Recently, my partner and I had made things “officiale” in our dating adventure, as partners and as a couple. As such, we did not make it “traditionale” nor could ever do such. Her being a genetic woman, and Me being transgender/transsexual is another aspect to the mix, each with dual roles at times.
In spite of being horribly repressed and knowing I was a girl from my earliest memories, I was still socialized as a boy, and groomed as the “second son” or “auxiliary back-up plan for carrying on the family name” upbringing. Unlike my father and older (ahem) brother, I was sympathetic, empathetic, and kind towards women. They (women) were not property, slaves, nor punching bags.
What I do know now compared to pre-boy-puberty is that:
My relationship with Grace, my 3rd grade girlfriend from Barrie Elementary School in Fort Atkinson, Wisconsin, was not about controlling the other person. Nor was it ever a heated, hormone-driven, sex-goal relationship. We climbed trees, kissed, talked, played. She had a cool short haircut too.
As the “not so important boy-child” of the house, I got to freely learn cooking and sewing skills. I got to spend more time in the garden. I learned how to raise a few chickens for eggs. But I also had been conditioned to violence of men. Not that violence was acceptable, but that it was simply present.
My lessons of how boys act around girls were largely taught by television and anyone who wasn’t related by blood. I am kind, sincere, protective, accommodating, thoughtful…I wasn’t always the way I am now. Even while repressing my girl-self, I was initially all these to everyone that I was in a relationship with…there were a lot of “high-maintenance” women in my life to make the one inside me go away. It obviously didn’t work, but that’s another story.
Her and I flow and ebb with “guardian/warrior” and “princess/waif” constantly and continuously. She cooks amazing meals; brings flowers that make me melt; and can take charge of any situation. I bombard her with cards, cuddles, and flowers; meals fit for royalty; and I sleep lightly with a watchful eye and ear to our surroundings. I’d happily flail myself between danger and her when needed.
I am still an odd duck. My curves and my body speak of my womanity, also does my grace, charm, and candor.. Ah, but my intimate social behavior towards a partner speaks of chivalry.
So I act like a boy at times.
So sue me!