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#gay older
mrmousetolliver · 19 days
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Nick Wooster photographed by Sophy Holland for Out magazine.
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noelledeltarune · 7 months
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EVERY SINGLE DAY there are MILLIONS of characters in their late 20s who get falsely accused of being father figures to teenagers when in reality the description of "weird older cousin" or "step-sibling that moved out before you were born" is 1000000x more apt
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tjpunkchef · 4 months
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50, Trans Questioning
Since my last post here, I have continued to question everything. Am I trans? Am I a crossdresser? Why do I have a stigma against just being a crossdresser?
I think I may be beyond being just a crossdresser though. I do want my body to change, not just in the styles of fabric that I drape upon it. I have always wanted a vagina. I used to think it was because it would be easier for another queer man to penetrate me, but over the past few years, I have just felt that I am missing a vagina where one absolutely should be. Since trying on clothes gendered toward females, I have a desire to have bigger hips and a more defined waist. I've searched ways to achieve this without HRT (exercise, diet, contouring shapewear, etc) and plan to start trying to see if I can make this happen. I've been pushing my waist in with my hands while I stand in front of the mirror and I truly love the way my hips look and feel.
I am not against starting HRT. I just know that is not an immediate possibility.
Now, I also find myself picturing myself with breasts. I like the way I look with small boobs filling in the dresses and t-shirts I've worn at home, when I am alone. The small man boobs that I currently have (due to my "dad bod") fall together just slightly when I lay on my side; I push them closer with my shoulders to form a bit of cleavage. I like the way it feels.
I've been listening to a lot of trans podcasts, reading a lot of articles about other people discovering they are trans, and finding other trans women my age on social media to follow. I have taken my measurements and now look for ways to dress my box of a body. I look at and shop the womens sections at box stores and online.
I am wearing female gendered underwear under my male gendered underwear most days of the week. I ponder if I were to transition, what I would do with my bald head. I imagine what my "style" could be. I dream of working a hybrid or remote job so that I can continue to explore wearing garments not marketed toward male bodies more days of the week. I think about how and when I will talk to my wife about all of this.
I am scared. I am confused. I posses an unexpected amount of excitement. I am listening to myself for the first time in a long time with some clarity. I am not pushing these feelings away. I am scared.
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chernozemm · 7 months
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want runs deep in you, heavy and thick, and the dam is creaking under its weight.
want is like dust, thousands of years worth of dust on your heavy shoulders and you dare not move. if you stay very still and keep to yourself maybe no one will notice.
want is like grief, love left unclaimed. want is like hunger and you are famished.
wanting is dangerous, so you smother it.
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blueskittlesart · 1 year
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literally obsessed with kanji. finally a good character for me to latch onto
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rinmemesuoka · 5 months
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you can be gay in the big major developer farm sim games now so indies are gonna need to start putting some fuckin butches and milfs and fat people in their romanceable cast like come ON. I can gay marry a skinny femme 20-something in story of seasons in fact my ONLY options, typically, are skinny femme 20-somethings. i shouldn't be stuck with 9/10 skinny femme 20-somethings and one "mature" bachelorette with maybe one visible wrinkle (if any) in indie games of all things.
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shalpilot · 5 months
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a lil self-indulgence tonite
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satelliteduster · 1 year
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oh my god i forgot to post my absolute favorite strip from gay comix (issue #2, 1981)
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inkskinned · 9 months
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you're grabbing lunch with a nice man and he gives you that strange grimace-smile that's popular right now; an almost sardonic "twist" of his mouth while he looks literally down on you. it looks like he practiced the move as he leans back, arms folded. he just finished reciting the details of NFTs to you and explaining Oppenheimer even though he only watched a youtube about it and hasn't actually seen it. you are at the bottom of your wine glass.
you ask the man across from you if he has siblings, desperately looking for a topic. literally anything else.
he says i don't like small talk. and then he smiles again, watching you.
a few years ago, you probably would have said you're above celebrity gossip, but honestly, you've been kind of enjoying the dumb shit of it these days. with the rest of the earth burning, there's something familiar and banal about dragging ariana grande through the mud. you think about jeanette mccurdy, who has often times gently warned the world she's not as nice as she appears. you liked i'm glad my mom died but it made you cry a lot.
he doesn't like small talk, figure out something to say.
you want to talk about responsibility, and how ariana grande is only like 6 days older than you are - which means she just turned 30 and still dresses and acts like a 13 year old, but like sexy. there's something in there about the whole thing - about insecurity, and never growing up, and being sexualized from a young age.
people have been saying that gay people are groomers. like, that's something that's come back into the public. you have even said yourself that it's just ... easier to date men sometimes. you would identify as whatever the opposite of "heteroflexible" is, but here you are again, across from a man. you like every woman, and 3 people on tv. and not this guy. but you're trying. your mother is worried about you. she thinks it's not okay you're single. and honestly this guy was better before you met, back when you were just texting.
