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torquillI went to a play party last night.
It was the same queer party that I attended a couple of times last year, though I didn't recognize more than a couple of people. This time I felt very comfortable, quite confident and settled. I was a little surprised by that -- I was less nervous than most of the other people there, I think -- but I wasn't going to complain.
We started out with some massages; I gave one, then got one from somebody else. After that I started looking around for someone who seemed attractive to me. During one of the opening shares, I noted that a lot of people were into bondage and pain-play, which I actually find something of a turn-off (even if they respect my boundaries). Some of the others were a bit too femme for my taste, or too... how do I put this? They were queer, if they were at the party, but a few of the men there seemed like the average guy I might find at a bar. I want somebody more sensitive, more thoughtful, more aware than that.
I spotted one person giving another a massage on the padded table, and realized I felt some attraction there. So, rather than sit and hope that I could catch them at the right time after they were done, I actually walked over and caught their attention (they were the one giving the massage). I said, when you're finished here, I'd like to see what we can work out. I got a positive response, and I went and sat down again. Still nervous, but not anxious and watchful.
It turned out, when they sought me out, that we were very much of a similar temperament, so working out the logistics of what to do, where to do it, waiting for the bathroom to be free so I could be comfortable, all of that was calm and adult. I said that I was a little surprised that I wasn't more anxious than I felt, and they said that their own heart was fluttering a bit, which surprised me -- they seemed like a veteran at this sort of thing, very casual.
I ended up getting very soundly laid, with a great deal of skill, by somebody who clearly knew what they were doing. Lots of checking in, reading my reactions, and simple kindness. I made sure to give sincere thanks and compliments. I reciprocated, at least somewhat, with a back massage, though I was having trouble focusing as much as I usually do. A little later I wandered off to the couch and snuggled up to yet another person, who was happy to cuddle. It was getting late.
After about fifteen minutes I had to pull away, because I was feeling panicky. I had looked up at the wall, where my eyes had gone all evening -- it's a loft with exposed beams, and I like studying how the place is put together -- and suddenly had the thought that I was so calm and confident, not at all like I expected myself to be. I was asking for what I wanted with only a fraction of my old nerves. The next thing to run through my head was "I've been me for, what... eighteen months, now?" I didn't realize where that train of thought was going until I got a surge of panic and thought "...what the hell am I doing?"
I have been to three of these parties, now, and fell off the edge of myself after each one. With the other two it happened the next day and in the car going home, respectively; I guess the reaction time has now shortened to the point that it happens before I leave the party. Which was actually good, as the host pointed out -- it meant that I had some support. I spent maybe five minutes trying to get a grip on who I was before I heard my previous partner ask me how I was doing, and when they didn't get a response, I got another inquiry of whether it was okay if they sat down next to me. I had to tell them that I didn't know whether I wanted to be touched, but I said it was okay when it was offered. And that was what I needed; that particular person made me feel safe and cared for, and that eased my panic enough that I was able to find Sam again, and ground myself. I explained that I had fallen off the edge of myself, and they said "oh... you fell out of your window." I'm glad it made sense to them.
We were joined by the host a little while later, who also rubbed my back after giving me a blanket, and they got me back on a reasonably even keel. I was tremendously grateful to my new friend for sticking around and taking care of me. (I gave them my card earlier, because they have a garden issue I might be able to help with... I really hope they call.) When I drove home I was shaky, and I could tell my executive function had bad timing on a couple of cylinders, but I was mostly okay. I did feel like I was missing a step in the rebuilding process, but it turned out that all I needed to do was reassure Amy and calm her panic, and then I stopped slipping out of myself. Today I'm groggy and tired, but definitely me again.
I have a bit of a crush on that particular person now, but I am consciously separating them from the feelings I'm having -- they're representative of the kind of person I want to be around and with, and I trust that there are others, if I can find them. I don't actually know this one person terribly well, and I don't have to cling to them. I can take that profile, however -- what I like about them -- and look for it in others, and maybe target my search for people a bit better.
I'm modifying my attraction criteria a bit; while before I said I was attracted to masculinity, I think I'm actually attracted to a specific mix of masculinity and femininity, which makes for the soft-masculine attitude often found in butch lesbians and trans men. It lacks the edges of toxicity and entitlement which I could see in the cis men at the party. I've met a few cis men with that mixture, too, but generally they've been more self-aware or sensitive (and stigmatized for it) than the average male population. A lot of men are not accustomed to expressing deep compassion.
