Search the Community

Caution: Some personal stuff concerning sex and sexuality is in this post. The reason I post it is for my own thought process, and with the idea that it may prompt other guys to go get tested if they're having problems. That said, here we go. I'm not very evolved when it comes to some things, I suppose. I fully accept that there are men out there born genetically female. That's not at issue. I don't define their maleness; my role in knowing and supporting trans folks is to acknowledge their definition, not to superimpose my own. Selfishly, this is all about me. It's about my self-perception, and what I feel I bring to my relationships with my husband and Sam. I am attracted to a very limited set of examples of the human condition; that being Cis men. People who are pansexual or bisexual confound me. Like ... they've found some secret I'll never quite discover. Some within our community call out men who are purely attracted to Cis men as being trans-phobic. But that's just not it. If I could shift my attraction to include someone other than a Cis guy, then I'd have shifted until I were straight. No Kentucky-raised kid in his right mind chooses to be gay. I'd have been just like I was "supposed" to be. So those are my limitations. I talk about this because they're important to know before getting to the rest of this post. Back late last year, I began to have trouble. Lack of desire, depressed a great many days, in a real and true funk. I felt like I was no longer the man my husband needed, and really? Well, that hurt more than anything. That's the whole reason I pushed us to open things up a bit. I wanted my husband to get laid again, even if it wasn't with me. Before anyone says "sex isn't everything," yes ... you're right. But it's very important to us; that connection is deeply critical to us as a couple. Maybe more proof of a lack of evolution. But I've yet to evolve not needing the other biological drives either. Why sex is different is beyond me. Anyway, we met Sam. The newness of him sparked things for me, and for a while I managed to stave off what became inevitable. After a few more months, I got to the point of no desire at all. Nothing. And that was so eerie. It's like knowing how delicious a bite of cake will be, but you no longer care about experiencing anything delicious. Finally, I went to the doctor. I found out I had the testosterone of a ninety-year-old man (I was forty-five at the time). He started me on the lowest dose medically prescribed of injected testosterone. Odd things began to happen shortly after I started the regimen. Within a couple of hours, the first thing I noticed was stuff was ... ah ... tingly. You can laugh. I know I did. I even looked it up, and sure enough, that's a common side effect of treatment. But ... only in guys who are actually low. The body has this resource it needed again, and suddenly it is put to work. Another nearly immediate effect, was this weird fog I had sort of lifted. It was like I had been operating at 95% as my base level for so long, it became "normal." Now things click faster, I spend less effort on complex problems. I'm back at 100%, and it feels so nice. I also began to finally notice strength gains in my workouts. Who knew that having a normal testosterone helped with weight lifting? Well, I did, but still. But what about sex? I mean, that's the big reason for getting tested in the first place. It didn't happen right away. It took a few months of my body figuring things out again. I am not exactly patient either, so my poor Doctor had to endure quite a few messages from me about it, and all the gory details. He kept telling me to "just be patient. Stop trying so hard. It'll happen." He was right. I feel now like I did when I was in my early thirties. My levels are dead center of normal range for a guy my age, and I have way fewer "dark" days. Importantly, I feel like I am, again what Kevin needs. The whole thing taught me a lot. It taught me about my self-perception, and how deeply it's tied to the physicality of my body. It taught me that there will come a time when I will have to evaluate this "What Makes Me a Man" question again, and maybe a different answer will be necessary down the line. It taught me that a relationship isn't defined by monogamy. But there's more too. A few weeks ago, while laying with my husband I asked what we'd do if something happens again, and I can't be "fixed". Kevin lay there for a bit. "We'll figure it out. We already did once, we'll do it again." Just that. Simple. Uncomplicated. Then he ruined it as he turned with a smirk on his face. "Besides, there's no fixing you. You're a wreck!" I guess, ultimately this whole experience taught me that I am indeed a wreck. Yet, my husband loves me anyway.