Transmen, be aware: your vaginas may bleed if you use them for sex while on testosterone.

Honestly, I kind of have the vagina of an old woman.  Sexy, no?  Due to my low levels of estrogen, the tissues of my vaginal walls are not as stretchy, as elastic as those of a pre-menopausal woman… so they’re more likely to tear a bit during sex.

It didn’t hurt.  It felt quite good, actually!  Her fingernails weren’t long or sharp.  However… I’ve discovered that we should start using gloves to further smooth out the ends of her fingers for when we play like that.

It has been normal for me to bleed a little bit — some pinking — from fingering or sex ever since I’ve been on testosterone.  But this time it was red enough for me to be concerned — it was actually red, not pink… and honestly? I was glad she didn’t have on her glasses so that the color wasn’t as obvious to her — I was concerned that she would be concerned that she had hurt me.  But it didn’t hurt, and it didn’t keep bleeding.

So, gloves it is.

If you’re experiencing this same issue I would recommend using gloves and lube (if you’re not naturally well-lubricated like I am).  If it hurts significantly or if the bleeding seems that it continues beyond just a little bit after sex, then it’s time to start thinking about seeing a doctor.

There’s a prescription I’d very much like to try to see if it helps — the “Estring” — an estradiol-releasing ring that you insert into the vagina.  Supposedly the topical application of the estradiol (estrogen) can rejuvenate those tissues without affecting the body’s overall hormonal profile… however, that notion is still experimental and I currently don’t have the money to afford the experiment/prescription.

January 2012

I got butterflies today when she gave me a sneaky unexpected I love you!  I was taken off guard and I almost forgot to speak for a moment.

I hadn’t goten butterflies in a while.  It’s more like a full-body wag, like my soul and my insides and my tail and my ears wag with joy and excitement and anticipation when I get something from her.  She does that to me a lot.  A lot.  more than she knows, I think. 

Butterflies are that “Oh no!  Does she like me?  really? REALLY REALLY?”  Butterflies are that “Oh! Be still my fleeting heart! I think I’m in love!” moments.  It’s not that serious but it’s the unknown and the promise of love like you hadn’t felt before.

I got butterflies a lot before, and not as much now.  It’s more comfortable now, more known now — but I like the butterflies.  I like changing things up where she has me fawning over her with a fluttering heart.  I like being her dumb-struck loverboy.

Making my hand to do my mind’s bidding is something I’ve had much practice at;

still though, my mistakes fall through my wishes.

The challenge, I find, is not in not making mistakes,

but in crafting joy and beauty out of them.

I am an artist.  I have been for a long time.

I have started drawing on the covers of hardback books; the first I have completed, other than the covers of personal journals, is the one below: the back of the book “The Dream Giver.”I am starting on the front cover tomorrow.

When it has been completed, I would like to loan the book to anyone who would appreciate the story and would appreciate my art.

I would like to move on to painting murals in the near future.  If you or any person or organization you know would be interested in a custom piece of art, please let me know.

“It was an accident,” she said.

An accident.  The first time.  She hadn’t intended it to go there, and yet… it was the right time, kind of.  It was awkward, and, not sure, and…

She’s not sure if she can do it again.  I told her we’ll wait for if – or when – the time is right again.  I dearly, dearly hope that there is a time that’s right again in the future…