I was checking my logs for this journal site. There were the expected ones, hits sent by webrings and my own webpage, but one strange link was present. I clicked on it, and found that someone has submitted this site to a web index. Not only was it a web index, but an index augmented by opinions of the various listings. The one and only comment regarding these insights to my life is rather indifferent. The one significant point was the fact that the writer missed a very important thing -- the writer has used the pronoun "her" in reference to me.

It's probably just a slip of the tongue, automatic identification with the things I said assumed I was the same gender as her, or assumption that I'm a woman since most online-diarists seem to be female.

I do, however, seem to emit the suggestion of femininity, looking at my "brain dump" comments. There's a certain sentimentality which betrays my masculinity. I'm not a great writer, but I aspire to put some sort of feeling into what I write. The brain log is an outlet for quick spurts of imagery, but that imagery doesn't include football, beer drinking, drugs, or any of the stereotypically hard, strong man.

I'm not any of that. If I had a higher voice and a lisp, I might be assumed as gay. I like to cook, I clean the house, I have an appreciation for art, etc., etc.....I could go on and on -- there are a lot of traditionally feminine likes and dislikes in me.

When we moved from Fargo ND to Sidney MT, when I was in the 10th grade, I wanted to change my image. I had been picked on quite a bit in the 8th grade, and I literally cannot remember anything worthwhile about the 9th grade, so I wanted to make a fresh start in a new place. It didn't work; I still ended up as pretty much the same person. I still had the trappings of non-masculinity; women connected with me as a friend and a peer, not a lover. Not that that was a big deal -- I loved having female friends -- but it only added to my gender issues. I enjoy the confidentiality I've had with female friends, and I've learned many more things about women than most men have. Hell, I even attended a women's college for one year. I feel very confident that I have embraced my feminine side, and have long-ago come to terms with it.

If you're a relative of mine, or anyone else who would be shocked at me coming out of the closet, I'm pleased to disappoint you. I am not gay, not have I ever been. I am not interested in men, and I am not looking for a boyfriend.

Really, nobody ever assumes that of me, that I know of. A friend of mine claiming to have "gaydar" excluded me from the homosexual set, and I was satisfied with that. I, however, live in the limbo of effeminite men.

Part of the frustration lies in that I'm closer to the male side of this limbo. For years, I was a carpenter. I like power tools, hammers and saws, and creating solid, strong structures with my bare hands. I do like hockey and lacrosse (two of the most violent team sports), but not enough to become the traditional male fan. I'm not interested in wearing frilly clothes. I don't cry during weepy movies, although I'm not ashamed of crying if the event does occur. I drink Zima instead of beer, but strong canadian whiskey or imported rum fit my tastes better.

I've talked about my internal personality conflicts before, but this tends to be the strongest. Once upon a time, I was told that I'd make a good wife someday. And, that did happen. Even the whole divorce proceedings were flipped -- had I been the woman and my ex been male, the background story and testimony wouldn't have caused any confusion. Unfortunately, regardless of my position as the head cook, head cleaner, primary caretaker of Destiny (and head breadwinner on top of that), the fact that I was the husband counted against me.

For many years, I had very long hair, down to the middle of my back. I'm also slender and tall, with difficulty growing facial hair. I was referred to as "m'am," in person, to my face, innumerable times. I didn't blame them; I knew that I looked feminine at a quick glance, or out of the corner of someone's eye. I had developed the self-confidence to accept that, since I looked the way I did by choice.

When I finally did cut my hair off, it wasn't a bid deal to me. I enjoyed having long hair, but it wasn't a core part of my identity. Being called "m'am" has ceased. Over the past year or so, I feel I've entered a second puberty, too. I've had to re-stock my wardrobe with new shirts and pants, due to the apparent broadening of my shoulders, thicker neck, and my 28" wasp-waist has now expanded to a more manly 34".

It's nice these days to talk to a woman, and catch the glimmer of attraction in her eyes, in the way she talks, and in her mannerisms. It's different than people I've dated in the past. Nearly all of my previous girlfriends, including my ex-wife, were pulled from the pool of my female friends and acquaintances. These days, I think people see me differently. I do not outwardly reflect my femininity any longer, since I've learned to stand tall, my shillouette is more masculine, and use stronger mannerisms and language. Whether or not I've changed internally, externally I reflect a more standard man. This is much to the satisfaction of my grandparents, who have always felt displeasure towards my previous look.

I, however, have not changed much inside. My apartment reflects that, and I wonder what would happen if my hologram of masulinity holds up, and I begin to date someone. Will my houseplants and incense betray me? My coworkers are learning more and more about me in these ways, too. My boss was looking for a formal dress, and had asked the salesperson about bras for strapless dresses. She suggested duct tape, as an alternative, and I had learned about that in a past costuming class or from my fashion-school friends. I instinctively made a comment of acknowledgement, and I was greeted by a confused stare. Why does Derek know about holding breasts in place with duct tape? Regardless of what I may project, there is still a central thread of femininity within me, which I can't get rid of.

I don't think I want to rid myself of it, though. It makes a lot of my life easier; I'm a single parent, so fulfilling all the household needs isn't as difficult as Dustin Hoffman trying to make french toast in Kramer vs. Kramer. I also feel it's easier to find fulfillment in my life by being internally connected with my emotions and feelings. There is a lot to be gained by being well-rounded, regardless of yoni or lingam attributes. Everyone seems to be made up of the same set of characteristics, some primarily attributed to females, other to men. I don't completely fit into the male compilation of details, but I have a bunch of things that traditional males don't. Some of it does make me a bit of a sissy, but other parts make me more insightful, more sensuous. There's an old-wife's tale that all women are really looking for a sensitive new-age guy. I haven't had much experience in finding women like that. I have, however, come to the realization that I don't need someone else to fulfill a female role in my life, since I already have the most important parts. Regardless of whether I'm masculine or feminine, I'm still stuck in the same rut as everybody else. Were all looking for someone who fits with us, whether a bosom buddy, a significant other, or a clique of friends. Who you are is always who you will be.