What's that coming over the hill, is it a monster? Is it a monster?!?
No. Only me. Although, as the days pass I am starting to feel that I must be some kind of monster or a seething cauldron of bunny-boiling crazy or something. [I'm neither by the way.] I am needy and I don't know how to hide it. I wear my heart on my sleeve and sometimes I must positively reek of desperation. I scare men, I think. On one hand I scare them because I'm so desperate for love; on the other hand I scare then because I'm a transwoman.
I don't know what to do. I have nobody to talk to: I can't talk about this kind of thing with my dad - he's a man ffs!: I can't talk about it with my mum because she's not interested. Writing this is like talking to myself in a way and sometimes seeing it on the screen helps me to sort out some of the nonsense that flits through my mind. I'm lonely. I want a life partner. I want my life partner to be a man. I want that man to be girly and like wearing girly clothes. Because when I let myself out to play I'm girly too, but there's an element of trollop [The band wasn't called 'Les Catins' for nothing!].
At the college of nursing the lads [there was a very high intake of Irish students and everybody was 'the lads' - male or female] used to call me the Scottish Slapper Bitch From Hell.
Scottish: self-explanatory
Slapper: I would trawl the gay joints in London whenever I could looking for a girlfriend and I wasn't averse to flirting outrageously with guys either
Bitch: if I was crossed my vengeance was swift and decisive
From Hell: just sounded kinda cool!
I've been with 37 people since I had the operation. My wild days are well and truly over though. I know exactly what I want and (arguably) need, but I still can't work out how to find him.
What's that coming over the hill?
Wit's End. And that is where I currently am. Will someone, somewhere please, please, please tell me where I'm going wrong?!?
