3 weeks ago. February 28, 2023 at 8:27 PM
My first partner in 8 years as a demisexual-
Content warning: abuse, SA, queerphobia,
I personally required writing about my first sexual partner in 8 years, However since it involves someone else, I have to be careful about what they feel comfortable with me describing. There is an orphic sapphic attraction that is entrusted between us.
I want to illustrate my mental state, thus breaking it into parts makes sense. This entry will focus on my personal relationship with sex, my body, and sexuality. I will not address my partner other than how I determine her worth or go into many specifics other than some events. I know tending to this budding relationship is unbiasedly rational. Electing to be sexually intimate for me is a big deal; this decision must be reflected upon.
I have mentioned in previous blogs that I was born female with an intersex condition. I was raised by my family to perform the male gender role and was given treatments and abusive guidance that forced me to adopt a male identity (all of which failed to take long term). I didn't know for sure I was biologically female until I was about 10 years old. although, I started questioning why I wasn't like other boys from four years of age.
An important thing to consider:
Parents shouldn’t have the right to keep that information from their children, and non-consenting Intersex genital mutilation should be a crime aside from cases where the life of the child is in immediate danger. No operations should be done without an individual's express input.
My earliest memories in life are dealing with these issues, not hard to imagine why I'm uncomfortable within my body. I doubt that will change much over time. I'm just enduring this flesh bag I am forced to inhabit since no other options are given.
My first attempt at sexuality and being intersex:
I will never forget my first girlfriend: after my first sexual experience with her, I mentioned that I was intersex, and she immediately lost her mind, yelling at me, "You're a damn H-slur, how could -- you know I only like women!"
I responded, "Can you please not call me that?" and with an emotionally shaken stutter and tears in my eyes "I am female." She called me a man and said she never woulda slept with me if she had known I was a guy, and I should be ashamed of myself for taking advantage of a real woman.
It was so traumatic that it made me paranoid that no one could ever love an intersex body. It is a quite logical assumption since until she found out I was intersex she seemed to love me. Circumstances surrounding my biology being a cis-bodied female due to a genetic condition was enough to have her go from a tender soul who cherished me to a hate-filled bigot whose anger echoed the screams at the Salem witch trials.
I was hated by my family and church for not being able to masculinize. I was rejected by my first lesbian relationship and lost nearly all my friends once I outed myself. So of course I worried that I was destined to be hated for all eternity just for breathing.
Being intersex is a unique circumstance, you're not easily placed in one category or able to explain your situation to most laypersons.
There are over 40 intersex conditions to consider, and many doctors can’t even treat you, additionally how you were raised plays a factor, also the operations and interventions which been performed (often without consent), contribute to your headspace, it even can limit what options are currently available for you to choose from in your future. Furthermore, your personal situation interacts with such core concepts as your chromosomes, phenotype, sex, sexuality, gender, and gender expression adding to the perplexing complexity known as just trying to exist in an unkind world.
The LGBTIQQAA+ community has an agenda alright that agenda is to live. We want to have the right to see a ray of sunshine and feel it warm our souls with the thought that it's a privilege to be alive. In the trans and intersex community, 41% attempt suicide, and a great many complete the task by taking themselves forever from their loved ones. The base rate of suicidality is 13.42 per 100,000. If suicide happened at the rate it does for the trans and intersex community towards the population at large, it would be the leading cause of death.
I have lost many in this battle for existence. I had been hospitalized for self-inflicted wounds in my youth. Many therapists and medical care that exists barely even offer compassion for this struggle. So what happens is often there's much peer-to-peer support and word of mouth as well as websites about the few competent medical people in existence. Imagine a world where 40 years after the AIDS crisis people still have to whisper about which hospitals and providers to avoid because they are not safe. Well, surprise it still exists how much progress so-called allies love to trumpet when there are so many dead bodies in our community we need several days to remember them all -- it doesn't have to be this way forever.
Within the intersex community, there is a discussion about what it means to be intersex. The consensus is that if you met one intersex person, you met one intersex person due to the vast range of presentations.
Due to being hurt and hating myself, I never really liked the idea of sex or being intimate. Trying to be vulnerable in front of someone often results in great pain and sadness. Add in a dash of not really identifying with your body, and you have a recipe for no sex. I call myself a Demisexual because there were people I had been with sexually that I enjoyed, but it was rare. Most sex I had when I was young was due to not wanting to be lonely.
