On Manscaping, Manhunt and More (or How to Be a Fag in Three Not-So-Easy Lessons) Part III

This post is the third in a three part series that was submitted by Al, who is a queer transman and fed up observer of local gay culture. Read the first two posts here.

Once in a rare while a seemingly decent guy did make it through to actually communicating with me more than once. At this point it should have been easy, breezy, beautiful, cover girl, n’est pas? Not so fast. Being trans may be ok with some guys, and they may have accepted my lack of gym bunny physique, but what of the other ways in which I don’t measure up? A new group of truths to disclose felt like a heavy burden.

Let’s begin by examining the average profile of one of my manhunt admirers in order to illuminate our differences. Sample: “discreet, straight-acting, masculine guy seeks same for NSA fun...” I don’t know how a guy goes about acting straight other than by fucking women, and does that really disqualify someone as queer? Wait, these guys aren’t queer, they’re gay.

The word “masculine” is another item I take to task. It is used often and I haven’t yet determined how it differs from “straight-acting.” The issue is that regardless of semantics, I am far from straight acting and not uber masculine. I can be one flaming, queeny, effeminate kind of faggot. I have been known to sashay as opposed to walk, use my limp wrist to point out quality couture in passing, and yes, I have a Hello Kitty collection (and a damned impressive one to boot). Testosterone may have lowered my voice, but I am never mistaken for straight on the phone and if you met me in person you wouldn’t need to hear that lilt as my wardrobe, complete with junior-sized girls short-shorts and tight graphic tees in my favorite color, pink, would hit you first, bitches! This is a tough one as effeminacy can be mistaken for femininity with someone who was assigned female at birth.

The aforementioned traits are in no way an indication that I’m lousy at being ftm. As if being told I’m not trans enough by other ftms for this very reason isn’t enough, I get girlified by cisfags too. Funny, I wasn’t aware that I had entered a gender contest. I only hope there’s a tiara for the winner.

A different portion of these profiles could be termed “fantasyland.” No, we’re not in Disney World and I’m not referencing fantasy football either (obviously.) I’m talking about the second line of our sample profile “in shape-gym 5x a week, you be too. 8” cut. Smooth...” Just being online and trusting that these pictures are actually of the people posting requires the suspension of disbelief, but really now, I’m supposed to believe all this? The only reason these Calvin Clones go to the gym that much, if that is true, is to get action in the steam room. Provided this is a good way to burn off calories, but it’s not going to get you in shape for the next gay games (unless they’ve added watersports). I go to my gym regularly, but really, who has that much time? Between working out and getting waxed these guys must be exhausted. Your supposed 8” aren’t going to mean a thing when you’re too tired to rise to the occasion.

Page upon page of snooty, PNP power-bottoms with mug shots of their bleached ass holes (do their mothers know those are out there for the world to see?) have left me lusting for a new site. In fact, I’d like to launch realqueerguyhunt.com, your one-stop shopping spot for real, decent guys who don’t use fake tanner, don’t go to gyms that necessitated getting a personal trainer to get in shape enough to join in the first place, and who don’t suffer from factitious disorder. And no, this site isn’t sponsored by Absolut Vodka. I’m calling all you queer guys who only have a two-pack, you scrawny emo guys who wear skinny jeans (you know you’re my faves), you truly radical and progressive types who fight against HRC assimilationists and their sterilized version of liberalism, you guys who know safer sex can be hot, you guys who listen to Tegan and Sarah, and of course you guys who don’t think what’s under my clothes makes me a girl. I know you’re out there and I bet you feel as insecure as I do in certain gay spaces.

I have a penchant for dramatic retellings, naturally, but I have met some good guys and do feel like a part of something. I was thrilled when my fag co-workers starting referring to me the way they do each other. For instance, when someone addresses the entire group they say “ladies” and if someone likes your shirt they compliment your lovely “blouse.” Ok, so some refer to their own junk as pussies, but refrain from using that term when it comes to me; discretion is a good thing. You see, faggotry isn’t simply the act of lusting after and loving other guys. It is a culture like any other whose particulars must be absorbed through various measures. This culture comes complete with its own foods (did you remember to pick up some cous cous at the Whole foods?); costumes (where did I put that Ben Sherman track jacket?) and customs (use your imagination). All cultures also have diversity; in this case I may need to search far beyond the city limits to find it.

So what would my profile on the new site read? How about this:
Headline: wicked smart, effeminate boy who used to be a girl seeks actual dates!

5’3, kinda muscular and slim, but sporting a little belly pooch. Will shave shoulders for second date. Interests: vegan baking, contemporary art, fashion, and collecting vintage Hello Kitty stationary. DDF, you be too. No BB or PNP. Post-graduate work a plus, but not required. Non-monogamy is ok, but cheating on your bf isn’t. Alternative, punk, artsy and emo guys will be given preference, as will genuine sweethearts. Interested? Email me.

*face pic required