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, April 08, 2008

Tits and Alienation

I went on hormones again because I was depressed about being loverless, and the doctors and counsellors kept telling me the problem was that my primary sex characteristic (a replicunt) didn’t match the secondary characteristics (flat chest, boyish figure). Now I am three months into the process and am neither fish nor fowl. I guess I look like a pre-op trany with my little hormone titties. I can’t expect the boobs to make much difference until they reach full size, expected after six months of ’mones, i.e. three months away...



My body doesn’t feel right. I get all the naff side effects of hormone treatment, tiredness, poor concentration, poor memory retention or access, and manic-depressive mood swings. Worse, if I stand up quickly, I nearly faint. I’m used to a much fitter body and a better functioning brain. But, I can’t face being loverless forever, so I give up my intellect for tits.



And the dubious part of me thinks they won’t make the slightest bit of difference.



I was at a party on Saturday night where some kids were playing spin the bottle. I remembered my primary school classmates playing spin the bottle, with the girl I had a crush on in Grade 5, and wishing there was some way I could join the circle. But I never knew how, and I still don’t know how, and I think that’s more of an obstacle than primary or secondary sex characteristics can ever be.



I just finished reading "Look Me In the Eyes", the autobio of an Aspergian, and I definitely identified with the social alienation he suffered. For years I had trouble with the question, "How are you?", unable to grasp that it was almost never literally meant. I could hardly ever tell when people were serious or not. I couldn’t understand why they would say things they did not mean literally. Now I know it’s all part of the social dialogue, the rhetorical questions, codes of dressing, and subtle gestures that other people easily understand, while I was left thinking they all had some sort of secret knowledge or secret language or telepathy that excluded me, and that isn’t too far off the mark I guess.



I partly hope that the boobs due to fully arrive in three months will compensate for my social inarticulacy, so that I can have a lover, and I partly hope they won’t, so that I can (go off hormones and) have back the body and brain I can move freely in.



Luckily, the future is an unknown country, and there may be many more fortuitous possibilities there, if only I can continue proceeding into it.

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