Adventures of a Femboy Sissy Ch. 07
So, I walked out of the room.
I didn't give him a chance to tell me he was leaving town for a week, but he scribbled it all down on a note, ending with how he hoped he didn't find all his stuff thrown out on the street when he got back. The reasons were work related as his responsibilities picked up more, and that was pretty much all there was to it. Two years later, like this, we were no longer coworkers, with both us having left that job we met at, and he had landed a real good one this time. I was in between work, yet better off when it came to finances, so I was at home more. With time to think.
I remember sitting down the table that morning and just blowing my lips out, slumped on my arms, and feeling a bit of a loss, as the morning hours ticked away on the clock on the wall.
I had dealt with what he said for quite a while last night until I just fell asleep. Like typical guys, we retreated to our respective corners and just left it alone, but nothing was resolved. I suppose things were left in a bad way. I had been incredulous and kinda mean, and now, to be honest, I was feeling relieved. I felt it was good timing, his leaving town. A blessing in disguise. To give us space, right?! I rolled my eyes at myself, punishing myself with little rainbow colored zingers like that.
To sum it up, that's how my weekend started, and that's how it went for three days. With me taking a bunch of snide little jabs at myself as I tried to dope out everything that had happened and all that had been said. I didn't work it out all at once, but I did work it out. It would just be too tedious to write it all down, this mental tug of war I had going, but I'll give you a taste. Just know that I walked around replaying our exchange constantly, and wrestling with the nightmare of introspection for days.
In regards to my behavior, OK, I liked pleasuring him. More to the point, I liked giving pleasure, and considering how he wouldn't let me go into a tail spin about that being 'gay', I leaned heavily on the idea of what he said about being a 'pleasure giver'. Yeah, you know, I could live with that. That idea wasn't that hard to come by. Wasn't that hard to come to terms with.
By itself.
'Leaned heavily on it' I said. And I did. It was my first step to getting my balance back, only it continued to threaten me and come back around in a circle for days, pushing at my logic, that I was still acting like everyone had once hinted about me. I was acting gay. Pleasure giver? Yeah, sure! Cock hound is more like it! I struggled to be objective enough to admit he was right. I DID enjoy 'giving pleasure' while telling myself it was just thrill seeking. But what about the fact it was a MAN I did this with? Well, I wasn't after him in the classical sense you could call it 'gay', and like I mentioned before, attraction didn't enter in to it for us. Not very much, anyway. But...but...I liked it was him. So DID I like men? Well, why not? He did say something about bisexuality. I tell you, bisexuality is a life line heterosexual guys cling to as they struggle with perception, ego, desire and intent. I did no less.
But in speaking of attraction, what about how apparently now, he liked something about me? Something he saw in me? At the very least, he had ideas. If I was comfortable with the doing, maybe I could look the part doing it?
Here's a fine point to make, that my roommate, rather unknowingly, compounded the problem by suggesting I could look sexy, so soon after pointing out my behavior. Now, ideally, that looked like perfect timing, but I had no chance to ease into the idea. And even though it was my baggage that muddled the whole night, in all fairness, chances are things could have worked out a little better if he hadn't rushed in with that one-two punch. It was easy for him to move from one concept to the other, I suppose, for he saw no harm in it. It even made sense!
But due to my past, NONE of it was easy for me.
That's the hook. Before I was even allowed to work out the part about my behavior, he nailed me to the wall with the startling perspective that he felt I could look sexy. He just didn't know. No, this BS was mine, not his, complicated by not one, but two haunts from my past. Acting gay, and looking like a girl. All because I was too horny for my own good and chasing thrills. See how that threw suspicion on this 'pleasure giver' business? I didn't know what to think. Whatta mess.
Talk about Pandora's box!
From an emotional point of view, that late summer week in two thousand ten, the two of us being gay would have been easier, because maybe then the answers would have been more straight forward. (another ironic pun)
Looking sexy? How 'gay' was that?
I let out one big heavy sigh at that breakfast table, let me tell you, and I did the same more than once in the days that followed, wrapped up in barb wire like I was and trying to work out the knots. Another thing I feel worth mentioning here, is some thing that gets overlooked by most people, and is still alive and well today.
The 'gay' box.
You see, over the years, many a man has asked me, or outright admitted, that they don't even know what a 'sissy' is. To them, it's simple. Anything involving a male being feminine is transsexual, and to be transsexual is gay. Coming back in the opposite direction, you could reverse it. To be transsexual, you have to be feminine. And anything feminine about a male, is gay. The trick is, it's not even what's gay or not, but how these type of guys filter anything and everything through that quintessential ideal that to be 'male' is to NOT be gay. In any way shape or form. It not sexuality they're stuck on. It's identity. And how they outright feel being male is compromised by being gay or feminine. That's my point, to say nothing of heterosexuality, they think being gay changes the very fiber of who you are and how you live and you should be registered with the government or something.
