Come on. You guys knew I wouldn’t be able to resist posting today! It’s Transgender Day of Visibility!
If you’re coming to my blog for the first time (welcome!), then this won’t be so bad. If you’re a regular viewer (thank you!), please excuse the heavy bludgeoning with the mallet of obviousness.
I’m transgender. I didn’t always know it, since I didn’t have words for what I felt and how I understood myself until I was in college. I identify somewhere in the more neutral gray area of the gender spectrum, and my sexuality is a little ambiguous sometimes due to that non-conforming gender identity. I’m primarily attracted to men and/or masculinity, but there are exceptions to that rule (the main one being my amazing partner, Saundra, who is definitely a cis-gender female). I do a bit of a series on this blog (I promise I haven’t forgotten it, even though I’ve been dormant for a while due to injury), and it’s called “Signs You’re Not Cis-Gender”. It’s basically where I make observations about my life that would be the little red flags to me or to people around me that I don’t identify the same as everyone around me.
This isn’t a huge post, and I’m sure people probably knew all that info above, so let’s just keep this fun and easy, shall we? ^_^ The picture below has 5 Things You Should Know About Trans People. Quick and easy! Learn something! And then, below that, please enjoy an excerpt of the first trans* story I ever wrote: “The Best Thing on Eight Wheels”, which is part of the Sweethearts & Seduction anthology. One of these days, I’ll finish writing 52 Weeks as well, which features a crossdresser who finds out his gender is far more fluid than he gives himself credit for… with a lot of BDSM goodness along the way. (This is why the motto for my co-written fiction with Saundra is “Queer Kinky Love”.)
Excerpt from “The Best Thing on Eight Wheels”
Zane sighed as he stepped out of an all too brief shower and inspected himself in the mirror while reaching for his basket of post-shower goodies. Beauty came at a price, even masculine beauty, and he always gave his best effort when Troy so much as mentioned the word ‘date’. Even with all his products, his reflection never looked quite right to him. Learning to accept the form he was attached to and pick out the positives instead of focusing on the negatives was an ongoing struggle. It was easier every time Troy told him how sexy and handsome he was while naked, but off hand, Zane couldn’t remember the last time words like those had come from Troy’s lips. Nowadays, he was lucky if he managed to procure Troy’s help unhooking his bindings at night, much less enjoy their slightly cramped bathroom together or—God forbid!—have sex that did more than barely manage to get them both off before they passed out.
Positive, he reminded himself. Concentrate on the positive.
His commute had started giving him sun-kissed, golden tips. That was kind of nice. And all the exercise was keeping him trim enough to pass more easily than he had for a long time. He combed his fingers through his hair and trailed them down his face, making eye contact with himself in the mirror.
“I am a being of water and light, adaptable and ever-present,” he recited, the familiar words sending a wave of calmness through him, making breathing easier and the knots in his shoulders loosen a fraction. “I bring life and illumination to those around me, and am appreciated for the good I do today and every day.”
Pausing, Zane smeared lotion over his chest and torso, gently rubbing it into his skin and breathing in the subtle spicy scent left behind. “I am beautiful, and those around me love and accept me exactly as I am. Today, no person, place, or thing can irritate or annoy me.” Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the last sentence and the comforting brush of Corduroy’s furry flank against his damp calves. “I choose to be at peace.”
Zane lifted his arms and stretched all the way up onto his tiptoes, repeating the mantra silently for a few heartbeats before releasing his breath and dropping his arms in a whoosh, pushing all that negativity out of his mind and body. When he looked in the mirror again, it was easier to smile. That was more like it.
The rest of his pre-date routine seemed to fly by, punctuated by a few cuddles with Corduroy, who didn’t seem to care that every nuzzle and tail swish had to be followed by the sticky roller that was every cat-owner’s best friend. The knock at his door didn’t phase him as he put the final touches on his ensemble, and he rolled his eyes after habitually checking the peep hole.
Opening the door to Micah was like inviting a plume of ultraviolet glitter into his apartment. If there was any man in his acquaintance who might sprout faerie wings and shit out rainbow sprinkles and Pixie Stix, it was Micah. True to form, Micah swept in with a flourish, immediately pulling him into an excited hug with a boyish squeak.
“Hellooo, sexy!” Micah drawled, whistling as he forced Zane to turn around in a quick circle. The shameless inspection made Zane laugh, and he pushed Micah away, feeling sufficiently butch in his outfit compared to Micah’s skin-tight and strategically torn club wear.
“Says the one who will obviously be prowling the roller rink for Mr. Right. Did you use an entire pot of glitter, ’cause I think half of it is now stuck on me,” Zane teased, taking Micah’s hand and guiding him in a little twirl of his own.
“Of course not,” Micah huffed through a broad grin. “I have a two pot minimum on special occasions.”
Zane’s eyebrow twitched upward. “I thought tonight was my date night. You make it sound like—”
“Well, if I find Mr. Right tonight, then that makes it my special occasion,” Micah interrupted, a dreamy quality flowing over his face. “Tonight could be the night I find my unicorn… so don’t you ruin it for me!” The last was delivered with a jab that made Zane grateful for good bindings, and he retaliated with his own poke to bronze skin peeking through Micah’s hole-ridden shirt. It sent Micah into a fit of giggles that would have been too adorable for any other gay boy to pull off with an ounce of dignity. “You ready or what?”
“Yep,” Zane murmured, grabbing his wallet, key, and a small bag of essentials before ushering Micah out the door. He whispered an apology to Corduroy, who seemed very put out to be left behind, and then shut and locked the door. “And I have a five to give you for gas.”
“No, sir,” Micah said with a wave of his hand as he flounced down to the curb and his illegally parked Mazda. “This one’s on me.”
Zane frowned. “But—”
“I said no,” Micah sang without an ounce of anger, turning and pointing down at what Zane had to assume was his wallet and not his packer. “You just keep that in your pants, get your fine ass in my car, and enjoy your date night. Deal?”
Zane sighed and shoved his wallet into his back pocket with a smile, rounding Micah’s car obediently. “Deal, but if you force me to listen to Beyoncé all the way to the rink, all bets are off, and I’m stashing it in your glove compartment where you can’t reach it while you drive.”
Micah just stuck his tongue out at him, and once they were strapped in, the car rumbled to life and Zane was promptly blasted with “Run the World”. Micah sang along and gyrated as they drove. Zane reached for the glove compartment with an amused grin, ignoring Micah’s protests.