I'm a Lesbian Trapped in a Man's Body

Something was rotten in Denmark. People were going there to get sex change operations, starting in 1950 with George Jorgenson who, by 1952, became Christine Jorgenson. That was before my time of course, and thankfully beyond the purview of this article, otherwise I'd have to start talking about squirmy stuff like hormone therapy and castration and other horrible procedures performed by the appropriately named Dr. Hamburger. Now I've done plaster work, and I've been plastered, but I've never had anything to do with any vaginoplasty and I'm not going to start now.

But here's the thing: In the mid-seventies, I started hearing about the reasons people underwent sex change surgeries. People thought they were something trapped inside of something else entirely. Maybe they thought they were a woman trapped in a man's body. Or maybe they thought they were a man trapped in a woman's body, which you can imagine is a bit more complicated because Dr. Hamburger can make mincemeat out of a steak relatively easily as compared to making a steak out of mincemeat, which is in the purview of sorcery.

It was all these people, these tortured souls who found themselves inhabiting a foreign vessel, a vessel so abhorrent to them, so wrong, that they felt compelled to undergo a drastic rearranging of nature, that got me started examining myself. Not physically, no. I was a boy of the whole-steak variety and I liked girls. I liked girls a lot. But surely there must be something wrong with me. I must be tortured about something. Wasn't I an artist and didn't artists have tortured souls? And then I had my aha moment. It was primal. It was simple. I was a lesbian trapped in a man's body.

Oh, goody. Now I was as screwed up as everybody else and I could get a shrink and spend a ton of money getting to the crux of my unique problem. Just like the famous people do. I soon found a doctor willing to take my case, which he assured me was a very difficult case indeed. I think he was a burger-flipper trapped in a doctor's body, but he wouldn't answer my queries about it.

It wasn't that I wanted to be a woman attracted to other women. I was happy being a man, so what caused me to feel this way? To feel like a lesbian trapped in a man's body? After years of aversion therapy (it is too painful for me to give you the details—just know that it was horrible, horrible,) I finally came to the inescapable conclusion that what I was attracted to was women who did or might have sex with another woman. She just might. Maybe. If I was lucky.

Now I know many women reading this are disgusted at this notion, thinking me crude and ape-like, but I offer this in my defense: We like women so much that it is perfectly understandable why one woman would want to be with another. Furthermore, I have read that men's desire to see two women together is so common that it is shared by all cultures and peoples, and that includes everyone from remote jungle tribes to the highest levels of society. It is so prevalent, in fact, that whether or not a man desires to see two women together is an accurate indication of whether a man is straight or gay.

Still, there has to be something more at the root of this psychological conundrum. I have decided that it is this: We da man! That's right, we da man! Firstly, there is the excessive femaleness of the situation. It's like...you know...double. It's the double-mint twins, double your pleasure, double your fun. And as we stand off-camera watching this display of ultra-femininity, we know that in the end, we will be called on. Yes, we will be needed. We will be implored, nay, begged, to enter stage left and bring the scene to its rightful and shattering conclusion, because we have the...you know...the thing. And we imagine that women cannot do without the thing.

I should point out that my life right now couldn't be farther from this idea, this hope. I am way past it. Were I to make a casual suggestion to my wife I would get an iron skillet upside the head. Plus, people our age don't look good in this situation. No, this is something for the young. For the beautiful. As for my past, I will not say, but I have had my share of crushes on lesbians, some of them serious crushes. I will say that never once have I been able to make this scene happen. No, I think this is something that happens to you. The best advice I can offer is for you not to get your hopes up, be a nice guy, and have some lesbian friends. Sometimes they get curious. If the right time comes, you'll be in the right place.

Somebody's going to be there.  It may as well be you.