I have not personally encountered a 'women + trans only' space in real life but I have heard about them and seen pictures of flyers, emails, etc. advertising them online. I would never access one because it clearly hasn't been created with someone like me in mind. I feel they are spaces of good intent and ignorance with a high risk of unintentional harm.

What does 'trans' mean in these spaces? Do they mean all AFAB people? If so, I find it insulting to be hypothetically included due to my genitals. Perhaps it's meant to be for nonbinary folks who were AFAB. In that case is it not wrong to insinuate they are always 'woman-aligned' by including them in 'women +' spaces? Or maybe it's all nonbinary folks regardless of genitals, expression... or all trans people anywhere on the spectrum. But would that not be unfair to women who want a space away from men, who may now be sharing a space with trans men? And does that language 'other' trans women who are women and not just trans?

I have an issue with ambiguous language like this because everyone can interpret it differently and it can lead to confusion and hurt and invalidation. Perhaps I do not like the insinuation that being trans means you are 'non-man' and thus qualified to share spaces with women and trans folks who need safe spaces.

I wouldn't feel comfortable in a space meant to be occupied by women, women-aligned, woman-adjacent, etc. folks. I don't belong. I would perhaps feel better in a temporary space meant for non-white trans masc people, because in spaces curated for the overarching trans community, I feel our experiences are vastly different because race impacts so many facets of our lives and changes how we interpret our trauma, our joy, our relationships, and how we express our trans identities.

Unfortunately, I am monolingual and do not speak any language other than English. It's something I want to fix, I'd love to speak another language like many of my friends. I've taken several years of Spanish in public school, along with 2-4 years of French after that, and two Japanese classes. I was held back by social anxiety (we were made to take oral examinations in front of the whole class, and I was laughed at for my voice) so I refused to take any of it seriously to save face and stress. I regret my decision.

If I could wake up tomorrow knowing three additional languages, they would be:
1. French
2. Japanese
3. American Sign Language

My reasoning is as follows:

French: When I was in junior high, I had to choose a language path. I did not want to follow in my brother's footsteps and take Spanish; I wanted to be different. There were not many options, so I settled with French. I was laughed at for my voice by the second week of class and switched to Robotics immediately. I would take French again in senior high with a genuine interest, but again I was afraid of speaking out loud in front of anyone... so I would refuse to speak. Now as an adult I have visited Paris and fell in love with the city despite it's piss-scented subways, crowded buses, and pickpocket problem. I wish beyond anything that I had taken French seriously in school, I wanted so badly to talk to the people around me, even if it was just to show appreciation for helping us navigate the trains when we first arrived. I'd love to go back.

Japanese: I had my dark weeaboo days just like everybody else, and although I've outgrown that phase of my life, I would still love to be fluent in Japanese to have something extra in common with Levi. It would be delightful if we could talk with one another in Japanese, if I could help him practice, and we could enjoy more things together. He has tried casually to teach me basic things but I am just too afraid of failure again to put any time into learning.

American Sign Language: I had an opportunity to learn American Sign Language (ASL) in community college, but I was discouraged from taking the course because it would not count toward my foreign language requirement in my degree program. I took Spanish instead. Now I wish I had taken it because there are times I am simply exhausted with talking and of hearing people talk, but I still would not mind communicating and holding a conversation. ASL would be a saving grace when I just want things to be quiet.

Honorable mentions are Spanish and Hebrew, the former for it's use and utility in the country with an increasing number of Spanish speakers, and the latter for my postponed conversion to Judaism.

I am particularly fond of faggot, as we are all well acquainted with now, but that is more a blatant pejorative than an actual euphemism.

There are others such as fairy that I've become quite fond but cannot use as I am not of the femme, feminine, or delicate sort; 'fruit cake' has been ruined for me by my homophobic father who used it for homosexuals as much as he used it for "odd people" and those he thought were mentally unwell; but 'daffy', 'pansy', and 'flower' all make me smile despite their tainted use.

I am still a fan of 'faun' being used in some alternative universe for playful, submissive gay boys, and honestly? I wouldn't mind 'cock jockey' coming back in fashion, as vulgar as it is.

The ideal day begins with a late morning.

My boyfriend doesn't have to work and I don't have school, so we can lay in bed with one another until ~9:30am. We're both naked and warm and the house is empty, so together in bed we do little and say little. I'm given some puppy attention from time to time, with head scratches and tickles and tons of quiet praise. Noon is when we'll finally drag ourselves away from our phones and out of bed and relax together in the kitchen as we cook a big brunch.

Perfection requires we head to the movies; we'll spend no money on the bus ride, and chuckle at inside jokes while we wait in our seats at the theater, and chatter excitedly about what we've seen as we wander aimlessly around the downtown streets and stop by the river to soak in the sun. Hunger will likely set in while we're there, so we'll head back towards the businesses and find a restaurant to sit in for dinner. Before sunset we'll be home and YouTube will be on the TV with a YouTuber we both like to watch or listen to acting as background noise. Rather than speak and distract one another, we'll talk to each other on Telegram or Discord and say nothing out loud.

By evening I'd want to turn in early for some attention, which can preoccupy us well into the late hours of the night, and we'd finally fall asleep before 3:00am.

Oh yes, I am a big fan of jewellery on men.

And by "jewellery" of course I mean piercings.

