Something I always wanted to Ask

When I was a child trying to figure out what the hell I was since little boys were not supposed to believe they were little girls in the 50s my dreams involved a Knight in Shining Armor rescuing me from the pain of my existence and transporting me to a place where my Knight would hold me and cherish me as his wife.  Ok, probably a little off the wall for some of you but even as a child I knew I was intended to live my life with a man.  I would have settled for a husband, a family, and a house with a white picket fence but I really wanted my Knight like a lot of little girls did and do. Disney has made a fortune on little girl’s dreams.

Even before I realized how attracted I was to boys at 12 I knew inside this was what I wanted.  I wanted to be beautiful and desirable like the vast majority of girls did then and do now. I was both cursed and blessed at the same time. I was cursed by being born transsexual and blessed with very low testosterone levels and blessed and cursed with a decidedly feminine appearance. I looked like my mother who was very beautiful.

Aria Blue and her sycophants and many others have held that against kids like me and have attempted to claim we were gay boys deluding ourselves but in reality we were just little girls like all the other little girls just with a birth defect. My appearance and those of friends like me resulted in me facing a brutality most of you have no clue about and that is actually good because I would wish those early years on not even my worst enemy.

It is brutally confusing to look in the mirror and see a girl looking back at you while everyone screams you are a boy and you have absolutely zero idea how to actually be a boy unless you try and copy your two brothers. In my case you do bad things to yourself until you meet Harry Benjamin. I just wanted to be a complete girl. Then when I reached puberty it was not that of a boy but of a girl albeit one with lower estrogen levels than normal girls but higher than a boy so at 12 I really began to change physically and I realized I really found boys cute and interesting and that was scary but also somewhat natural to me. I know this because I have a copy of my tests from Children’s Hospital in Boston in late summer of 1958 when I was 12.

I was both scared of and very attracted to boys which probably got me in even more trouble with them because if they caught me looking at them it meant a beating but I still wanted my Knight in Shining Armor or my Prince Charming to save me and make me his forever. I was Cinderella or Snow White who needed her savior and besides girls wanted boys to protect them and cherish them or they did in my world anyway.

Even before I met Kevin I knew I wanted a boy to make love to me as his girl. For kids like me it was about gender and being female but it was also about physical sex with boys because how else could you have kids. Ok, that part I didn’t get until Harry told me I would never bear children, that really hurt by the way, but for my age I had a lot of interest in sex as a girl with a boy. My poor mother got the triple whammy with me. A son who believed he was a girl, a son attracted to boys as a girl, and one that wanted sex as a girl with boy and wanted it quite badly as time went on. Mom once told me if I had been born female she might have had to lock me up to keep me away from boys.

The first evening I met Harry and he described the process I would have to go through one of the first questions I asked was when could I have sex. I asked Harry much later when I had fully transitioned why I was so intent on having sex and he just laughed and said some girls are just that way which I found puzzling but did eventually learn was true of a smaller percentage of girls/women than I realized.

Now in the current world of Political Correctness admitting one was attracted to boys and really wanted to have sex with boys as a girl was not the wisest topic to bring up because the vast majority of transsexuals are actually asexual or had little interest in sex with men afterwards which I found baffling but then I never had sex as a boy so maybe that spoils one for having sex as a girl. I was told this by Aria Blue as she dismissed me as an elitist old timer.

The other topic never broached upon penalty of being criticized by many was I actually liked the concept of being pretty, desirable, and sexy so men would find me attractive.  It seems one needed to become a feminist after surgery and enjoying sex or enjoying the prospect of being attractive is politically incorrect and should be unsaid so as not to harm the not so attractive. It usually meant the one criticizing you was one of the not so attractive. Is being pretty a privilege because I can assure you I worked at it very hard?

Over the years I had a difficult time controlling myself with Kevin and then several boyfriends in college.  It is an amazing feeling for a girl like me when I man takes you in his arms and you feel his power and strength and you want him to use that to ravish you but also protect you. The harder part is the equipment mismatch and thankfully my little winky didn’t work like that but emotionally it was quite uplifting. I love a man to hold a door for me and to treat me like a lady and to pull me tightly against his body when we dance and tell me what he wants to do to me and this was before my surgery.

After surgery among the first words I spoke were “when can I have sex” after telling Harry “yes I finally feel complete”. All the years before my surgery I had to stop a boys hand as it moved up my thigh to that grand playground all men adore although there are other areas they might like almost as much.

I healed slowly but I was able to start dating again about 2 months after surgery but with the express limitation no sex until I was given the go ahead. If you think I sounded frustrated before surgery I was going bonkers although I felt heck they could feel around if they wanted because I thought it looked wonderful but then I was biased.

In the middle of April my guitar player friend showed up and I had a house guest for a while and the first night there he simply said “let me see it Liz” and I remember looking and thinking why does he want to see it? So I asked him and he said I would like to finally see the finished you and he had me. So my guitar playing rock god was the first man that ever saw me naked and his only words were “it looks real”. Did he think it would look phony? What a shocking thought.

