Ask Slutever, AKA Ask Bunny (Part 2)

Bunny: So beautiful I could puke

Bunny is in New York at the moment! Yay! We’ve been having LOADS of fun staring at our respective laptop screens in close proximity. Yesterday he took a break from Googling pictures of syphilis and writing letters to prison inmates to answer a couple of your pressing questions. You can read Bunny’s last Ask Slutever contribution HERE.

Dear Slutever, My boyfriend is friends with a female to male tranny couple. I of course have no problem with this. However, he thinks I’m being a total bitch and nosy for asking how they fuck each other. I would never ask them this question for fear of offending them, but I often ask my boyfriend if he thinks they use strap-ons or if they still utilize their vaginas and tits. Since they became men with the hope to date other men, but are still dating women, technically, I’m not sure the logistics of their fucking. What do you think? Annie, Berlin

Bunny: As a pre-pubescent gender ambiguous college freshman majoring in “Women’s Studies”, I was actively recruited during orientation week to join this GLBTQ club in which pretty much all of the friends I made there were transgender because they all initially assumed I too was transitioning–from female to male (lol). I have fond memories of those times: vegan barbecues, breast binding, Sleater-Kinney fanzines, hormone injections, bike rides in the park, etc. In fact, a candid shot of me walking arm in arm with several shirtless FTMs showing off their top surgery scars during the 2005 annual Boston Dyke March was featured on the cover of a free weekly queer newsletter under the headline “TRANNY BOYS TAKE PRIDE”–my first modeling job! The point is, hanging with peeps like these at such a young age totally enriched my understanding of just how broad the spectrum of gender and sex can be. While some of my friends exhibited the traits associated with one gender but had the physical body associated with another and were seeking to rectify that difference, others identified as something less defined and more unique–either between male and female, or completely outside of that binary. And just as can be exemplified by the fact that your friends are two FTMs dating each other, being transgender at no point designates a uniformity of tastes or turn ons with regard to sexual orientation. Girls, boys, bodies, whatever. It’s personal, yo! 

Amongst the FTMs I knew–those friends of mine who were specifically transitioning their bodies from female to male–some had undergone the aforementioned top surgery–a bilateral mastectomy in which the breasts are removed and the chest is re-contoured to look like a male’s–while others bound their breasts down. Some had begun hormone replacement therapy, by which male secondary sex characteristics develop and thereby allow the person to more inconspicuously “pass” as the gender they identify with, and some were considering having full sex reassignment surgery, which involves a hysterectomy and a genital reconstructive procedure–either through the use of hormones to enlarge the clitoris, or via a skin graft and surgical insertion of an erectile prosthetic. Amongst these friends, all of them frequently reiterated how psychologically necessary it was for their physical bodies to match their gender identity, while other transgender people I knew were content to remain somewhere more ambiguous without the surgical modification of their body. Again–personal!

So, in figuring out how your friends fuck–well, first of all, it’s possible that one or both of them have had a complete sex reassignment surgery and therefore the logistics are less difficult to imagine. But what’s more important to acknowledge here, and the more likely reason they could potentially get offended if you ask them straight up is that, while your curiosity is in earnest, it inherently presupposes the heterosexist assumption that sex is only legitimate or “real” when it is, simply put, a dick in a hole. Just as our individual identities are ever open to new constructions and configurations, the way we get off with each other physically is open to infinite interpretations and executions. The only right way to do it is to do what feels right. 

Pics @ Kristin Vicari

2. I’m 21 and virgin. I live with a girl who always wants to swap war stories from failed relationships, and whenever we delved into the topic of sex I always gave non-committal responses that implied I was more experienced than I actually was. But tonight she asked me point blank if I’d had sex before and, having always been a shocking improviser, I panicked and told her the truth. I could see the laser beams of judgement shoot out from her eyes onto my forehead! The thing is, I’m not writing to you for advice to get laid, though I clearly need it. What I’m writing for is advice on not giving a shit about what other people think, because it’s what bothers me the most. Deep down, I think I’m okay with it – being a mega virgin – it’s just on those depressing few days when you’re confronted with your reality by other people that you go into a manic hysteria that eventuates to hyperventilating and writing to a person on the internet. Clara, NY

“Giving a shit” and “being judgmental” often go hand in hand. They are also, as far as I’m concerned, two of the least attractive qualities a person can exhibit when it comes to the way he or she behaves socially. I’m not saying you have to stop bathing and start donating money to NAMBLA as a means of proving how non-judgmental you are, but when your roommate judges you, it’s because she gives a shit, and is therefore probably just as insecure as you are. Take note! 

Everyone feels insecure and stuff, but I find that insecurity can be mitigated with a healthy dose of self-critical reflection and honesty. When you stop pretending to be something you’re not, you feel better and forget why you cared so much that you had to lie in the first place. If, however, you’re still edging towards hysterical shit-giving about what she thinks, consider first that you may be misreading her facial expressions and she’s actually just stoned and thinking about nothing while staring into your forehead. If so, get a grip. 

But if she is indeed still laser beaming you looks of disgust and confusion like your face is the “Fashion Police” page in an issue of Us Weekly–it’s time to tell her to get the fuck up from the high school cafeteria table of futureless bitches and move on with her boring life. In order for someone’s opinion to count with regard to the way I live my life, I have to respect what they say and think and do in the first place. Not only could I not give less of a fuck that, say, a group of frat bros at that BU party back in 2006 called me a “skinny jeans wearing fag”–I remain similarly unaffected that it’s now 2011 and they’re all attempting to stuff their giant thighs into the very same pair. Life is stupid like that.

So: Do you respect what your roommate thinks? Is her presence necessary in your life if it is only there to make you feel inferior? If not, it’s time to pack up and find some people to surround yourself with who will make you feel totally at ease for being exactly who you are–that is, a big virgin. I hear purity is in next season, anyways.

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