When I was 17, F & I fell in crazy love. We dated for four roller-coaster years, then, realizing we did sex way better than marriage, we broke up. Six months later, I vowed to stop shagging him. I needed to get on with my romantic life. (I had a decade of mostly unsatisfying short-term relationships to look forward to.) Our last time together that fall, F pulled out a brand new three-knobbed dildo that made my orgasm spill colours across the heavens. Okay, it may have been the fisting. Both were new for us and I haven’t tried either since. Likely it was both.
The point being, though we both agreed it wasn’t a healthy relationship, I still loved him and the fucking was amazing. We popped back in bed two years later for old times’ sake and came simultaneously, without speaking. That’s the kind of sex you get knowing someone inside and out.
Soon after The Last Time, I started doing drag, for kicks. Not to be outdone, F got a bad haircut, came out as trans, and shacked up with a woman. My ex went from fag to dyke. All those years I thought I’d been chewing on a Mister Big when really my mouth was full with a He-she Bar.
Since I’d been doing a woman for four years, albeit unwittingly, what did that make me, I wondered? A straight guy?
When F changed her name to F, which sounded more feminine, I went through existential mourning. I felt like I’d lost an ex-boyfriend, and not maintained an ex-boy friend. F’s girlfriend at the time told me F’s identity wasn’t disappearing, but evolving. There was continuity. An obvious, but surprising point.
F added that, if I was still attracted to her, my sexual identity would have to change. I may not have been a straight guy back then, but I certainly wouldn’t be all fag now, either. Subtly, she was hitting on me, to gauge whether I was still attracted to her.
Though curious, I wasn’t sure. I asked her what had changed sexually. Her body, she said, responded differently in bed than it used to. She experienced it differently. She felt softer, more curvaceous, less rigid, like turning 30. She didn’t perform some sex acts (like fucking with the dick I once held so fondly) and picked up a few new tricks instead (use your imagination).
With both of us recently single, I’ve considered sex with her, again and for the first time. I have a great nostalgia for her body. Always I remember how well our parts fit together, which has given me hope for other relationships, other parts, new tricks.
* Miss Cookie LaWhore is making Nasty at the Penthouse, Sun Aug 17, 8 pm, $5-10.