That was about a month ago. I heard a few jokes from some other ladies about how they expected me to never leave the house again, and boy do I get that. But what has been the most interesting thing for me, in lowering my guard and in dropping some of my prudishness and talking about it more, is how common this experience actually seems to be among so many of the women I’ve talked to.

Not the going on hormones part, but the discovering the secret path to one’s orgasm that had previously been hidden.  Some women have talked to me about how they can’t have one from intercourse, and how partners have treated them like there was something wrong because of it, versus a later partner who instinctively bought her a vibrator without needing to be asked. Or the women who tell me they have a really tough time climaxing if they are too afraid to be vulnerable with their partner. Or the woman who says she’s found that her ability to have one has actually gone away a bit as she’s gotten older, and how it’s changed her approach to sex, being more selective, more concerned about having a partner who knows how to work for it.

So many times in my life, when I run up against the experiences of cis women, I feel a sense of grief or longing for the part of their lives that I’ll never get, or that I had to take a passive, almost spectator view to. This time though, while I lament the age at which I acquired this knowledge or ability, it has actually made me feel so much closer to the friends who have shared their struggles with me. For these conversations, the “trans” or “cis” terms in front of woman seem to have faded. We’re just some ladies talking about the miracle that is a running water faucet, or how good it feels when you’re with a partner who makes your pleasure a priority for them. That we all have such different quirks and hangups that may have prevented us from experiencing this in full, but that we’re not broken or flawed, we’re just women who haven’t found our key yet.