Me, but not

I relate to Melanie that Elliot Page has come out as trans and nonbinary, joking that the Left is trying to trick me into bisexuality. Under their former presumed gender identity, Page had been one of my low-key celebrity crushes since they were in Juno. When they came out as a lesbian, that seemed obvious. I found them attractive, so the chances were good that they were not straight nor rocking their assigned gender identity. The latter became more evident during their later projects, most notably Umbrella Academy. They were obviously no longer presenting as a spunky girl.

Melanie informed me that I have never been cis nor straight in my life, so Page's coming out affected nothing for my sexuality. I laughed because she isn't exactly wrong. I'm not homosexual. I can't imagine wanting to date or bed a man, though I can point to men I think are attractive (that these men are androgynous may be a factor). I would more likely be flattered than offended if a man flirted with me if he were polite about it and not an ogre. (One must have standards in declining attention.)

My wife declared herself nonbinary a few years ago (though she is female-presenting and has no stated interest in changing that). That has no bearing on how I am attracted to her. It does provide the epistemological haziness if one is straight when one's partner is female-bodies and neutral-minded. It is intellectually more comfortable to say, "Yes, still straight," by dint that I would not intentionally seek out another enby--and indeed not a man--if our marriage ended. I get to define myself. I don't think I am doing Amber a disservice or invalidating her by saying that I think some women are sexy.

I don't live my life on the hypermasculine end of the gender spectrum--I have not visited that country myself--which may account for a dating history populated by bisexual women and lesbians. Most straight, cis men manage to date zero lesbians. Of my five significant partners, four of them have had relationships with women.

If I could switch back and forth between male and female bodies without inconvenience, I would have no issues with that. My fiction demonstrates this, as I disproportionally write from a female perspective because I can more safely express that part of my personality on the page. I have no dysphoria being male. I have few problems with my body as it stands. It does what it needs to, mostly in the sense of writing and being healthy. Gender is not my primary concern or label; I am a Writer long before I am a Man. I have always been more feminine or, more pejoratively, girly than most men. Being feminine was never offensive to me. As I've grown older, it seems irrelevant to care.

Once, Melanie said that I was like a male femme lesbian. I figured that was about right. When we first began to speak, she assumed that I must be a transman too scared to tell her, up to the point where she established I was factory-original.

I want to be attractive as I am, but that is not in makeup and a dress or in a suit (though one of my favorite jackets--a thrift store find---was designed for women but is shaped better than any tailored for a modern, apparently rectangular man). I like clothing that is fitted and slightly stretchy, which is apparently presumed to be mincing. It does not affect me much. I like what I like. If I could switch bodies, I would prefer that version of me to be comfortable in my wardrobe (she might wear dresses and skirts, though; I don't want to wear them, but I wouldn't want to limit her).

Daniel, the best man at my wedding, married Kest, an agender artist who refers to him as her wife. He, too, is in a real sense not married to the gender binary. Daniel can't be the same breed of cisgender heterosexual as a random cross-section of America, even if all the applicable parts fit. He is the man who has most seen me for who I am, with all that entails. We have checked out women together (and have only done so for men in the context of burlesque, where nothing is as it should be). He isn't homosexual, but I cannot say what he would call himself.

Similarly, Aaron likely decided that I was a worthwhile man to get to know when I echoed his distaste for modern masculinity. Most of my friends seem not to be entirely cis nor straight. Maybe this reflects on society making this gray allowable, perhaps only the people who gravitate toward me. The gender binary tends to be restrictive by definition and chafing in practice. It is better to liberate mental resources rather than cultivate paranoia that everyone is watching one's style of dress and movement.

I have always struggled to form friendships with men because they tend to be less comfortable deviating from society's role projected upon them. Women are freer to explore their gender and sexuality openly, but a man wearing eyeliner is making a more profound statement than "I just felt like it made my eyes pop." Women are allowed to be more than men and can better let themselves be known.

Also, not for nothing, but I am sexually attracted to women (and was too available from fourteen to seventeen), so it was easier to transition high school girlfriends to friends and vice versa. There was no equivalent way for a guy to go from "passionate infatuation" to "companionable and sexless fondness." Instead, I have to tiptoe on eggshells awaiting a disqualifying slur. I could not arrive at comfort for the first several in-person encounters.

I can name a dozen women I know who have at least given their gender the ol' college try, if not outright labeling themselves some form of bi- or pansexual (it's a big umbrella, so assume I include you under it if you wish to be, dear reader). I know of no men, though there is no reason beyond the prohibition on men seeming less than manly. (The gay men I know love maleness and honor it; homosexuality isn't a feminine characteristic. The ancient Greeks and Spartans certainly didn't think so.) A quick glance at Craigslist or the like show men who would punch you for implying that they liked men even a little, but who are thirstily seeking a discreet meetup in the nearest men's bathroom with a glory hole.

By traditional masculinity, I am not making some claim that being more bookish than sporty is feminine. The poet-scholar is as much a masculine trope as the sport-warrior, as informed and propped up by institutional misogyny. (Though, of course, one can be a brainy lacrosse player and still be an intersectional feminist; masculinity isn't inherently and needn't be toxic.) One can be comfortable with one's gender role, and the supposed interests and proclivities of the other team do not make one gender nonconforming.

Cis men have to be stricter with their gender identities if they don't want to be cast out of the tribe, a constant pressure. All of this being said, I remained uncomfortable hugging Daniel, a man whom I love, well into our friendship. I was even nervous about saying that I loved him, though I know it would not have bothered him, and I know that he felt the same. However much I know about gender identity and sexuality, I still grew up in a homophobic, woman-disparaging society and will have to spend my life unlearning implicit lessons.

Amber and I were talking recently about how there are men who will not eat fruit or vegetables, adequately clean themselves, or literally refuse to wipe their asses because they have decided these things are exclusively the domain of the reviled homosexual. Nothing like scurvy, body odor, and skidmarks to prove you prefer women--especially when you consider every part of being a woman to be reprehensible. The idea of their sexuality is a shrill litany always shrieking through their heads. They refuse to acknowledge that they don't need to torture themselves, that no one worthwhile will judge them for finally mastering their toilet training. Most people do not waste their cognitive power looking around always to make sure everything is within a binary of gender identity that is not a valid or historical measure.

Pink used to be the color of men, resembling blood. Blue was a plainly effete color by contrast. Men wore finery until Beau Brummell said obsessing over dull clothing was the height of masculinity. Trans people existed as long as there were people, and many historical figures didn't only have "really good friends and roommates." If we as a culture could take a deep breath and stop fixating so much on other people's gender identity, like the So Straight I Never Touch My Ass crew, we would have a lot less shit to deal with.

last watched: Toast of the Town
reading: Geek Love