It was the summer of 2018 and I was in my self-described ‘slut era’. I’d been in back-to-back monogamous relationships since I was 19 and now (in 2018), aged 22, for the first time I was polyamorous and a bit reckless with this newfound freedom. I was using Tinder like gay boys use Grindr, meeting lots of folks for casual sex.
Despite being on antidepressants for a good part of my adult life, I have always had a pretty high sex drive. It’s mellowed over the years – I think I am happier to be patient about waiting for more connected sex now. Back then, I had this horrible combo of a high sex drive, but never actually feeling very satisfied in sex.
Nineteen was a big year in my self-discovery journey, as it was also the year I accepted I was non-binary and asked people to start using they/them pronouns for me. Despite being “out” for a while, my ‘slut era’ was the first time I accepted that my Transness couldn’t be tucked away while I had sex, and I needed to do something about that. I was trying all sorts of things as I searched for comfort and visibility. I wanted to be witnessed in my Transness sexually.
For me, libido can be affected by a few different things. Sometimes I have a high sex drive because I’m searching for something, and it doesn’t matter how much sex I have, I feel invisible. Or sometimes, specific people make me feel so seen and safe in my Transness that I’m horny all the time for that reason, too. Wanting to have lots of sex usually falls into one of these two categories for me – and the first one is pretty rubbish.
My first few relationships were primarily with cis women who I felt didn’t particularly ‘get’ my Transness fully. I felt a lot of shame around asking them for what I wanted. I felt shame about my own body, and I was also scared about denying them of their identities.
At one point I was looking to buy a new dildo with a partner, which was a really gender-affirming experience for me. We were at the shop and I asked her what she thought about a dildo I had fallen in love with. She said she was happy for me, but that she wasn’t really interested in being f*cked with it. Neither of us were ever trying to hurt one another, but I think we were both hurting from having our identities challenged by being deeply in love, while unable to give the other what they most desired sexually.
So, we went poly. I’m polyamorous now, and I wouldn’t do relationships any other way. But back then, in 2018, I don’t think I was particularly ready. Like I say, I was very hungry for acknowledgement and I was searching for that in all sorts of places. It was a painful and confusing process, and sometimes also pleasurable and exciting.
Despite that period being messy, I don’t regret it, as the exploration brought me closer to knowing what I want. All that confusion stopped when I met another Transmasc called Des*. They were handsome and gentle and had really soft hands. They made me feel seen in ways I hadn’t ever felt seen before. They got it. We made a space where we could explore together. I felt our bodies breathe a collective sigh of relief.
Des taught me a lot. I owe him a lot. When I’m particularly horny now, I check in with myself. Is this horniness about seeking validation, or is it because I feel validated? Is it because something’s missing, or because everything is there?
I am still learning to be better at knowing myself, and only entering into sex when I feel seen and celebrated. I’m lucky to have people around me who do make me feel like that, and encourage me to keep seeking it.
*Name has been changed
Kaan K is a journalist and poet, a performer of drag and spoken word, and former gender columnist for Gal-Dem. Follow them on Instagram @dream.with.kaan
Photo credit: Delfina Carmona / Kintzing
