I found out pretty early in my teenage years there was such a thing as a ’sex change’ operation, and while I wished it could happen to me, I felt isolated and alone and couldn’t approach anyone. I knew my few friends and family would react badly and feared rejection, I put a lid on it, buried it deep, and tried to get on with my life in the role I had been born into.

Years later it would crop up and I would find myself in tears, reading stories in the tabloid press and wishing, or just stumbling across information on the internet . I would just shut it all out, that road lead to the top of my parents stairs, gazing down the steep flight and wishing I had the courage to end it. So I would bury it deep again and keep myself busy.

The internet did a little to break my shell, I was able to explore the draw I felt to BDSM through reading erotic fiction, pictures were ok, but written words carried so much more. I felt an empathy with the submissives depicted in the scenes (typically female) and wished I could be them. But often, the fantasy and sexual release through masturbation would all to quickly fade leaving me with an empty feeling. Something wasn’t right, and it was me.

Masturbation was the lesser of two evils, the alternate being a sexual frustration strong enough to drive all other thoughts from my mind and make it impossible to concentrate on anything. Somedays the need for release was so strong it felt like I was going out of my mind. I would masturbate as often as 6 times a day and by the end orgasm was accompanied by intense internal cramping. My body was ablaze with testosterone, and I felt powerless to do anything, days would pass feeling like my head was going to explode and I needed to scream.

I had a string of girlfriends before settled down with my partner for 11 years and having a wonderful daughter together. When she was born I wished it had been me that had given birth, what should have been the happiest day of my life was clouded by feelings of jealousy towards my partner.

Genital Sex (normal intercourse) has always been a mixed bag. To be very honest I’m not very good at it, always tended to climax far too quickly, or if by random chance I didn’t then I’d either get tired very quickly or would loose my erection.

Actual ejaculation wasn’t something I enjoyed, was always followed by an apology and left a bitter emotional aftertaste. I just felt bad for letting it happen (as if there was something I could do to stop it!) and this feeling only increased as the years went by.

For me, sex has always been about closeness, passion and giving. A deep loving relationship with lots of cuddles, kisses and sexy play is vastly more important to me than rubbing bits.

And that’s the motivation for this post. Up until a couple of days ago, I hadn’t had genital sex for 18 months, partly by circumstance and partly by choice. I don’t really know what happened or why - (maybe the last tiny bit of the old me left in my body was not willing to let go without a fight?) It was unexpected, unnecessary and totally unexplainable (for both of us) and We wont be doing it again (until I’m post-op).

What came after was guilt, disgust, regret, a feeling of being dirty. It was like the man I pretended to be for all those years had come back and taken over. It was horrible, I felt like a fake as I walked to town the next morning, like everyone was staring and seeing the shell I used to hide behind, eyes filled with contempt seemed to meet mine over and over. How I made it to work without breaking down is beyond me.

In a way it confirms to me that I’m on the right path and the SRS (Sexual Reassignment Surgery) is the right decision for me. Especially as I’ve started to discover I can reach orgasm with without, its weak now, but getting stronger :)