I have even had these kind of men tell me, in present day, 'Why don't you just trans already and get it over with?' and 'Pick one, dude.' or 'You know, you're pretty much just a girl already'. The narrow mindedness of thinking like that actually has little to do with you being gay, and everything to do with how they think they're not. They even believe, and I'm sure I'm not the only one to have noticed this, that someone 'bisexual' is pretty much just 'gay with a flavor'. There's no middle ground. They can't conceive of it, nor do they want to try. They're like sexual line judges for a tennis match in their own heads. "Bro, your toe went over the line. That's it. You're gay, dude. Are you wearing that? Turn in your man card."
That's the gay box.
Anything that is not their idea of 'male', or even 'female', gets swept into it. Of course, most feminine males identify as female. And some of us don't. This is what I would have told me younger self. Some of us are a blend. We have a foot in both worlds. For me, personally, that's what 'sissy' is. A male with a preference for feminization and yet, does not identify as female 24 - 7. It's that simple. To the degree of what they are, and what they do about it, sure, it's homosexual, coupled with their feminine interaction with men, but it's not their identity. Not their whole identity. And you're not any less of 'man' for doing it. If anything, like I said, it falls somewhere between heterosexual and homosexual and so what if it does? Sexuality IS fluid.
There's an old saying out there, though, that would declare 'You're splitting hairs, Dana.' So what? If others can make a broad generalization of where I am supposed to fit, then I can make a refined declaration of where I feel myself to be. I am a female-male.
If it quacks like a duck, indeed.
Anyway, I am getting ahead of myself. My problem was, back in two thousand ten, I didn't know any better, either, and my gay box held all the loose ends that my ignorant little Play-Doh brain didn't know how to make room for, including how I resented anyone trying to do it to ME. My roommate hadn't done so, and even steered me clear of all that, but mine was a leftover reaction from less pleasant days in the past.
So I was do the very thing I said, and having all the very same thoughts that I just explained to you. I equated what my roommate said as being 'gay' by default. Period. Which I wasn't. No middle ground, cut and dried, black and white. So I was confused. You want me to be sexy? You're gay. I want to look sexy? I'm gay. What about being bisexual? You still like men. So, you're gay. I mean, I know about feminine men. They're trans, right? Not all of them. What about cross-dressers? They don't look feminine they just play act at it, or something, all hairy muscles and shit. That's not what he wanted is it? Guess not, but if I actually looked like a girl, isn't that gay? You can't like girls and be a girl, too! Nope, that's gay! Gay, gay, gay! Everything gay!
So there I was. That was the barb wire, and I created more paradoxes than I worked out.
By then, I was feeling there should be warning label for porn and the conundrums it can lead to. I felt I had really stepped in it this time, and ended up just as confused about myself as if this had been a textbook heterosexual situation with a girl. You could say porn viewing had pulled me in, and I acted up like I did as we started playing...but I had wanted to. I couldn't deny that fact. I did what I did because I felt like it. Something did call out to me about giving pleasure. So my first hurdle wasn't all that insurmountable, but what about the sexy part? That was my conundrum. For my roommate, the idea was even appealing, and the answer oh so simple. My chasing pleasure, and looking sexy doing it.
The real problem stemmed from how I saw no wrong in making him happy with how I was, but HE did. It just didn't 'scratch the right itch', right? When I pleasured him as myself? He didn't say he didn't like it, he just struggled with how it worked for him. So, then...he needs me to be sexy. Wants me to be? I guess, yeah, the whole 'looking sexy' thing could almost make sense in a way...but I was as touchy about that as someone making fun of me for having crossed eyes. Yet, wouldn't a pleasure giver consider their options? That's not the same thing! Looking sexy is not the same as giving pleasure. It's not? And really, isn't this all just being gay, anyway, and getting it over with? You put on a dress, and you're done!
And around, and around, and around...I went.
#####
In the end, he gave me a pretty big key to figuring it out. Or rather, coming to terms with it.
He need something more from me, and, by consequence, us. For him to match my kind of enthusiasm, he needed something that appealed to him, and he was right about that for his sake. Visual aides, remember? I guess that was something to go on. Perhaps I was over-reacting? If he needed visual aides, that didn't mean it had to classify him or I as being 'gay' did it? After all, we were already playing around as we were, and keeping any labels off of it, right? But what about how he FELT towards me? All but cementing us as a sexual item? But aren't we a sexual item according to, and by, our particular design? Our thing? He said he wanted to make it work.