I love eyebrow piercings, nose piercings, nipple piercings, septum, snake bites, industrial, tragus... men with ~jewellery~ in their skin like this are so attractive. I love them. I'd love to get a septum piercing but it simply isn't for me; I am a rough and tumble boy who can't stop touching himself, and any piercing on my face including the nose would be so irritated and painful and in the way.

I am also a big fan of the aesthetic of nose chains, and that brings me to other types of jewellery. Most necklaces are an outright no from me if they are any type of metal or appear to be metal. I like cords that are made of faux leather, cotton, 'rope', wire... and don't you dare put more than one gaudy stone or gem on it. Ugh! Rings are little different for me; on myself I do not like rings with stones/gems and would be very happy with a simple black band. On men I am a little more flexible, but still prefer black stones like onyx or tourmaline. (Though I suppose I'm willing to excuse anything green if it looks good on him.) I find that several rings worn at once can be sexy, but any more than 3-4 is hideous. At that point you're more interested in making a false statement about your perceived wealth than fashion or uniqueness.

I am a very simple boy, so I am very picky and particular about this.

Crowded around a chair on the floor of Ms. Hilts' class as she cracked open a brightly coloured book, my first grade class would yell out in unison without fail: "My name is Junie B. Jones. The B stands for Beatrice. Except I don't like Beatrice. I just like B and that's all!" Barbara Park passed away in 2013 and I did not know until several years later. I was heartbroken when I found out and was immediately transported to happier days in primary school; of sitting in my first grade class yelling I was Junie B. Jones with my classmates, searching for her books in the Scholastic Book Fair even though I hadn't been given any money to buy them, and reading all the copies my school library and local city library had. I'm still in possession of a copy. :) Nothing takes me back to happy school days than that bright yellow cover of "Junie B. Jones Has a Peep in her Pocket".

Several years later in both junior and senior high, sitting in a classroom when the teacher came in late pushing a cart with an old TV—you knew what was about to come on the screen and you were clearing your throat, ready to sing at the top of your lungs. When I heard Netflix was going to remake The Magic School Bus I remembered sitting in junior high science classes and senior high environmental science classes and crowing badly along with the words of the song. It didn't matter if we were pushing 17 and 18; you hear that bus horn, you start singing.

Billy Joel's discography, especially his album The Stranger from 1977, brings me back to the end of my tumultuous teenage years. I was listening to his music heavily between 15 and 19; I was depressed and cutting and suicidal and lonely and trying to come out as transgender and deal with the emotional fallout with my mother over it. I felt like a burden, I felt like an idiot. I was in therapy and my school grades were shit and I didn't care to take care of myself. My room was a mess, my first and only boyfriend was living four hours away from me, I kept fighting with him and I knew it was always my fault. I'd listen to Joel when I was upset -- and I was upset a lot.

It is cathartic to listen to him now and not have those angry and sad feelings inside me. I enjoy the music and the lyrics with happiness because I know not too long ago I was listening to these same songs in pain, and I made it to the other side.

It would be cruel to have my twin flame held just out of my reach. Dare I say we have grown up together, in that together we have matured from teenagers to adults and found ourselves as a pair, and to be apart for too long is to live without a shadow. We do not like to be without the other to such a degree that questions are raised if one of us is spotted alone. To have him held just out of reach of my touch, when his touch is all I covet, would truly be torture.

But should you want to know about something I currently do not have, it would be a crystal ball. This crystal ball represents certainty and the future. My biggest anxieties revolve around harm and death; I am afraid of roberry and tresprass, car crashes and cancer, sudden and drawn out deaths. I am skittish in my own home. Every creak and groan of wood is a violent burglar. Every pain in my leg is a fatal disease. I would want nothing more than to look into that crystal ball and feel assured that I will not die tomorrow, that I can relax today, that the likelihood of a tornado sweeping through my home next month is null, that the anxiety and the skittishness and the fear can wait for a while longer.

[Don't judge me, you asked.]

I would dress in ouji coords for the rest of my life if money, body type, and social convention were non-factors. I don't care how tacky that is. I would dress like a prince to the bus stop, to the fast food joint, to the post office, to the gas station, to the library, to a wedding. Casual or daily coords do exist, so it wouldn't be non-stop over the top gaudy costumes and borderline cosplay. I'd save that for special occasions where everyone is expected to dress up. ;) Aristocrat would also be on my radar.

If I grew tired of dressing as a prince all day, I'd fall back to (modern) dandyism, albeit with a more boyish style, trading in suit jackets for vests, colourful blazers, or print sweaters. (I'd be the guy wearing Prince's cloud suit, so it's best if I just stay away from those.) Inevitably I'd get called a hipster, but it is what it is.

Unfortunately, no.

I have spent the better part of the last half hour looking up all the authors and artists whose works had an impact on me as a child or teenager, and I can find not one who isn't heterosexual. The closest I've come is Langston Hughes, who I did not know may have been homosexual until Levi told me -- but he was not necessarily important to me, I learned about his work in public school and loved several of his poems. There is also Truman Capote, whose novel 'In Cold Blood' I had to read in public school and whose main character I "performed" as for a project, but I don't think he was important to me either, I simply loved the book.

This is criminal as far as I'm concerned, and I feel that in 2019 I need to rectify this by reading as many works from gay creators as I can.