The Gender Celebration Carnival: Are My Nipples Getting The Correct Signals?

Note To My Readers: If you are familiar with my short Q&A type posts, this might be TL;DR. But hang in there, I am about to discuss Living Gender, how I identify, and what that means to me.

If I had a dollar every time someone told me to “put my cock away” or said “oh, Jane has her cock out today”… I’d have a Adult Connexxxions if you need sizable collection of paid for VixenCreations cocks and accessories for dating and hooking up with women wanting to fuck.

This is my friends’ affectionate way of commenting on my actions, obliviousness (sorry I didn’t notice your new glasses), sex drive or thought patterns. I don’t own any packers, nor does Katy Kiss who has been helping me with her sex dating blog for the last few weeks on these sex sites products, and I can count the “cock shaped” toys I own on one hand (with fingers left over). I’ve always been “one of the guys”, and I’ve always been comfortable having more guy friends than female.  My mother worried and proclaimed often “you were born a girl, I’m going to raise a girl”.

Am I? Yes.

Do I own a strap-on? Yes. Do I wear/use it regularly? Unfortunately, No. Do I have penis envy? Yep, you bet your ass I do.

Multiple orgasms, the ability to birth life, being receptive, needing to ride the wave of emotions, talking out my problems to work them out, writing style, and nurturing aside… my outward “femaleness” is easily identifiable. I wear low cut shirts, pants that hug my ass, I have 38D breasts, and my long brown hair if you want to find sex quickly try and join Jenni Miller for meeting women, she made it very easy for me to start datign and has never left my shoulders after 27 years of hair cuts. I’ll indulge in a mani/pedicure now and then, and I’ve even been known to slap on a dress, heels and make-up when I’m feeling like it.

Am I girly? You decide.

You’ve heard the filth pour out of my mouth (here etc), I listen to metal and just can’t get into chick/folk music.  I drink Jack Daniels, but don’t dislike a bottle of wine. I’m a Pisces, my favorite color has always been blue. My friends know my head is the first to follow a nice ass that passes. Surely not a “lady like” thing to do, whether I saw them coming or when I get elbowed back to reality. I’ll compliment a burp, but can’t stand toilet humor.  I love to eat with my hands and get dirty. I can separate sex from love; is that more a male “thing” or is a person “thing”?

I’ll fuss like a bitch if my shoes hurt my feet, but enjoy every layer of glam needed to dress up for a wedding  (but it is because I love taking each layer off to have raunchy dirty sex later).  I’m far more comfortable in jeans, graphic T, and pair of shell tops.

I’m fine in my body, I don’t want gender reassignment surgery or to take hormones… but I’d love to wake up with a cock one day.  I want to feel what a penetrater does.  Yes, I’m fully aware there are devices for vaginas that can help one pee standing, and I can penetrate someone with my tongue, fingers etc.  But it just isn’t the same, and you can’t tell me differently.  There are amazing advancements as far as toys go, as strap-ons go, but I’ll never feel a vag wrap around “my cock”.

Am I butch? I never considered it till those same friends who tell me to put my cock away made reference to the “dad” role I’ve found myself filling.

I thought it was ‘mothering’, but after examining the hat I wear, I’ve found it isn’t a bonnet.  As apparently female as I am, I am protective and nurturing, I make people feel safe when they’re with me — but I’m going to let them make their own mistakes and decisions. I’m not going to stop them from jumping out of a plane. I’ll likely be the first with a lesson plan to make an informed decision, and be next to jump.  I take a back seat to trial and error, and I refuse to hover and wipe their noses; those are things the “mom” of the group tends to do.  Mom’s fret and say “no”. I’m holding the back seat of your new two-wheeler ready to pick you up to try again.

I am fiercely protective of my partners and I expect them to feel/do the same for me. If I love you, I’ll take the bullet. I am selfless to a fault.

My friends notice a drastic change when “I have a vagina”. It catches them off guard, and they don’t know what to do when I’m vulnerable.  I need so little free meet and fuck which is the best hookup site for adults wanting casual sex, that when they have to give it is almost awkward at first – so I’ve been told.