If I wanted this to go on, then that's what I had to face.
Well...damn lucky for him I did, in fact, have a measure of looking the part! I'm not a cross-dresser, though, and I wouldn't want to be. So you have to think about looking sexy in a different light, here. You will actually go girl. Remember what he said about stepping into it? Playing a role?
At that point, I re-evaluated what it all meant, as far as our 'arrangement' and everything else. If he didn't like what we did, it would have been a lot easier for him to say so. He did like it. He just needed something more so he didn't start DISliking it. But this thing he was suggesting, JFC, was I really sitting here even considering it? He said I had nice legs. I felt my guts give a strange twitch-thrill at the memory, but then my thoughts wondered over to the shrewd logic he had used.
'What we're doing gets a pass in your book, but what I'm suggesting it is too gay?'
He had me there. I had myself there. Now that I thought about it, when he said I acted sincere, that wasn't a 'gay' box he was putting me in, but a means of helping me understand my attitude. Pleasure giver. All right fine. So...CAN I approach this suggestion from a different angle? What WAS the big deal anyway? I was always more sexually fluid than him. Was it really just the teasing?
Yeah.
Believe it or not, it was easier for me to face the reality of happily sucking dick, than the teasing I had suffered for being sexy. I was just surprised that he had asked me to do it. Which meant it was important to him. I liked him well enough that that, in of itself, was important. And so, with my burgeoning logic, I knew that I still wanted to make him feel good. Not just in a sexual context, but as my friend. And again, there was that little rush of how he was all but admitting to a latent attraction towards me. Certain things, anyway! And the idea of really giving him something to see wasn't all that UNappealing. That must be the pleasure giver in me. Is it really that? Well, yeah. Surprising him is fun, too.
Plus, I had been mean to him.
I'm really sorry if I belabored the point, my good people, but just imagine trying to work this out in your head. Imagine my confusion. What took you six chapters to read, was years in the making, had weeks to develop, and needed four days to finally come to terms with. Feel lucky you're just reading about it. That roller coaster metaphor I used had a lot of sudden turns, and a few times a bird even smacked me in the face on the way. Anyway, after three days of such circular arguments with myself, I ended up at an outdoor table at a Burger King, eating fries I wasn't tasting, while chewing on bigger potatoes in my head.
But that's when I had an epiphany.
Struggling around all the walls and barriers and misconceptions and perceptions about sexuality, I realized that the movies and porn we doted on each other with were the gas. The fuel that kept this thing going for us. And why? Because of women. Not just women, but what women were. He had done a brave thing in presenting this to me like he had, in the way he had, and now it clicked what he had been getting at. He needed the feminine. No wonder my performing on him as myself made him feel awkward! That's a pretty hetero reaction after all, right? This was the key to salvaging everything about us. Maybe even salvaging something about myself? Being feminine. Doing it suddenly seemed to mean something completely different after four days of struggling with the idea. 'Oral adventures' right? We didn't call THAT gay, so what about 'feminine adventures'? This COULD be a facet of being a pleasure giver, sure enough.
He had the right of it, maybe, in how we could at least see what it was like? Maybe, as a pleasure giver, there WAS something here for me to enjoy? Femininity. A performance for the ages, starring me! I wonder what it would be like? I couldn't be sure, but I could work with the idea of 'feminine adventures'. One thing was certain, though, he was the first and only person I EVER had entertained such notions with, and that's really something.
Oh, so now I was entertaining the notion?
Yeah. Why not? (Even though it felt silly to think it at the time, I FINALLY got there) I'll try and do what he asked. Sex appeal. The feminine. They were key. So was the fact I was sick of being chased by old hang ups. Four straight days of this bullshit was enough even for me, and, to be frank, I didn't want to lose what we had. I wanted my balance back. Our balance. I wanted to keep playing. I wanted it the way we had it, and the way it had been, before the past poked it's ugly little head up and started cackling. And maybe, for that reason, I wanted to try and put things behind me? That one, I know, was more relevant than I could admit. I was sick of it. Sick of all the bullshit. All the years.
So, along with my little epiphany, I was able to reverse how I rebelled at the idea of being sexy, and now, instead, pushed it back in the opposite direction, rebelling at the idea of being held to the past and all the things a bunch of shitty little brats had said to me. Fuck em'. And fuck this. How ridiculous to even give them the time of day here in 2010?
This, of course, was a little easier said than done, as I so righteously chomped on my french fries! But this thing, this idea? I'll do it my way, because I feel like it. I'll do what I want with me. And I WILL surprise him with it. Like I did before. Controlled, contained, and private. If I do this, I'll do it MY way.
Who knows, I might even like it?
...continued in Chapter 8
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