The final nail in the coffin for casual sex was when one of my good friends in Washington invited me out to see him. I had reason to go anyway (another friend's marriage), so I decided to carve out some time for him. When he didn't get the sexual response he desired during the visit, he tried to force himself on me. I beat him down, he wasn't expecting a world-class martial artist that could easily make him look silly. Yet with tears in his eyes, he begged me to stay so he could salvage the friendship and apologize for his behavior. He then tricked me into thinking he just wanted to apologize and talk it over some tea. It was laced he ended up drugging me and violently raped me that night.
I can never forget begging him to stop, as I could barely move my limbs. He beat on me extra hard for having kicked his ass earlier. When I started crying, he told me the tears only made him harder. It was at that point that I resolved never to allow myself to be penetrated again aside from someone I 100% trusted, nor would I be able to trust anyone without clear evidence. Since If someone I knew and cared about for years could do that, how could I ever really know anyone or trust anything casually again?
While at college:
I had a couple of people I was intimate with, but I had rules in place that sabotaged any real relationship from ever growing the notion of letting my guard down -- didn’t even cross my mind.
I wouldn't let any partners touch me. I would have to initiate all contact. The sheer act of even kissing me without permission, I would tell them constitutes assault. The raw level of control when trying to physically touch me made any relationship hard, and many of my partners would often cry and complain about how unfair it was that I wouldn't even try to trust them since they didn’t hurt me. I was set in my ways. If you don't like it "leave" is what I would tell them. I was never going to risk being a victim again.
However, I also didn’t have the spirit to admit to anyone that this behavior was a result of my nerves being shaken from having been abused. So maybe if I was honest upfront then they could have at least understood my behavior but I lacked the fortitude to let people know I was a sexual assault survivor like many, I was ashamed to talk about it, and it was perpetrated by someone I knew for and had called a friend.
After college, I made a blood pact with myself that I wouldn't be sexual with anyone ever again unless I trusted them completely and without question. I was surprised it only lasted 8 years because I wasn't expecting to ever be with someone ever again. (I get so wet when I'm aroused. Guess my body is making up for lost time.)
So how did a demisexual find the brashness to take the next step with someone?
The first part of it was health-related:
Unbeknownst to me at the time, my hormone needs were changing and my body was breaking down (nearly 280 pounds, pre-diabetic, with high blood pressure, fatty liver disease, kidney issues, and bones and muscles that weren't healing after an ambulance accident, I literally couldn't support myself out of bed; I'd fall out and crawl around or hobble on crutches pathetically.)
Doctors took a long time to realize that much of this was due to hormonal imbalances, a common issue for intersex and trans people. My body's inability to self-regulate was a direct result. They worked hard to correct that after being wrong for many years. This July, adjustments were made to a different estrogen medication and the reinsertion of progesterone in my med profile. Once both changes were implemented I had immediate progress, yet unintended consequences. I started to have a cycle again and actually developed a much stronger sex drive than I had displayed previously.
Despite this, there hadn't been a single devoted sexual encounter in the last 6 months (until last weekend). The need for stimulation ended up causing me to join a local BDSM club in November. I had been a dominatrix in the past, so I wanted to have some fun to blow off steam and always found kink spaces relaxing.
Who doesn't want to hang with other perverted, free-spirited fucks? Kink is completely separate from sex for me; I will kink with anyone but only have sex with someone I adore and am in an express relationship with.
During this period, I was debating and questioning everything about myself. I allowed things I never had before. I explored my submissive side for the first time. I had always known I was a switch but never had the confidence to explore submission in the community because of the previous abuse. I just didn't trust people enough.
I also explored my body for the first time by allowing a couple of people who I kinked with to explore me in somewhat sexual ways, including: trying a fuck machine three times (had to be sure I liked it), getting my ass eaten, being tied up and suspended in the air while having knives carved along my body, having my pussy set on fire, and being beaten. You get the idea, so I decided to explore certain feelings without the burden of a sex partner to see if I could even enjoy stimulus. I enjoy quite intense situations. I am grateful for the people who were and hopefully still are willing to give me the safety to explore my body in a safe guilt-free environment. Conclusion: My body is totally fine with being female I also enjoy pleasure as much as anyone. My issues are a result of my own confusing headspace due to Chronic post-traumatic disorder and gender identity issues.
About the self-described pleasure domme and us:
One would expect there was a long courtship before they won my heart and melted the ice for Icegirl, right? Absolutely incorrect assumption!
