The Great Gayby
I've been talking about this in the Online Dating Thread since it happened, but since I've been booted into a new thread, I'll explain the situation as best I can.
I am a trans woman who still possesses a nominally functional penis. My fiancee is a cis woman with nominally functional ovaries. At this story's start, we both lived in Portland, Oregon. We met in August 2017 through OkCupid, but did not have our first real date until December. After several dates went well, we began to talk about what kind of expectations we would have for each other as serious partners. A major one for her was that she planned, sooner or later, to become a mother. Given that her biological clock was ticking, she had resolved that by the time she was 36, she would want to have given birth to a child. (At the time, she was 34.) She would not expect any decision for some time, but it was understood that any relationship that would last more than a couple years would require that I be willing to either become or at the very least date a parent. (Her plan was artificial insemination, potentially taking several attempts, becaaaaaaause...)
Because I am a stupid motherfucker, we discussed, after some months and ending up de facto living together, whether it would be safe to not use protection. Given that we were exclusive, both tested clean, and both had fertility issues (her from genetics, me from my testosterone blockers), we decided that it was safe, and any remote possibility of actual insemination would be dealt with if it happened, deciding whether to keep it or not, and how involved I would be. There were three problems with this plan. First, in retrospect it was sketch as hell that she wasn't willing to take birth control. I don't remember her reasons why. Second, that I was not diligent about taking my meds regularly because of Badbrains I was having at the time. And third, foreshadowing, she would get attached to the idea of having a fetus much more firmly than she thought.
Surprising no one who's ever seen a movie or read an E/N thread, she ended up pregnant, telling me in early April that it likely happened in early March. We began to immediately discuss whether we would keep it and how much of a parent I would want to be. I was upfront about my feelings at first: I was not ready for parenthood, and if she kept it, we would either split or at least become more casual. She came back with feelings of her own: that she had already become attached to the idea, and that she was willing to terminate, but it would sour our relationship forever. Not long later, it turned into a resolution. No, she would not let him go. This was now entirely a question of whether I wanted to be a parent or if I wanted to sign my rights away. And that's when she threw the next curve ball.
She wanted to move to Chicago. She had moved to Portland to escape her home city after a bad break up, and to be close to her sister. However, it had been a couple years since her break up, her sister was leaving the city, and she was beginning to feel isolated, both from a failed career choice, and because of a lack of social outlets. I had attempted many times to introduce her to my own friends, and my own hobbies, but it had become increasingly apparent that while we shared a physical attraction, an emotional connection, and a strong rapport, we had very little in common in hobbies. (She later admitted that she'd already made up her mind at that point, and my task was more to convince her to change her mind than to convince her of the city's value.) All of this lead to a new ultimatum: Either I would stay in Portland single, or I would move for my relationship and child. (As it will be relevant later, it was at about this point that I began to become less and less interested in sex.) Now here's where it gets real screwy.
Fiancee has never had money issues. Her family has money, and she used a chunk of her father's inheritance to purchase property that she rents out. In addition, more of his estate was invested and ear marked for trusts for grandchildren. Thus, not only could Lady live well enough (if a bit frugally) on her own without working, her child had a resource for paying for all of their health, wellbeing, and education. This, I was not needed financially, nor could anything I would contribute in taking care of the child be irreplaceable, as becoming closer to friends and family (some of whom were already parents) for their support was the whole point of her move. Still, I angsted considerably, both about what I wanted, and what was the Right thing to do. Throughout it all, Lady assured me that there was no obligation for me to move. This was my decision.
EXCEPT.
Close to the deadline where I would have to decide, Lady took a trip back to Chicago so she could see friends, get ducks in a row, and be away for a few days so I could have some time alone to consider things. We were having a conversation about things over text when she hit me with another curve ball: her evaluation of her emotional needs had changed, and it would be very difficult to do this without a partner.
It's worth mentioning that I am a sap. After treating a partner very terribly and just generally being an awful person in the past, I now heavily factor morality (not religious, just personal) into all my decisions. And so this changed everything. She needed me. Despite still being heavily conflicted at the time, I promised not 24 hours later that I was in this for the long haul. My logic was, very simply, at least if this was a mistake, it'd be the Good and Responsible mistake. This was the start of my path to convincing myself that I was happy with my decision. (It was not the ONLY factor in the decision, there was already a lot going on in other areas, but the pros and cons they brought balanced out enough that it's not worth dragging this story down even FURTHER with the details.)
We moved to Chicago in October, less than a year after our first real date, and our son was born in December. (He spent the first several weeks in the NICU, but that's a different story.) During conversation before I moved, we had also determined that if I felt I was capable of doing it while also taking care of the child, she would pay for me to go to community college. I began classes last month. I began very slowly making friends, although my hobbies were mostly mindless and my social circle was mostly just borrowed from her.
On Tuesday, during a heart to heart about our sex life, I admitted, to her and to myself, that I wasn't just surface stressed. I felt, so deeply that everything else I said at all sounded in my ears like a lie, that I made a mistake. We both cried, but I cried hard enough that the snot became a barrier that made it physically impossible to breathe through my nose and I had to beg her to get me tissues so that I would be able to breathe without desperately panting like I was having an asthma attack.
I have never felt ANY emotion as strongly in a single moment as I did then. (With the sole obvious exception of the compounded stress of having a son in the hospital for the first three weeks of his life.) I put together the pieces. I could replace having friends, and hobbies, and even weather preference to some degree. But what I can not replace is Portland itself, and what it represents for me. Portland is where I finally began my transition, where I started getting medication for my issues and feeling human instead of self medicating with cigarettes and emotional breakdowns. It's the only city I've ever been to where my presentation being imperfect doesn't feel othering. There may be more queer people in Chicago numerically, but the culture of the city as a whole is very different. Being blunt, I don't just love Portland, I hate Chicago for not being Portland.
Even that was something I thought I could deal with, though, except for something I realized, and something I was told. First, what I was told. When Lady was in Chicago, it was her friend who convinced her to weigh her emotional needs more strongly, and that fulfilling those needs was my responsibility in particular. And second, what I realized. I'm not attracted to her any more. Her body shape hasn't even changed particularly much. But it's not as appealing to be sexual, and I'm not as motivated to share my hobbies. In short, I may be falling out of love with her.
Last night and today, even more happened, but this post is long enough that I'm terrified a space wedgie will eat it, so that can come in another post.
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