wait, shit. are you doing the same thing as ariana grande? are you looking for male validation in order to appease some internalized promise of heteronormativity? do you conform to the idea that your happiness must result in heterosexuality? do you believe that you can resolve your internal loneliness by being accepted into the patriarchy? is there a reason dating men is easier? why are you so scared of fucking it up with women? why don't you reach out to more of them? you have a good sense of humor and a big ol' brain, you could have done a better job at online dating.
also. jesus christ. why can't you just get a drink with somebody without your internal feminism meter pinging. although - in your favor (and judgement aside) in the case of your ariana grande deposition: you have been in enough therapy you probably wouldn't date anyone who had just broken up with their wife of many years (and who has a young child). you'd be like - maybe take some personal time before you begin this journey. like, grande has been on broadway, you'd think she would have heard of the plot of hamlet.
he leans forward and taps two fingers to the table. "i'm not, like an andrew tate guy," he's saying, "but i do think partnership is about two people knowing their place. i like order."
you knew it was going to be hard. being non-straight in any particular way is like, always hard. these days you kind of like answering the question what's your sexuality? with a shrug and a smile - it's fine - is your most common response. like they asked you how your life is going and not to reveal your identity. you like not being straight. you like kissing girls. some days you know you're into men, and sometimes you're sitting across from a man, and you're thinking about the power of compulsory heterosexuality. are you into men, or are you just into the safety that comes from being seen with them? after all, everyone knows you're failing in life unless you have a husband. it almost feels like a gradebook - people see "straight married" as being "all A's", and anything else even vaguely noncompliant as being ... like you dropped out of the school system. you cannot just ignore years of that kind of conditioning, of course you like attention from men.
"so let's talk boundaries." he orders more wine for you, gesturing with one hand like he's rousing an orchestra. sir, this is a fucking chain restaurant. "I am not gonna date someone who still has male friends. also, i don't care about your little friends, i care about me. whatever stupid girls night things - those are lower priority. if i want you there, you're there."
he wasn't like this over text, right? you wouldn't have been even in the building if he was like this. you squint at him. in another version of yourself, you'd be running. you'd just get up and go. that's what happens on the internet - people get annoyed, and they just leave. you are locked in place, almost frozen. you need to go to the bathroom and text someone to call you so you have an excuse, like it's rude to just-leave. like he already kind of owns you. rudeness implies a power paradigm, though. see, even your social anxiety allows the patriarchy to get to you.
you take a sip of the new glass of wine. maybe this will be a funny story. maybe you can write about it on your blog. maybe you can meet ariana grande and ask her if she just maybe needs to take some time to sit and think about her happiness and how she measures her own success.
is this settling down? is this all that's left in your dating pool? just accepting that someone will eventually love you, and you have to stop being picky about who "makes" you a wife?
you look down to your hand, clutching the knife.
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uncanny-tranny · 4 months
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Not a day goes by where I do not think about the advent of medicine like PrEP and wonder just what the people - especially queer people - who passed from HIV/AIDs during the AIDs crisis would think
And then, I read this survivor's testimony and it just makes me emotional. I think this is the closest answer we have. HIV has changed, and we must always remember the people who didn't see that change before it happened.
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private85 · 3 months
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ineadhyn · 5 months
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As someone who turns 30 this month one of the many things I like about Baldur's Gate 3 is that it normalizes finding love later in life.
Everyone around seems to get married and starts families, but it's okay. Gale has gray strands in his hair and is single after an intense relationship. Halsin is middle aged even in elf terms and has had myriads of lovers but no-one to settle down with. Astarion did not have the freedom to find himself and therefore love for almost all his life. Minthara has been too devoted to her job/cult for 200 years. Karlach and Shadowheart are at least in their late twenties.
It's fine if it hasn't happened yet. The right person just has not been tadpoled by now.
(Edit: I know now Shadowheart is at least 40. Thanks for clearing that up)
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tjpunkchef · 5 months
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Oh my...
I honestly do not know what compelled me. I don't know why it happened today. I just know that it did.
I am alone for the holiday. My family is away and I have stayed behind. I was feeling under the weather but I also just needed a bit of alone time. I've spent the past few days in a NyQuil coma and have watched a few movies.
I awoke this morning feeling better. After taking a shower, I remembered that I have wanted to revisit something I haven't done in a few decades. I went to the drawer and pulled out an older pair of womens underwear.
Over the past few years, I have been dealing with questions of gender. I know I'm queer. I know I'm pansexual. I have come to terms that I am non-binary, but haven't taken too many steps to explore that more. I wear a pronoun pin at work (He/They) but don't really discuss it with anyone. I have also realized that I would like to have a vagina where my scrotum is. I've researched this and daydreamed about having the surgery. I'm not sure that I will, but I do think about it a lot. In a way, I have truly felt more like a transmasc man than a non-binary person. I don't know why, but it has been the best way for me to describe to myself how I feel. I don't know what that means and haven't been in therapy long enough to breach my questions of gender.