I suddenly felt a little shy and grabbed a towel to wrap myself in because it hit me he was the first man to ever see me naked and I remember thinking why am I embarrassed because I had wanted this moment my entire life and although we had necked among things everyone knew that one place was strictly off limits and I mean a total do not touch or go near zone. Now it wasn’t and I admit I wished he could have been my first lover but it was not to be but I dropped the towel and he was the first man to “play around” with the new me and it was kind of amazing. I felt so freaking alive. I was not a freak any more.  I was a girl finally. I satisfied him another way and god I wanted it so badly it hurt.

A couple of days later we went to Max’s Kansas City Steakhouse to hear a new band and he had  a hand high up on my thigh the entire evening and it was all I could do not to jump him right then and there. I was a good girl in that I did not have intercourse but only because I didn’t want to damage my gorgeous new vagina but I had feelings and stirrings down there and they were both confusing and exciting.

I was finally cleared for sex which in itself was a weird thing because Granato was nice but weird. When he did my orchiectomy in his office with a local at 6:30 PM he offered me the parts he removed in a jar and I was so aghast I screamed. I hear today they ask if one wants to save sperm which is in my opinion as insane as asking me if I wanted the parts after the orchiectomy.

It was June of 1971 and I was on the hunt for the man I wanted to lose my virginity to since oral doesn’t count as sex according to Bill Clinton. On a cool June 12, 1971 Saturday evening I went to a party with Oscar.  He was looking for a guy and so was I although I still believe Oscar had a lot to do with me meeting this man but he claims ignorance to this very day.

I loved Latin dances and I remember this man staring at me across the room and he was spooky good looking and my first thought was “oh my god” why is he looking at me like that? Oscar eventually introduced us and I was his the second he took my hand and kissed it as he introduced himself and I glanced at Oscar and he had this devilish smirk and before I could comment sarcastically to Oscar Enrique, or “Rico”, pulled me to the area couples were dancing and they should have been playing the Doors song “Light My Fire”. I was an inferno within seconds.

He seduced me and he worked hard seducing me and I should have just said “I am yours so take me” but he was just very cute as he fawned over me and I love men fawning over me and I admit it. It turned out this was his apartment and this was his party and his bedroom was ours and I made a complete fool of myself trying to be so cool.

I remember telling him weird things like, “I don’t really know much about sex”, I am a virgin” which I had no clue men love, “I am not sure if I will lubricate well enough”, and god knows what else. I was very nervous to be honest but none of my silliness bothered him and I felt I completed my path to being a girl that evening as he made love to me and drove me almost out of my skin. There was no big orgasm but some small ones I think but it was just one of those moments in life that overwhelms you and I was of course almost in tears afterward and I had to tell Rico he had done wonderfully and I was just happy.

I fell asleep in his arms and when I woke up the next morning I was so sore all over I could hardly move.  It was a major effort to disentangle myself from him and it was a very slow walk if not stumble to the toilet. We eventually showered together and when I got back to my apartment I was sure he would never call again but he did and we fell in love eventually.

I had my first orgasm with him and I learned a lot about sex. Initially I was worried about being good enough to please a man but after a while sex or at least good sex makes you very selfish. I stopped caring if I was any good and I began to only care if he was good because he always had orgasms and I didn’t. Good sex is kind of amazing and for me it involved the foreplay and what happened after sex and Rico was A+ everywhere and we were to be married but I forgot something.

I could never tell him about the past or better said I never could find the right way to tell him and after I said yes I realized I needed to get it over with but I never got that chance. Until recently I had no idea how he found out but he did and it was horrible and in very late fall in Rockefeller Center we met and I did not get many words in as he was very upset with me and said some very horrible things. Latin men can have a hard time with this shit it seems.

My friend Lena had told me “He will break your heart” and he eventually did but I dismissed her as the Spanish Drama Queen she always seemed to be but she understood Spanish men better than me.

Despite the miserable ending Rico was wonderful for me. He brought Opera into my life at the Met. I was introduced to the beauty of the Ballet and we went to Yankees -Red Sox games and I rooted for the Red Sox and he rooted for the Yankees and we had a wonderful time. He taught me so much about me as a girl that I could never really hate him because in so many ways it was my fault but in so many other ways I am so glad I did not tell him.

Okay, I almost forgot about my question. My question is simple.

Why do men when they make love to a girl for the first time almost invariably seem to test out your vagina by inserting fingers first?  I would understand it better if they were initially lubricating you but that is not the case.  Are they afraid a vagina might be like a Venus flytrap and snip off a piece of that most prized possession of theirs?

Another question is.

It ranks right up there with how come men have an easier time getting my bra off than I do? Do they give boys training classes in removal of the bra? I dated this guy long after I was divorced from my first husband and I was wearing a front clasping bra and if you want to see a poor confused man you had to see his face. I think I whispered “it is in front” but he was so confused. He was helpless it seemed.

Sex is great and it is liberating and it is joyful and if anyone tells you it is not tell them to stop fucking themselves and try fucking a partner and I could care less what gender the partner is.  Life is too short not to enjoy one of life’s great joys.  As for those claiming to be asexual I cannot tell you how sorry I am for you and you have no idea what you are missing but then again maybe you do.