I am pretty sure I encountered them for the first time in November when I first walked into the club, if not on a newcomers' night (went because I was new to that club and it was recommended), or the second day and they were at the front desk doing some work on their laptop in-between helping people, and I tried to talk to them because as an innately friendly extrovert, I try to be kind towards with everyone I meet. Yet they were busy and stressed and seemed to want nothing to do with me, going so far as to politely tell me to buzz off.
I was good with being brushed aside as a hyper person; I am used to people finding me a bit much. I am aware I can be distracting if someone was truly busy. I have an inner puppy style where I can be annoying to some who aren't used to managing something with ADHD that doesn't mind the condition and will often feed into the hyper.
I enjoy living life at 1000 miles an hour (1610. KM)! Only When I absolutely have to be truly calm, will I take my Adderall. I avoid it when I can because it makes me unbearably sleepy and sluggish. Depending on when I took the Adderall, it can at times compromise my ability to drive. Paradoxical reactions for the win.
She literally pretty much ignored my attempts to simply have a true conversation with her for another 4 months. I was starting to worry she thought I was a creep or something I just really felt bad since she seemed depressed and I wanted to try and cheer her up.
So how did we actually start talking:
I was asked by the owner not that long ago if I could help out by assisting a CPR class and/ or maybe doing Dungeon Monitoring, with my NREMT and WEMT certification and licenses paired with being around the lifestyle for so long can make me an asset. I loved the club and found it fun place to hang out with a cool vibe so I agreed to help in any way possible. I also felt when it comes to DM’s specifically I didn't see many female young DMs and thought it would be good to add to the diversity in representation; besides, nothing phases me, so I said let's fucking do this!
I have now DMed like 5 times (excluding 2 shadows) and been so well trusted by my captain he even allowed to help train a shadow. I played in the club before and after roughly 10 times, so in 4 months, I have gone approximately 17 times out of 32 possible times, although in the last week, I went 4 days in a row! I also helped out at a helping hands event and cleaned the club on a just all hands on deck day.
So the last four days at the club
Rope skill share, rope is the latest skill I want to add to my BDSM tool bag (while expanding on my electric experience).
A pet play event
There just have a conversation with my partner.
And finally, a shift I was working as a DM.
So for someone who also volunteers often like T at the club, we crossed paths plenty on those 17 days.
Yet last Tuesday, these were the exact words she said to me when I was just trying to get to know them. "I'm not really in a great place emotionally, and I don't think this is a great time to get to know me, to be honest."
So I figured, oh well, I tried. I had finally saw the sign as a hard please just fucking stop, and as a demisexual, I wasn't looking for anything more than to see if I could make another friend; I was ready to quit trying disheartened.
I saw a busy, stressed person who looked like they could use a friend, and I wanted to offer her my love and support. Yet she wasn’t interested. I know my actions are a reflection of myself, and many times in my life I wished people seemed to care when I was having a bad time.
Do you know what it feels like to be in the ICU bleeding to death with transfusions going into both arms, wondering if you're going to live or die? Asking yourself, "Do you even want to live?" wondering if maybe that moment is where your story is going to end.
Furthermore thinking if you were to expire, not a single tear would fall, no alarm would be raised. Yet here I am clearly alive, so I have always vowed to live my life as if it were a gift. I should only do what I want when I want it, with no exceptions or apologies.
But then something happened between us. We both attended a pet play event, neither of us in a capacity where we had to work, and luckily she had a good day and for the first time was willing to interact with me as Pikachu I went as one of my favorite Pokémon. I love being silly and fun and cutting loose. As an EMT who lived a hard life, I have a memory filled with enough tough moments. I just want times in my life that don't need serious get-sh*t done attitude is too much to ask for?
Well As we got to know each other, it turned out we had a lot in common and a possible mutual attraction. So we went to go chat during a cool-down moment for the event, and it ended up that we had spent 45 minutes alone together, and even though we both intended on helping after the cool down period, someone had to poke their head in and be like, "We're wrapping up." We were both sorry because we hadn't noticed, and since we are generally nice people, we regretted not taking the time to help.
The next day I wasn't even planning on going to the club, but she was going to work it, so I was like, "Ok, guess I will stop by on my way home from work since I would like to chat more and keep company while they work the front." They weren't technically on, but they asked if we wanted to chat more intimately, so we spent the next 45-60 minutes chatting, but my alarm went off to go walk my dog, a Siberian husky named "Sitka," she stole my bra and told me to go walk my dog and we can pick up the conversation where we left off when I’m done.
