trans masc, dating apps
i've been in the habit of starting posts, putting a bit of notes, then saving as a draft for later. i whittle away at any draft that calls to me, publishing at my leisure. this draft only had four words as notes: trans masc, dating apps. that's enough to go off of from here.
this isn't an isolated experience, but being trans masc in the dating sphere sure is... something. the horror stories and cringe, together a mixed flair of casual transphobia and well-meaning curiosity. if i had a dollar for every time someone asked me some iteration of "so what do you really have down there?" i could probably buy a medium pizza, because i wasn't openly trans masc on dating apps for very long.
creating or updating my profile over the years has been a continual re-evaluation of: "what do i enter in my profile? what options are there for me?" now, there's much more to choose from. it reminds me of when facebook added dozens of gender options to pick. i can assert myself more accurately if i chose to do so.
thus, my profile was fairly simple for a while: they/them, nonbinary, bisexual/queer. i kept it light enough to be a gist but vague enough to inspire conversation.
that does come with a cost, though. omitting or sharing certain "identity markers" can affect my chances of being seen. dating apps have gotten more "pay-to-win," too, making it more of an algorithm-numbers game as social attitudes towards gender diversity stretched and folded.
i got more matches as "nonbinary" over any gender hinting towards masculinity, even if i presented as masc as in any photos uploaded. i realized, with time, that this is likely a product of:
- cis straight men, checking off genders and sexualities based on wishing to see cis straight or bisexual women, without a strict filtering out of non-women, so i end up on their radar and they swipe right because i'm probably just a quirky lady who had a crazy haircut once.
- cis straight/queer women, and enbies; these two categories of people, namely, tend to filter out men from their search results, as a means of preference, safety, or both.
(i haven't had much memorable luck with cis queer men enough to warrant its own category.)
in the latter category, some may have hid or blocked my profile on the premise of being associated with masculinity. that's a whole other thing in itself, trying not to be seen as "most men" in the camaraderie of "i hate men and all men are the same." i still felt like women and enbies tended to have one foot out the door on the premise that i could not be fully trusted. it's bewildering, really, walking on eggshells over this. i understand where they're coming from but i lose out on potential connections just by existing a is am.
in the former category, well, it could be a mistake. or the men who swipe on me are in denial and would rather not do grindr so it's a cope. or it doesn't matter if it's tinder or grindr, they just want to get their rocks off. misunderstanding, chaser, bored and will take what he can get--whatever it is, pussy is pussy to some people.
(side note: any cisgender person--hell, even as far as any gender--thinking that we, trans mascs, can't tell when you're just saying you're cool with different gender experiences to seem progressive enough to hit: we can. i, at least, can tell when someone sees me as he/they pussy.)
but that also brings another point forward, something i don't really look forward to when "putting myself out there" once more. when i meet someone new, i'm coming out, again. and again, and again, and again with each swipe right.
i forgot where i originally saw someone say that. it was either an instagram post or a tumblr blurb or a twitter thread, but OP, a gender-diverse person, applied it to the context of meeting a new person. maybe it was in the dating sphere, or just in a general sense, but i can't help but apply it here, because i'm most conscientious of this when i'm arduously vetting new suitors.
i mentioned before how presenting as feminine often yielded more attention than when i was not. it's true. i tried it out, and there's no doubting that i got more "matches" when i had photos in makeup and dresses than when i was not. i'm desirable when i'm perceived as expected--wait so, this bit is hard to explain if you're not in this realm of gender diversity. being gender non-conforming complicates things. sure, i think that gender is what you make of it, and how you present your own gender identity is personal and not necessarily a reflection of gender, but not everyone shares this perspective.
it's scarier when your heart is at stake. i'm particularly sensitive to that in that my "identity" has been a dealbreaker on occasions. it's hard not to be sensitive over someone not honoring how you see yourself. would it be any surprise to say i once had more of a rigid checklist of sorts before considering being vulnerable? funnily, that's anything but, but i learned the distinction over time. it's a risk to put yourself out there, for anyone with an inclination towards romance, and being gender-variant just adds a spice of caution.
it takes an unwavering self-evidence and advocacy to remain hopeful in this landscape of desire and pleasantries as a transgender person. "the trans masc romance i deserve, exists," i say, exiting an epoch of never compromising my self ever again.