That contrast was evident to me during the party itself, when my partner and I chose a place on the floor that happened to be next to where one of the cis guys was sitting in an armchair. While he was helpful once (by fetching my water bottle, which was out of reach for both of us), I was aware of his eyes on me the whole time we played; in itself that was fine, I don't mind a bit of voyeurism, and the proximity was simply a matter of the available space. What tipped it over into "sigh" territory was when my partner went off to hit the bathroom or get some supplies or something afterward, and our audience leaned down to ask whether I'd be interested in cuddling. Again, not objectionable, it was perfectly reasonable to ask. What struck me was his look when he asked, and the way he shifted as I replied -- he hadn't expected me to refuse him, he was shifting to get up as soon as I spoke, and he was disappointed because, his eyes had said, he now found me very sexy and he wanted to get in on some of that sexy action. I was now a sex object. It's that kind of unexamined mental process -- the shift from "a person to have small talk with" to "oh, now I see how appealing you are when you have sex, I want some of that" without any consideration that I might not actually want to have sex with *them* -- that prompts a sense of resigned disappointment in the average play-party attendee or bar crawler. And kind of a creepy feeling at being ogled.
Obviously some of my attraction to soft masculinity comes from a desire to avoid that entitled attitude. I'm still unpacking how much of the rest of it is a matter of "I want to be that" rather than "I want to be with that". It can be both, of course, and I think there's a significant element of tribalism at play. I want to be with those people because I feel like I belong there, and when I'm comfortable I feel more attracted and attractive. But I was aware, even at the time, that I was attracted to my partner at least partially because they were very much the kind of person I would like to become.
My observations have strengthened my sense that the spaces I should be seeking out are trans-masculine and trans-man spaces, with maybe a butch enclave if I can find one (particularly with members who aren't out of my comfortable age range). I think I'll still find friends in self-introspective spaces, but if I want a sense of community and romantic/sexual opportunities, finding those soft-masculine spaces will probably be key.
For right now, though, I'm still really hoping the person from last night will call. :)
It was the same queer party that I attended a couple of times last year, though I didn't recognize more than a couple of people. This time I felt very comfortable, quite confident and settled. I was a little surprised by that -- I was less nervous than most of the other people there, I think -- but I wasn't going to complain.
We started out with some massages; I gave one, then got one from somebody else. After that I started looking around for someone who seemed attractive to me. During one of the opening shares, I noted that a lot of people were into bondage and pain-play, which I actually find something of a turn-off (even if they respect my boundaries). Some of the others were a bit too femme for my taste, or too... how do I put this? They were queer, if they were at the party, but a few of the men there seemed like the average guy I might find at a bar. I want somebody more sensitive, more thoughtful, more aware than that.
I spotted one person giving another a massage on the padded table, and realized I felt some attraction there. So, rather than sit and hope that I could catch them at the right time after they were done, I actually walked over and caught their attention (they were the one giving the massage). I said, when you're finished here, I'd like to see what we can work out. I got a positive response, and I went and sat down again. Still nervous, but not anxious and watchful.
It turned out, when they sought me out, that we were very much of a similar temperament, so working out the logistics of what to do, where to do it, waiting for the bathroom to be free so I could be comfortable, all of that was calm and adult. I said that I was a little surprised that I wasn't more anxious than I felt, and they said that their own heart was fluttering a bit, which surprised me -- they seemed like a veteran at this sort of thing, very casual.
I ended up getting very soundly laid, with a great deal of skill, by somebody who clearly knew what they were doing. Lots of checking in, reading my reactions, and simple kindness. I made sure to give sincere thanks and compliments. I reciprocated, at least somewhat, with a back massage, though I was having trouble focusing as much as I usually do. A little later I wandered off to the couch and snuggled up to yet another person, who was happy to cuddle. It was getting late.
After about fifteen minutes I had to pull away, because I was feeling panicky. I had looked up at the wall, where my eyes had gone all evening -- it's a loft with exposed beams, and I like studying how the place is put together -- and suddenly had the thought that I was so calm and confident, not at all like I expected myself to be. I was asking for what I wanted with only a fraction of my old nerves. The next thing to run through my head was "I've been me for, what... eighteen months, now?" I didn't realize where that train of thought was going until I got a surge of panic and thought "...what the hell am I doing?"
