Copy of a Risky Glosso Post
"Wouldn't it be easier to stay a straight woman?" / Why I decided to become a man even though I still wanted to be WITH men
In honor of the last weekend of pride, have a screenshot of a horny diary entry I wrote a few weeks ago about a guy I’m already over, I think (I know, don’t laugh).
People are sometimes really confused about why I would want to become a man myself, if I’m still romantically interested in men. “Why not just stay a straight woman then?”
But...
The way that I love men romantically and sexually is totally interwoven and inextricable from the way that I am, and want to be, a man myself. I love them because I love masculinity; I want them in a masculine way. When I love a man, in some sense it is about my love of masculinity. And my love of masculinity is intertwined with my fundamental predisposition to embody it. The causal arrows go in all directions, and one of them goes like this: It’s because I love men so much, that I became similar to them. If I tried to make myself not similar to them, it would be castrating my love for them.
There is a real sense in which I loved men so much that I decided to become one. And there is also a real sense in which being a man is why I love them so much. It’s a chicken and egg thing. They’re one unified phenomenon.
I don’t think I have a hardwired “type”. I’ve gone through phases where I’ve pursued just about every genre of guy you can imagine. For a few years I would always go for scrawny nerds. For a few years it was old guys. For a while it was twinks and femboys. In recent years it has been big hairy masculine “trade” looking guys, though periodically I do find myself seeking out really chiseled bodybuilder types, especially when I’m on a lot of T. For the past >five years I’ve been almost exclusively the top+dominant, and I do feel like that role is more aligned with my nature, but even when I was the bottom I’ve extracted joy from that. At this point I feel like I’ve lived almost every life, with respect to the type of men I pursue and the role I play in my relationships with them. But the one consistent thing, since I was a very young child, is that it’s always men that triggers the deepest yearning of my heart.
Duncan Sabien once wrote that he hated developing a sexuality because it was like an alien urge that got slapped on top of his existing interests, and his sudden interest in [some guy’s penis] felt like an urge biology nonconsensually grafted onto him. His interest in [some guy’s penis] had nothing to do with the stuff he already found cool.
I am the exact opposite. The things I find sexually and romantically desirable are so deeply interwoven with the things I find philosophically compelling, the things I find cool, the things I find moving and inspiring and righteous, that I don’t even know where one ends and the other begins.
The world is so beautiful it regularly takes my breath away. And when that happens it’s ideological and sexual and romantic and philosophical and moral all in one.
I feel an almost painfully deep love that takes my breath away when I look up at the huge cell tower that dominates the horizon everywhere you go in my neighborhood. It’s the same feeling I get when I look at a beautiful virtuous man with the right political opinions. I feel it sometimes for the construction workers and the snowplow drivers muscling my city into a more productive and efficient shape. I feel it for things that are big, things that are strong, things that showcase human determination and dominance. I believe in our ability to create abundance, and I believe in capitalism, and I love the things that visibly drive it, and all of those philosophical beliefs fit perfectly hand in hand with the things I find sexually and romantically inspiring. I feel a very similar love towards a beautiful man that I feel towards a big lifted truck. I love things that display the muscle of our species, the strength that allows us to dominate nature and build a better world for all.
I was always sexual, almost from as early as I can remember, but when I went through puberty and my sexuality blossomed fully, it just made me more myself. It gave depth to everything I already believed and loved.
When I was 17 I was standing in an enormous expanse of open field in Kansas watching a massive thunderstorm roll in and threaten to engulf me. I thought about the dust storms on Mars and how we would one day colonize it. And I thought about how Mars will fight back against our efforts, but we will ultimately win. And I wrote a poem about being engulfed by the storm, which I personified as the spirit of Mars - surrendering yourself to it so it can turn you inside out and make you stronger. In the poem, the human is the submissive and the storm is the dominant, and in some abstract way it’s erotica. But in the back of my mind I thought maybe one day, in some spiritual sense, I would be stronger than the storm.
That was when I was a straight woman. I didn’t really know what I meant, when I vaguely thought “one day I will be stronger.” Anyway, the years passed and I figured it all out - how to be a man, how to be a dominant, how to be bigger in some spiritual and intellectual sense, how to dominate nature - and I achieved it all. All the disabilities nature saddled me with are destroyed now. I won. Anyway, there’s a part 2 of the poem with the roles reversed that I still have to finish.
I guess this turned into its own post, not just a screenshot of a diary entry.
I’ve been horny posting a LOT lately, wow. Probably I will give it a break eventually. I’m going through a phase, ok?
(And before you start, I don’t want any woke leftists giving me shit about how I conflated “straight” with “not a bottom” in the last part of that diary entry. I know they’re not 1 to 1 correlated. Let’s not pretend it isn’t a safe assumption nevertheless.)
