I'm a female-born and identified partner, wife, girlfriend, squeeze, lover—you name it—of a Transman (FTM). After spending his life stuck in the wrong body, he's transitioning to become the man he has always been. This is our journey from my point of view. Right now it's anonymous so if you know us, please respect that. But we both really appreciate comments.
Last week, I had trouble with the testosterone injection. It hurt R and didn't go in right, so I told him I wanted to go back to the clinic to get retrained. For now, I'm leaving out the clinic name and location (for the meantime I still need to protect our identities). But you know who you are. R was reluctant because he thought I was doing fine. But hell, if this is an injection he's going to need every week for the rest of his life, I figured it wouldn't hurt to get it right. He agreed. So the person who gave us instructions is a wonderful woman I will only call A right now. She wouldn't mind me publicizing her name but (see above). She's a beautiful woman, with perfect skin, beautiful silky hair and a gracious, wide smile (don't worry; I don't have a crush!) So when I first met her, it took me a bit to realize that she, too, was transgender. And that just made me feel relieved. You know. She understood. She's so gentle and patient, repeating instructions, not laughing (when she really should have) when I stupidly gave myself a needle stick, and guiding us every step of the way. But my favorite instruction: before I actually give the injection, A tells me, "Now, tell him you love him." I do. Happily. Then she tells me after to kiss him. "Lots of kisses." And I do.