I have been to three of these parties, now, and fell off the edge of myself after each one. With the other two it happened the next day and in the car going home, respectively; I guess the reaction time has now shortened to the point that it happens before I leave the party. Which was actually good, as the host pointed out -- it meant that I had some support. I spent maybe five minutes trying to get a grip on who I was before I heard my previous partner ask me how I was doing, and when they didn't get a response, I got another inquiry of whether it was okay if they sat down next to me. I had to tell them that I didn't know whether I wanted to be touched, but I said it was okay when it was offered. And that was what I needed; that particular person made me feel safe and cared for, and that eased my panic enough that I was able to find Sam again, and ground myself. I explained that I had fallen off the edge of myself, and they said "oh... you fell out of your window." I'm glad it made sense to them.
We were joined by the host a little while later, who also rubbed my back after giving me a blanket, and they got me back on a reasonably even keel. I was tremendously grateful to my new friend for sticking around and taking care of me. (I gave them my card earlier, because they have a garden issue I might be able to help with... I really hope they call.) When I drove home I was shaky, and I could tell my executive function had bad timing on a couple of cylinders, but I was mostly okay. I did feel like I was missing a step in the rebuilding process, but it turned out that all I needed to do was reassure Amy and calm her panic, and then I stopped slipping out of myself. Today I'm groggy and tired, but definitely me again.
I have a bit of a crush on that particular person now, but I am consciously separating them from the feelings I'm having -- they're representative of the kind of person I want to be around and with, and I trust that there are others, if I can find them. I don't actually know this one person terribly well, and I don't have to cling to them. I can take that profile, however -- what I like about them -- and look for it in others, and maybe target my search for people a bit better.
I'm modifying my attraction criteria a bit; while before I said I was attracted to masculinity, I think I'm actually attracted to a specific mix of masculinity and femininity, which makes for the soft-masculine attitude often found in butch lesbians and trans men. It lacks the edges of toxicity and entitlement which I could see in the cis men at the party. I've met a few cis men with that mixture, too, but generally they've been more self-aware or sensitive (and stigmatized for it) than the average male population. A lot of men are not accustomed to expressing deep compassion.
That contrast was evident to me during the party itself, when my partner and I chose a place on the floor that happened to be next to where one of the cis guys was sitting in an armchair. While he was helpful once (by fetching my water bottle, which was out of reach for both of us), I was aware of his eyes on me the whole time we played; in itself that was fine, I don't mind a bit of voyeurism, and the proximity was simply a matter of the available space. What tipped it over into "sigh" territory was when my partner went off to hit the bathroom or get some supplies or something afterward, and our audience leaned down to ask whether I'd be interested in cuddling. Again, not objectionable, it was perfectly reasonable to ask. What struck me was his look when he asked, and the way he shifted as I replied -- he hadn't expected me to refuse him, he was shifting to get up as soon as I spoke, and he was disappointed because, his eyes had said, he now found me very sexy and he wanted to get in on some of that sexy action. I was now a sex object. It's that kind of unexamined mental process -- the shift from "a person to have small talk with" to "oh, now I see how appealing you are when you have sex, I want some of that" without any consideration that I might not actually want to have sex with *them* -- that prompts a sense of resigned disappointment in the average play-party attendee or bar crawler. And kind of a creepy feeling at being ogled.
Obviously some of my attraction to soft masculinity comes from a desire to avoid that entitled attitude. I'm still unpacking how much of the rest of it is a matter of "I want to be that" rather than "I want to be with that". It can be both, of course, and I think there's a significant element of tribalism at play. I want to be with those people because I feel like I belong there, and when I'm comfortable I feel more attracted and attractive. But I was aware, even at the time, that I was attracted to my partner at least partially because they were very much the kind of person I would like to become.
My observations have strengthened my sense that the spaces I should be seeking out are trans-masculine and trans-man spaces, with maybe a butch enclave if I can find one (particularly with members who aren't out of my comfortable age range). I think I'll still find friends in self-introspective spaces, but if I want a sense of community and romantic/sexual opportunities, finding those soft-masculine spaces will probably be key.
For right now, though, I'm still really hoping the person from last night will call. :)