I was so angry since the conversation quickly changed to low-key physical romantic escalation. I didn't want to leave nor was I intending to spend the whole day at the club, so I do my chore and when I returned, it immediately gets turned up to 11. The anticipation of seeing each other made it feel like a magnate that just needed to collide, and sexual escalation seemed natural aside from her constantly asking for permission for every new contact. We ended up fucking hot and heavy in a glass coffin for hours publicly for anyone to see.
You might be like, "What?" You went from being an asexual demisexual to fucking in a glass coffin in front of a club with roughly 200 guests who could see you. What the hell?
Note many Demisexuals do like sex we just need to be emotionally connected first. I for one am good with sex so long as it’s not with a cis-hetero male.
Additionally, you have to thank my biggest regret for the ability to flip the switch like that Safi, the woman I wanted most in my life before this past weekend. Whom I turned down progressing our relationship sexually for foolish reasons. We dated for almost two years in high school; she was Jamaican and a diplomatic helper daughter who was there for a time helping the embassy and UN studies (I was born in New York City, so such people are not uncommon). I met her under the awning at a mall that was opening; I can still remember her looking shy and waiting for her friends, and me being my extroverted self just pranced on over and asked her why she looked so sad and lonely. To which she replied that she doesn't mean to; it was just how she looks.
Little did I know that conversation, not even two years later, was going to end up with me on the floor, mounted by her heavy kissing and petting with her grinding her hips into me, begging me to fuck her. I refused because, as much as I loved her, A had promised her father since he was letting me stay there not to fuck his daughter, B I was uncomfortable with my intersex body, and even though I had sort of mentioned it to Safi, I wasn't sure she understood fully or ever could, C I was staying there with her; what happens if her father or mother heard us? I am just randomly kicked out into the streets of Jamaica with only her friends to help house me until the return trip. I go to the American embassy and be like yeah I fucked my girlfriend and her father kicked me out can you help me get back to America my flights, not for another 5 days and I got nowhere to stay and I’m underage?
I made a promise to myself at the time: "IF A NEW PERSON CROSSES MY LIFE WHO I WANT TO LOVE, I AM NOT GOING TO MAKE THE SAME MISTAKE TWICE AND BE KICKING MYSELF OR ALL ETERNITY." Safi, I am still sorry I was only 17, and this is nearly 20 years later; I couldn't possibly make such a stupid mistake twice and turn down someone I lust for.
Apart from the obvious, how did I know? When a woman pushes you around naked in a glass coffin and then throws a chuk at you to completely fuck your brains out for 2 hours straight, you don't let a sex goddess pass you up. ( a joke I will get to the real reason in abit)
Last night I tried to explain it to her using one of my favorite scenes from Mulan:
The flower that blooms in adversity is the most rare and beautiful of all.
Shang: (looking confused)
Emperor: (annoyed at the stupid)
You don't meet a girl like that in every dynasty.
So let's go to the qualities that make her so remarkable to me:
I was such a trouble maker when I was young the school tested me for behavior disorders and intellect when they found out the issue was I was bored by the school they recommended me getting therapy and jumping grades. WHEN YOU ARE READING SHAKESPEARE IN KINDERGARTEN WHAT IN THE HELL DID THEY WANT ME TO DO -- associate with babies of course I was bored and needed the hell out of there?
I can't forget one time in first grade we were asked to read to the class what we had been reading at that moment I pulled out my knapsack Oedipus Rex (the play where a king kills his dad, fucks his mom, and blinds himself; you know what normal 6-year-olds are all about).
After all, the testing administrators wanted to put me on a fast track to 5th grade, skipping me immediately to 3rd, and moving me again if I could get my math up. My mother and family refused, saying I was so anti-social that I needed socialization with peers and that they didn’t want me to be unable to make friends.
Clearly, my mother was on drugs (note: she was a junkie) because how was I supposed to interact with these kids, most of whom were unable to form simple sentences, use grammar, or read anything more than a year or so above their level when I was already reading and writing at the college level?
It was at that moment that I made an oath: I didn’t want to ever have a serious relationship with anyone who I didn’t deem my intellectual equal.
IQ itself isn’t what matters in my view of intellect, and as I got older, I understood that general intellect isn’t the only measure of intelligence. But a person must be able to keep up with my hyper mind while also challenging me and being someone whose advice I would take as if it were my own.
In my own life, I've only met a few people with mutual attraction who were even remotely close, because being a Genius is 1 in 400, then you factor in being gay, which is roughly a 10% modifier, so 1 in 4000, and then add in the BDSM 2% for good measure, for an estimated 1 in 12,000 chance.