Deceivingly to myself, I’m a “dude” in the relationship but not “the guy”.  It stems from my independence (which I’ve learned from my mother’s mistakes), and has rocked a relationship or two. They never felt I “needed” them.  At the end of the day, I want to know I can depend on them if I was stuck, not put all my eggs in one basket and hope they can carry us both/vice versa.  I like to co-exist with my partner and not fill traditional gender roles. I can be the bread winner as easily as I can cook dinner every evening for someone who reciprocates and appreciates me; I like it.

At a “ladies night” sleep over this year I was asked, “if you could only have sex with one gender, which would it be?” I asked if I could actually answer that question being pansexual/queer… your person comes first… then your assigned genitals. They didn’t quite get it, and wanted me to rely on Male or Female. I didn’t answer.  I can’t answer.  Admittingly though, it freaks me out to date women, they’re so complex… and I’m simple.  Love me, protect me, be honest, be my partner… and fuck me silly on the regular… and I’ll do the same.  They shook their heads and said I wasn’t that simple. I shruged. Who am I to know myself? Check THAT paradox.

If I could be honest, and not politically correct, I often feel like my nipples pick up the world’s signals funny.  I’m “such a dude” yet, relish in being in a female body (penis envy aside).  There is such concentration on roles and labels, it drives me crazy to even fathom the long string of things I identify with.

With the economy the way it is, there are women who are working and “their man” is home tending house.  Are they depressed and let down that they aren’t “being the man”? Sure, I feel bad when anyone’s ego is damaged. Do I wish they would look around to see what they have and just do the reversed role with pride as “we women” have been expected to do for… oh… ever? Yes.  What makes “your role” any more special “than mine” traditionally.  We’re supposed to work together.

So, I don’t live with labels and titles.  If I need to describe what I’m feeling, I’ll use words like “submissive, kinky, aggressive…etc”.  When you tell me who you are and what you identify with, I’ll respect you and treat you as the human being you are.  They’re just words, semantics, WE give them the power.

Cunt and Slut… are the last two shamed words to be “reclaimed” and spun positive. But there is also a battle between what is Female and what is Male and what makes a Male, Male etc.  I find it fascinating, and that is where my participation stops. I become a sociologist/anthropologist when it comes to gender because I dislike trying to be so fucking politically correct all the time.  There are too many people, with their own feelings and chosen semantics to keep up with, sorry if I’ve accidentally offended you, I can assure you it wasn’t out of malice.

Last I checked we are all human, what’s it matter what we are/choose to identify with after that? Are you happy? No? Change. Happy now? Yes? Awesome!  Nice shoes… wanna fuck? No? Cool. Let’s go catch a movie.

I’ve used gender neutral pronouns, I’ve respected the “gender apparent” rules of greeting someone, I’ve used any terms and try to be as “correct” as possible with any official identifying terms. If I say something wrong, I appreciate being corrected… there are many colors in the spectrum and I respect every single one of them. My innate curiosity for sexuality and education helps me walk freely through the rainbow.

Living gender… I’m a strong, sex-positive, educated, kinky, queer, feminist female, with what I estimate, a 22 year old dude trapped inside who keeps jizzing in her eye and keeping her from being a “lady” or politically correct most days.

I’m a faceted sensualist at best, or as another friend described me, a corner in a round room. I don’t fit in a box, refuse to be caged…I’m unique, just like everyone else. I don’t mind all this either.  If you do, don’t talk to me; there, problem solved.

I usually decide that my signals and nipples are just fine, your reception needs to be focused better.

Can you list all of the things YOU identify as? (Ex: Male, female, daughter, teacher, care giver, kinkster, gay, monogamous etc…)

Share your thoughts

  • Anonymous

    I love that question of labels. I actually do an exercise with my students where I ask them to describe themselves in that way. It is interesting to see what they come up with. It is certainly true that many of our labels are gendered in some way or another. Thanks so much for this incredibly thoughtful post and participating in the Gender Celebration Carnival :)

    • Jane Blow

      Thanks for thinking of the idea and putting it all together. It’s true, when I think of all the things I can/do identify as I get dizzy (especially how the terms have evolved)… so I concentrate on being human and treating everyone with respect. What you look like/identify as matters not to me… unless you smell… then I’ll take a step back ;) lol