'Why can't you ... ?"

I just had an encounter with someone who just didn't get it. She wants to be as open-minded as they come, but she kept trying to fit me into the conceptual boxes that she has been fitted with. "You could be..." No, for this reason. "You could do..." No, for that reason. Most of the objections that she had were based on an idealised vision of how people should accept whatever they were presented with, but they were still along the lines of <... you should fit into $BOX ...> Sorry, no.

Eventually, actually my last action of this evening, was that I pointed out that I had a problem with the fact that she had been obsessing about my circumstances for the last four hours and one of her best friends had, a month ago, said. "OK," and got on with the conversation.

Gonna be a bloke

... well, sometimes. Mostly.

With the discussion with the doctor a few weeks ago, and the fact that I met someone that weekend who I really fancied, and the panic attack I had right after that, I seem to have reset myself to be male.

Previously, I would every day wish I was female, actually saying that to myself. Any time I saw a pretty woman, prettily dressed, I'd wish I was her or that I was wearing that outfit.

I haven't done that since my last breakdown; this is such a difference that I noted it and wondered what was going on. I feel no need or desire to dress myself or make myself up as female, although I feel no sense of wrongness in the idea.

I have stopped wearing the hormone patches because I had a suspicious ache in my side and back, (apparently either a muscle strain or a urinary infection, most likely a strain) but I feel no need to start back on them.

I have no clue what my hormones or brain chemistry are doing to me. I think that I should not play with them until I am clear what I actually want.

What do I actually want? Now you're asking.

A partner, female, who is OK with her partner being gender conflicted. (I am lonely and fucked up; a large part of that fucked-upness is from previous bad relationships)

Acceptance of transgendered people, not just in the either/or sense that you have to be a man or a woman, or a trans-man or a trans-woman but in the sense that 'I might present myself as male right now but I might want to present myself as female another time, and that's OK.'

I like makeup and dresses and girly things and I don't want to be boxed as a poof. I also used to teach martial arts and you really don't want to annoy me. And, I can get a car going.

I don't fit in a box. I never have. That's my problem.

This evening I had a laugh, and a minor win; A lady I met (again), trying the fit-into-box thing, said to me 'that (that you cross-dress) was the reason you liked my fishnets that time ...?' I said, no, I liked your legs, because I really fancied you, and then she reminded me of the tight dress she had been wearing. Apparently I made an impression. Press reset button, watch recalculation happen, apologise for being shit and not keeping in touch, see self being recategorised as ... something, but definitely not in any of the regular boxes, and hopefully not as 'safe'.

I am, since my last panic attack, a more confident and frankly a scarier person. A couple of times I have intimidated people who were providing poor service, the most recently in a four-star hotel, which I would have thought took some doing. I have, visibly, less patience than I had and less willingness to extend it. I think I'm experiencing a resurgence of testosterone.


EDIT: poof is a really pejorative word, but I'll stand by it, I think, as a label for how many people think of effeminate men, gay or not, who can be safely dismissed and not taken seriously.