Now, keep in mind that this is all a numbers game, and one can fish in the right ponds by frequently visiting a BDSM club. Meeting thousands of people by being an open friendly extrovert, asking questions to see their intellect shine while concealing your own because you don’t want to be known as an erudite prude who only likes sleeping with intelligent persons.
Note I think what's hotter than raw intellect is creativity. The other day at the club one of my friends did the most creative BDSM scene I experienced in while it was perfect on the theme of the night being "at the mortuary" I even had to tell his wicked partner how lucky she is to have someone with such a talented flair for the dramatic.
Back to my partner:
She passed a threshold I didn’t even think was possible. In fact, we are both so smart that we have at times gotten on each other's nerves because we are so used to having to explain what we’re talking about as we say it.
We explain fundamental scientific, social, political, and mathematical principles. It's like, "Um, are you talking down to me?" On more than one occasion, we both had to apologize for the pattern of not having a peer to talk to. I'm literally trembling as I type this and crying from the beauty; for the first time in my life, I can have a conversation with someone without having to fucking explain everything and what it means it's so orgasmic I am in awe of the union.
So, if that's not enough of a numbers game for you, something so incredibly rare that it seems impossible has already occurred. Let's get dangerous with numbers!
I am an intersex person, and my condition starts out with a 1 in roughly 90,000 chance of occurrence. Then I am a variant that occurs in about one in three people with my condition, known as sex reversal syndrome contributing to persistent mullerian ducts, giving me a 1 in 270,000 chance. Well, since these numbers are looking at XY, let's double them for the whole population. In the general population, I have a 1 in 540,000 chance of being born. The law of probability mean that clearly, I have to occur sometimes it is also why I have been often treated like a freak of nature by the medical community. Well, This person didn’t just understand without me having to do any education because they are a graduate level biomedical engineer She was able to predict exactly who my primary care provider was and knew all about there education level and flawed knowledge in this area. With such a rare condition, there are only a few experts in the area who could even begin to treat me but she knew the person I would be funneled towards.
WHAT A OUTSTANDING SITUATION! She's like Sherlock Holmes, but with a hotter ass and a better kisser. Before I even finished talking about some of my medical situations, she immediately started criticizing the team I had and exclaimed that it was no wonder why I had been so fucked up for a while. Having to discuss actual real-world nonsense about how, after giving my provider countless reachers and even threatening her with lawsuits, I believe I have it under control. I had a real conversation with someone about my health—a conversation I never really had with a partner before because how could they understand what I am going thru.
Can you imagine to finally find someone who understands what you were going through and how complicated and lonely it is to make such gut-wrenching life-or-death decisions?
These two things alone make her irreplaceable, but I shall now list all the other things that she has shattered:
The first person I willingly let penetrate me
The first person I had sex with in a BDSM club or overtly publicly
The first person I let dominate me in anyway sexually
The first person I know has no rules in place other than no scars.
The first person I actually enjoyed having sex with
Only the second person I would willingly die for.
The first person for whom time apart is an agony that eats away at my soul
The first person I enacted the Safi rule for that (everything is a limited-time offer, don’t fear what you want, claim it).
The first person I let claim victory at a board game that I clearly had an advantage on but decided to concede anyway since I was more interested in her and sharing intimacy than continuing to kick her ass at a game she owns and literally it was my first time playing it ever (wink),
The first person I can never truly be angry with if they hurt or harm me because if they hurt me, I must have deserved it in some way, and if it pleases them in service to them, I'd suffer because I've already suffered my entire life thinking I'd never meet someone like them
So the moral of this story is that life is chaos. I had no idea the stern bitch who didn’t want to give me the time of day just 4 days ago would end up being the person I have loved and desired most in my life.
But I kept being myself. I figured she had a lot on her plate. I looked at the good, the dedication she showed to her work, the club, the diligence with which she did her work, and the passion in some of her writings and said to myself, "There is no way this person isn’t truly a beauty. She must be hurting so deeply and used to shitbags. She's got to protect her noble, generous heart."
The fact that I have this opportunity, this one chance at getting to know the woman of my dreams, is already a hallelujah. She isn’t just your flavor of the month; she’s not replaceable; there are no substitutions or refunds; she is a speck of gold found in a mound of sand. She is the type of woman who makes hell seem like paradise since you get to share some of the torment next to her, and that can lift the burdens of anyone’s essence as if a plasmatic discharge; what was once the pain is now a pleasure for the two of us to conjure.