Aimless Ramblings

I did a photoshoot for the local LGBT charity a few years ago when they were looking for disabled people to photograph. And the other day, while I was in the car somewhere between Ullapool and Avimore, I got an e-mail with what looks like a similar photoshoot, this time for LGBT+ men (and non-binary people "and their allies"). And it's today and I forgot about it, but Thursday night I did try to look at the form they asked us to fill in. I could do the page of demographics stuff: age, gender, sexuality, disability, etc. But I stopped at the next page which asks

What does being a man (or being seen as a man) mean to you, and how do you express that in your own way?

What changes would you like to see in how society understands masculinity, and how do you think men can better support each other and their communities?

I had no idea what to do with these. I wandered away from the computer and promptly forgot about it until now. The photoshoot is today, it's going on now, so obviously that's not happening. And I never thought it was likely because of that timing; we're all about as exhausted and low on spoons as I thought we'd be. And that's a shame; with a cis man, a trans man, and a non-binary person who had femininity forced upon them and has only recently been able to reject that, I feel like my little family potentially is a great example of different relationships to manhood/masculinity.

Reminded of it now when I opened Firefox to look at something else, I see there's a couple more questions on the page that I didn't even get as far as reading the other day:

What message would you give to someone exploring their gender or identity — at any age — who might be looking for a role model?

What do you see as the biggest challenges or issues facing men in 2025, and what support or resources do you think men — and their loved ones — need to navigate these challenges and thrive?

Interesting questions. On the way home from the gym, D gave our local pal, another D, home and we got talking about driving and the behavior of strangers in their own cars. We talked about how toxic masculinity extends its tentacles even there, with young men on a speed awareness course talking about being overtaken as a personal insult, and me sharing a couple of quotes I've seen from blind people talking about the appeal of self-driving cars for them being about feeling like a man because they can be the family taxi again.

Last night I brushed my teeth, flossed and had another try at trimming my beard. I felt so good, clean and ready for bed.

In one way I'm like man I've added another body-maintenance chore?! but it's totally worth it because the feeling of my neck being smooth because I just shaved it is so so much nicer than it being smooth because hair never grew there in the first place. Somehow this is about being a man (even though facial hair is not necessary or sufficient to be one).

I laid awake a long time after I went to bed, but I spent some of that time smelling the remnant of shaving cream my brain still associates with D, and grinning. As I lay there and thought about it more, about how negatively I'm used to hearing shaving being talked about because almost everyone I know who talks about it is transfem, has skin or other attributes which are particularly sensitive to the physical necessities of shaving, or both. And just the sentence that society expects men not to care/try/whatever when it comes to appearance or grooming (that's why a whole word had to be invented for metrosexuals!) But it only now occurs to me that I was actually much more likely to be scruffy/smelly/whatever as a girl or woman, because I was so uncomfortable in my body, mentally detaching myself from it as much as possible, and extremely put off by all of the options for appearance or grooming that were available to me in that gender role. Now I feel like I'm more successful at being well-groomed just because it's more fun or appealing, more satisfying or soothing. Somehow this is about being a man too.

We're halfway(ish) home.

Fun fact: I didn't know there was a Perth besides the one in Australia until a few years ago. Possibly when the other two started breaking this journey here.

The trip was uneventful if hard on poor D, who hates driving and is exhausted. I'm glad he got a little nap on the ferry. The weather was beautiful: fluffy clouds, sun glittering in the blue water of the Minch as we crossed it. I didn't doze this time but listened to podcasts about baseball and had lots of feelings (I'm having so many baseball feelings lately!).

We've just been in so many places lately; all I wanted from this one is for there not to be too many weird stairs and there weren't any! Our room is cute and cozy. I also hope the shower isn't too haunted but I'm not awake enough or stinky enough to try that tonight.

Wild to think we'll be home tomorrow night. I am not excited to go back to work but I'm excited to know where everything is and how the shower works.

"There's a wee step here," D told me as we made our way out of the cemetery where we'd gone looking for the pyramid monument that he'd been alerted to on Pokémon Go.

He's often warning me of little things, potential hazards, like this as we're walking around so that wasn't remarkable at all.

What I remarked upon was the language. "Do we all get to say 'wee' now that we're in Scotland?" I asked. "I noticed V saying it earlier but didn't know if it applied to us too."

D had a ready answer. "Yes." It sounded very authoritative!

Stirling has been great. The trip here took an hour and a half longer than it should've thanks to spending that time at a standstill on the M6, thirteen miles back from something that'd happened near Tebay. So by the time we got here, checked in, and found some food, it was 8:30 and I was thinning about going to bed soon when D asked if I wanted to join him for a walk. We could walk down to the lively studenty area or uphill to the "Old Town," with things like the castle, a bunch of statues of old dudes with extravagantly Scottish names, and other touristy landmarks that were all closed and in the dark. But I've still enjoyed it a lot, I was introduced to the concept of a paneer burrito which I'm sad I can't have again in a hurry, and we did find a pub (a hotel bar actually) near the castle -- so close to it that it's called The Portcullis, because it was in the castle's portcullis.

And now I can use Scottish words for things, apparently! So that's nice.

A quiet day. I didn't sleep so I didn't feel very ambitious this morning. D had to work so I was happy to keep quiet and admire him at the kitchen table with his computer glasses and his headset on. At home he works in his own little room with his back to the door so it was kinda fun to just see him at work. Once he did the finger-snap/finger-guns thing that I recognize as meaning he's managed to do something satisfying on the computer; that was nice to see.

This afternoon V and I went for a little walk around: to An Lanntair ("The Lighthouse," an arts centre) where we bought fridge magnets and socks and admired sculptures wrapped in the distinctive red stripey foil from Tunnocks teacakes, how Scottish can you get. Then on to the sporting goods store, where I bought a t-shirt with a cute line drawing of blackhouses on it; it says "Western Isles." We admired them in the window the other day when the store was closed. They have one with a black pudding too but that isn't nearly as well-drawn or as appealing to me.

We went to Argos quickly to get a hand pump for the tires on V's new rollator, which turned up not long before we left home so this is its first outing. They're very happy with it as the bog-standard one they had before wasn't suited to their needs and caused almost as much pain to use as it alleviated. But one of the things that makes this one better is that it has pneumatic tires, rather than hard rubber ones; they'll absorb some of the shock rather than transferring it directly to poor V's arms. But we hadn't had a chance to pump up the tires before we left and V thought one of them needed it, hence the cheap pump. At home we have an automatic thing that we can use to pump up car and bike tires but we didn't bring it. Once we had the pump, V sat down on a bench outside Argos and I attempted to inflate the tires. They were all in pitiful condition and I marveled that the thing had been as useful for V as it has been. I ended up having to crawl around and just sit on the cool paving slabs to connect the pump, ha. Right there on the high street, I bet we'll be the talk of the town. I know how little it takes to do that in a small town -- I didn't realize quite how small but I just looked it up on Wikipedia and it's under seven thousand people. I feel like I've run into all of them the three times I've been at Tesco since we got here.

We failed to find the temporary location of a store that is run by someone from Minnesota who ended up here, which is the one thing remaining that the others have mentioned really hoping I get to see while I'm here. We have better intel now on exactly where it is, thanks to visiting V's son this evening (and thus I also got to finally meet his tuxedo cat Sam, who I've seen many many photos and videos of). So maybe we can manage that tomorrow, along with a plan to go to the castle. It's our last day here; I'm gonna miss it so much.