What I haven't thought about were the times that I have worn womens underwear. It has only been a few times over the span of my almost 50 years. The first time I was a child. My sister and I were in our bedroom and I asked her to trade underwear with me. She wouldn't so I went into her dresser when she fell asleep, pulled out a pair, and went to the bathroom to try them on. They were light blue, cotton, and had some sort of design on them. I wasn't worried about any of that. I just had to know how they felt on me. I can vividly remember pulling them up my legs and feeling them rest snugly against my buttocks and front side. I remember how wonderful they felt compared to the white boys briefs I was accustomed to wearing. I then remember my mother busting into the bathroom after my sister had woken her up to tell her what I was doing. I was made to feel ashamed of what I was doing. I was told that boys don't do those sorts of things. I was told to never do this again.
Approximately 15 years later, I did do it again. At the time I was dating and living with an older man. He was 20 years my senior and I myself had only 20 years under my belt. I don't know what came over me that morning. He was at work, I had the day off. I hopped into my car and went to the closest discount store. Nervously, I stepped into the womens department and quickly walked to the rows of panties; some neatly folded, others hanging on a large display wall. I didn't know what size I might need, so I found a nondescript black pair with no frilly stuff that looked my size and added them to my cart. This was a time before self checkout lanes, so I found some other items to put in the cart to hopefully distract the cashier from noticing that one of these things were not like the buyer, but I probably gave everything away with the sweat pouring from my brow and the nervous small talk that I tried to engage them in. Nevertheless, I made it out of the store and headed back to our home. Once I arrived, I bolted into the house, undressed, and pulled the fabric up my legs and over my buttocks and genitals. I had only known of what tucking might be from watching Silence of the Lambs, so I awkwardly pushed my genitals back between my legs and stood looking at myself in the mirror. I remember feeling good, but full of shame. I remember being transported back to that bathroom as a kid and hearing my mother scold me. The same mother that asked me to keep my voice down when I was asking for her help after a former boyfriend had assaulted me. I removed the panties from my body, and put them in a bag of miscellaneous items to hide until discarding them a year later when I met a woman that I would end up marrying at the age of 21.
Almost 30 years later, married for a second time, with kids, a job, a mortgage, the desire to try on a pair of underwear that wasn't gendered toward men came to me again. It's been in the back of my head for months, but in a passing way, not something that if felt I HAD to do. As I was drying off from my shower, the thought popped into my head again and I allowed myself to be open to it. I walked over to the dresser and found a pair of black panties. I did not think they would fit, but decided to go ahead. I pulled them up my legs, feeling the fabric grab at hair along the way. When I reached my midsection with the garment, I stopped, did a proper tuck, and pulled them up to secure everything in place. They felt nice. It wasn't an Earth shattering moment, but I didn't feel any shame. I felt normal.
It was at this moment that I saw a bra in the drawer. I have never tried on a bra. I have never had the desire. I'm not sure why I reached for it and slipped it over my chest, but I did. It did not look weird, it did not look out of place, it did not look bad. It felt good. I rubbed the fabric over my chest, i felt it move back and forth over my useless nipples. It felt good.
What followed was more than an hour of me trying on womens clothes from our closet. I have never had a desire to wear womens clothes. I loved how I felt in these garments. I had moments of audible gasping as I looked at myself in the mirror. I had feelings that I can only describe as euphoric. I kept saying "oh, my" , in shock of how I looked and felt, the rush of feeling new, and pretty....I felt, pretty. I've never wanted to feel pretty, but I felt pretty today in skirts and blouses and dresses, and I really liked it.
I was turned on wearing the clothes, but it was in a way that I haven't felt before. I wasn't purely sexual, although I did have an erection for a while and kept pulling the dresses and skirts up to show my imaginary masculine suitor the panties underneath. I wanted them to see how cute my flat pubic area was and how cute my belly looked in the full coverage panties that I was wearing. I felt desirable.
After I tried on everything that I could, I looked in the mirror and asked myself out loud "am I trans?". I asked myself over and over again, but the answer did not come. "Am I just a crossdresser?" followed. I didn't have the answer to this either.
I have to wonder if this was always there and I just never allowed myself to even think of donning a female gendered wardrobe. I have to wonder if not understanding what transgender is has stunted my looking into whether I could be myself. I am still unpacking all of this. I am also researching sizing and planning to go to a thrift store tomorrow. I don't know if I will purchase anything, but I want to. I also want to talk to my wife. She asked me if I was trans once before. I answered no, but told her that I have always wanted a vagina. I had never told anyone else that before (still haven't).
If anyone out there has gone through the same emotions, scenarios, etc. and has some advice or guidance, I would love to hear from you. I will have an interesting appointment with my therapist this week.
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thebreakfastgod · 2 years
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when I see queer adults in public im like look at me. look at me. look at me. do you see me? i see you. please recognize me
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