Gender Identification is a very sensitive subject to approach, regardless of age. Typically, sexual fantasies begin bloom around the time a child begins puberty and continues until, typically, there is a "love of life" that takes place.
A PERSONAL STORY:
When I was sixteen, I hung out with a gang of so-called friends. The gang, all boys (surfer types) and me and my sister went for the "to be" week-long "over-nighter." We shared bunks, but slept in our clothes, because the apartment where we stayed was too small for all the kids. There was no parental supervision. The apartment was under the ownership of Miles' parents, both excellent pediatric and gynacologic doctors. As a matter of fact, Miles' father was my doctor ever since I was in kindergarten.
Well, my first night I shared a bunk with Miles. As the sun rose, he had a hard-on (giggle giggle) and he pulled it out of his pants and showed me. "Touch it!" he said, kind of laughing.
With my index finger I touched it and it FLOPPED! But, according to the rumors Miles started spreading, "She gives a great hand job."
I was upset when all the guys started laughing, so I left the apartment and spent the next couple of nights in the house of another surfer and his family. I became good friends with his sister. Miles knew I was upset, and as I felt I had over-extended my welcome at the family's house, I went back to the apartment. All the kids were drinking beer, but I went and sat alone in the front bedroom.
Miles came in, "Can we talk?"
"Okay," I said, kind of still upset with him, my "good" friend.
"I have to tell you something. You see, me and [another guy friend] did something with each other. Do you know what that makes me?" and he started to cry.
I hugged him.
"Can I kiss you?" he asked, shyly.
"Okay," I said, and we went together into the other room, after he stopped crying, and had a quiet beer together.
So when it came time that we got our class rings, Miles asked me to trade, just to wear each others' for a little while. I said OK. He had a really pretty one - his parents were both doctors, remember? Came the time to return the rings to each other, he said "I'm sorry, I lost yours."
I thought to myself, "Sure, Miles," then he added, "Ya wanna keep mine?"
"No, Miles," I said.
"Then, I'll give you some money," he said and I thought, "PERFECT DERFECT!" I needed cigarettes.
So where do broken hearts begin? At the beginning, middle or end of "puberty?" For there is always the "fear of inadequacy," "the fear of [the worst possible hurt] a broken heart, knowing a broken or shattered heart will always leave a scar...it never heals."
Under the influence of the Bee Gee's, in those days:
But, now I am a Mormon and the Church absolutely forbids pre-marital sex or lewd behaviors. Fortunately, my "hand job" sin was wiped clean when I was baptized, else, says the Bishop, "He took advantage of you [and your innocense]."
So, after my worst ever broken heart, I purchased Donny Osmond's album: "The Soundtrack of My Life." I especially love the songs, "Don't Give Up [you still have love]" and "Survivor."