT: I altered my body, but because of my inherent drive to androgyny, so it's all part of the Creator's design. The Universe is perfectly designed, so there is a match for everybody. This even includes one in a million gorgeous girly eunuchs.

POINT: The shortest day of the year is today or tomorrow, the longest, darkest night. Then the days start getting longer again. Dark and light shift and change in cycles. Here in the longest darkest coldest night of my love life, with no prospects I can see, there may yet be a dawning, the sprouting of a seed I can't see, a chance I can't forsee.

OR I am only here for a short time, a quick mission of a few decades to break down the gender barriers, and the love to sustain me has run out, and a wolf or bus will be along soon to put me out of my misery.

Maybe this is the winter of my life. Maybe I'm hoping for a spring that's long gone.

I go on in the long dark night, trying to trust that God/the source of Love is there with me, unseen in the cold darkness, and that my suffering will not be endless.

It's winter now, at it's coldest and darkest and worst, but it will not always be winter, whether this particular body lives to see Spring or nay.

Blessed be.

Thursday, June 01, 2006

More preserverence, less keening.

A boy asked me last night if I was going to Confest. It's in June, very cold for camping out if you have no one to sleep with.

This morning I was hijacked by the thought that no one will sleep with me.

Last night I did a performance, and people told me I was good, but at the end of the night, people are paired up, and no one is paired up with me, SNAFU.

I'm going anyway.

I'm going to be beautiful and not be hijacked by bullshit despair. Des-pair. Lack of Pair : )

I have no resolution but the knowledge that the path of least persistance is the most direct route to failure.

I can perservere.

That's what got me through thus far. I just keep going, I just don't give up.

Sure, there are those bullshit times I waste crying and focusing on lack and envy and keening.

Keening.

It feels intense and meaningful, but it's bullshit dramatics.

I'd rather just get on with it, get out there and waste less time feeling sorry for myself, it's not productive, and only interupts my enjoyment of life.

Perserverence furthers, but keening does not.

Suffering is a choice.

It doesn't matter I have no normal gender, it doesn't matter if I am aged, it doesn't matter if I am a social porcupine.. Well, it does matter if I am social porcupine, but I can do something about that, I can drop the spikes, accept how beautiful everything is, and stop looking for the imperfections, the catch to the glamour. And maybe the patterns that keep people away from me pair-wise will dissipate.

Perserverence furthers, and suffering is a choice.

But Confest may make me too needy to have a sleeping partner, and it will be cold if I don't have one, but I do have a double sleeping bag so I can just double it up and I'll be warm enough. But I'm sad again just thinking of what I'll most probably have to do.

It's too emotionally fraught. Maybe I should just forget Confest and crying, both.

But I don't know if today is going to be a tobacco free day...