So three and a half months after finding myself in a very fulfilling, loving and supportive relationship with a gay guy, I am about to wake up in a few days to my first Valentine's day with him. The most important thing that I realised since my gorgeous man appeared in my life: all was not lost.
Nearly four years of being single for the first time in more than a decade inculcated many insecurities on my part regardless of the fact that those four years of relationship vacuum provided me with the body and voice I've consciously longed to look at, to feel and to hear since the age of 10. Reasons were many: my inability to let go of the emotional ties with the past, being stuck in the middle of everything in terms of everything, plus my own queer community in Mongolia being trans-insensitive, trans-unsensitised, and at times, extremely transphobic. Especially the gay guys. Which was the problem. My insecurity arising out of the fact that I had been dealing with transphobia (read, from verbal derision to physical assault and everything in between) in more measure than I had asked for from late 2011 made me question my boyfriend's emotions, love and care. I just couldn't believe that the smart, independent hunk of a man would be genuinely in love with me, that he chose to be with me regardless of other hundreds, thousands, cis gay men who would be only too lucky to have him. I kept steeling my heart against a heartbreak that I thought was inevitable. No matter how much I was in love with him and wanting to believe that he was as in love with me, I kept telling myself "This is just a fad for him: the newness will wear off, he will want the men with bodies and appendages that I don't have, right now, never mind the far-off future."
Until the blowout moment of make-it or break-it realisation: my million insecurities were jeopardising and stifling the life out of our relationship. My insecurity about my body specifics, my insecurity resulting from the fact that this is my first relationship with a man ever, my insecurity about the genuineness of his feelings as opposed to the kinkiness that I thought his desire was solely, my insecurity about my own ability to be in a relationship with a man, my insecurity about our personally unimagined age difference of 17 years, my insecurity about the fact that I had only been in a relationship once before in my life where my passion for the human rights for my own community was deeply shared, my activism for my other exes being always something that they condescended at worst, or nilly-willy tolerated at best, my insecurity about the transphobia-related treatment that the gay guys would dish out to my boyfriend, led to the corrosion of the very foundation of our relationship: the unconditional acceptance of each other as we are, the unconditional choice of each other as worthy objects of love, the unconditional acceptance of the present and everything that comes with it.
Three and a half months down the line, all I can say is that I am happy. Genuinely happy. Because when I let go of my insecurities, all that I was left with was love on my part and love on his part. And I can finally say out loud "Mongolian gay men are extremely transphobic, but not my boyfriend." I am now peacefully looking forward to spending my first Valentine's with him, first of many, assuredly, as long as we continue to be fully present and aware of our love for each other.
And a small proviso, two years later, on my blog entry on advantages of dating a transman: well, transmen come in different packages, and some of us are even gay! Happy Valentine's to all who are in love, regardless of your sexual orientation or gender identity.