Though the sex was always good I felt like he was always holding back and so one night I asked him about it over snap chat. He told me he was so used to being dominant every day that he preferred when his partner took the lead in sex. This was something I’d never considered taking on the more dominant role especially as a trans women. Many of my thoughts and ideologies weren’t developed beyond the patriarchal heteronormative standards of society and I never embraced being sexually experimental. I cared about him and thought the idea was intriguing so I decided to try it.
I played into his fantasies as am dominatrix. Tying him up, seducing him in lace and leather. My MAC Red lipstick was his favorite. He’d love when it got all messy from me biting his ear, or kissing his neck, lips, and forehead. S&M was my favorite song to put on while we were in this role play.
“Cause I may be bad, but I’m perfectly good at it,
sex in the air, I don’t care I love the smell of it,
sticks and stones may break my bones but chains and hips excite me,
SSS and MMM”
And chains and whips there were. It elevated our sex to an entirely new level and I enjoyed playing the dominatrix much more than I thought I would. I think it ultimately unleashed a more unapologetic, riskier, fun, coquettish Christian that reflected outwardly and publicly. I became more comfortable with my body and more outspoken, I became the woman many of you only know me as, she was more there in E’s bedroom. Sex with him validated my obsession with Victoria’s Secret and lingerie (I’m now no longer a fan of Victoria’s Secret because I think it lost a level of sophistication around the time they got rid of their catalog but that’s an entirely different story).
I was too young and dumb to realize he was using me for sex. But the sex was good and reflecting back I was using him too. I used him to bring my love affair with Victoria’s Secret full circle, I used him to express a new understanding of femininity for me and I used him as a mental to escape from some of the other fucked up happenings in my life. I eventually learned he was seeing someone else part of the time I thought we’re in a relationship.
From E I almost learned a sense of unworthiness. My thoughts about him and what we had as well as what we didn’t have definitely was a mark of immaturity on my end to not realize that he didn’t love me. He cared and still cares about me and that is it. It was hard for me to conceptualize that it wasn’t love because I wasn’t sure that I’d ever had love. As a result the trust I once had for people is no longer there. I’ve learned to compartmentalize my feelings and desires as they relate to love. E and I still talk sporadically.
For so long I was ashamed of these physical, casual and intentionally brief interactions I had with men, but not so much anymore. But I realized at this point in my life that is exactly what I want. I don’t have the time nor am I at the place in life where I can have a functional relationship. Beyond the complications of being a 23 year old in today’s America I am also black and trans which adds an indescribable thicker layer of complications. Some girls like me have managed, but I don’t know how and currently I have no interest in that for myself. I need temporary ways to interaction with other bodies to fulfill physical and emotional needs.
I’d meet boys and carelessly make out with them dry hump them, and rarely, but occasionally I’d find one I would have sex with. I would use them then discard them often ignoring their texts or phone calls after our interactions.
Because I wanted things to end on my terms and I that because I was black and trans the ending was inevitable so I ended it before they could. In a weird way I objectify them going through them like accessories “He’s like my Cloe shoes, Betsey bag, oh he’s cute he’s like my Marc Jacobs chain, Prada shades, what’s his name? He’s my he’s my, he’s my, he’s my latest accessory” (Jordin Taylor). One of my dear friends from middle school told be a few years ago I was the most boy crazy person she’d ever met.
One of my favorite boys was this guy from Nashville. It’s easy to refrain from saying his name because as fucked up as it sounds the truth is I don’t remember it. He’s saved in my phone as “Sexy Nashville Guy”, I’ll call him SNG for short. Some of you may have seen him because last year I posted a picture on Snap Chat of us making out. He was beautiful, so cute and so flirty an amazing kisser and furry chest. SNG was in the city on tour with a band he worked with, but back in Nashville he owned a coffee shop. He’d talk to you like you were the only girl in his world and but you knew you weren’t. The same large blue eyes that were so seductive you knew were full of nothing other than lies but you wouldn’t care because they’d draw you in; it was like he was looking right through you. Mrs. Carrie Underwood also from Nashville had the perfect song for a Tennessee boy like him, Cowboy Casonova;
“You better take it from me,
That boy is like a disease,
You’re running, you’re trying, trying to hide
And wondering why you can’t get free,
He’s like a curse he’s like a drug, you get addicted to his love,
You’ll wanna get out but he’s holding you down because
You can’t live without one more touch
He’s a good time cowboy Casanova, leaning p against the record machine,
Looks like a cool drink of water, but he’s candy coated misery
He’s the devil in disguise a snake with blue eyes
And he only comes out at night
He’ll give ya feelings that you don’t want to fight you better run for your life
I see that look on your face you ain’t hearing what I say
So I’ll say it again cause I’ve been where you’ve been
And I know how it ends you can’t get away
Don’t even look in his eyes he’ll tell you nothing but lies
And you’ll wanna believe but you won’t be deceived if you listen to me and take my advice”
Good Girl also by Carrie Underwood was a good fit too:
“Won’t you open up yours eyes it’s just a matter of time,
that you’ll find he’s no good, girl, no good for you
you’ve better get to getting on your goodbye shoes….”
On his last day in town he came over after his band played and wrapped up. I kissed, rubbed, and dry humped the shit out of SNG and I’ve never spoke to or seen him again.