I had been commenting on how the way I was treated tending to depend entirely on who I was with.

When getting drinks with a friend who's ten years younger, we got a look and then, "Hi girls, can I see some ID?"

Not a few days later, with someone a little older than myself, we were "ladies", and the treatment was quite different; I certainly didn't get my ID checked.

"Well, you do have an 'ageless' thing going on," the friend I was talking to said.

Regardless of whether or not he intended it to be a statement of fact, a compliment, or somewhere in-between, his comment seemed, now I think about it, to be quite accurate.

I am 34 years old. I have always looked younger than my age - it's why, when I was still desperately trying to "be a man", I wore a beard.

Despite this, the fact is I don't quite look enough to ever pass for a teenager. The skin around my eyes is slightly too pronounced and my hands betray my age in an instant, if you look at them.

But most people won't. That'd take careful inspection.

So, instead, they will, as my friend observed, assume I am 'like' the people I'm with, and look for confirmative evidence.

With someone who looks young? They might note just how skinny I am. I'm slightly less than a year into hormone therapy, so my breasts and hips are those of a teenager. Little more than baby fat for the most part.

With someone who looks more mature? Well, skin aside, my clothing, features and behaviour probably help me fit right in there, and after all - not all women look curvy at 34.

I was, fortunately, blessed with a distinct lack of much testosterone in my system naturally, so what was once a slightly androgynous form to my face and body has quickly taken to look more feminine. This is something I'm grateful for, of course - how could I not be?

It does, however, produce that strange combination that most trans women going through hormone therapy share: I am at the same time a woman in her thirties, with physical attributes more akin to a young woman in her early teens.

However, it struck me today as my friend referred to me as having an 'ageless' quality... that there's another aspect to this - a psychological one.

I'd imagine, for someone watching me from the outside, my behaviour must seem a bit idiosyncratic at times.

I'm a mature adult, but I am essentially in the process of going through puberty. I am experiencing the way the world treats me as a woman, for better and for worse.

I am objectified. I am sexualised. I am judged.

It's an experience I've never had before.

It is, of course, quite possible for a man to be sexualised. But I hadn't been. Not to my knowledge, anyway - and certainly not with enough frequency to have an impact on me.

So, with this experience comes behaviour which, while it is a lot more considered and intentional than it might be for a girl in her early teens, still probably seems similar to people who're observing me.

I take selfies. I excitedly play with new ways to dress and present. I play with my sexuality, in a sense for the first time.

I'm not ashamed of any of this. I never got to experience this as a teenager, as I was never comfortable with my body and certainly never felt at home being socialised as a male.

Experiences feel new, either because they literally are, or because they hold new meaning for me now. For instance, feeling someone show me affection - having them kiss or caress me. In this case, it's not literally the first time, but it is a fundamentally fresh experience. An amazing and new experience, because that passion and sexual energy I feel being directed at me is because of my feminine qualities, not because they saw a guy they were attracted to - a concept I always found deeply unnerving and uncomfortable.

But in the same way, feeling this for the first time in my mid-thirties is strange in itself.

It produces another meaning in which I feel I fit the 'ageless' comment my friend made.

I have friends of hugely varied ages - from early '20s to mid '60s. I enjoy the conversations I can have with all of them. I do notice, however, that the way I relate to all of them is different.

My much younger female friends are, in a sense, still older than me. If they're 22 years old, they've potentially got up to a decade of experience over me in coping with being sexualised, being intimate in a way that makes them feel comfortable - being treated and feeling like a woman.

But even the most mature of them have a lot less life experience than me. It may be in a different way, and as age and wisdom is quite relative it may so nothing about either of our actual maturity levels, it's hard to not often remember that I am actually a lot older than them.

The same is true in reverse. Cis women my own age I talk to feel so much more experienced than me. The way they treat their sexuality and sexism directed at them is very different.

I may feel like a lot younger than my 20-something cis female friends, but I feel like a total baby compared to a lot of women my own age or older.

Sometimes, it's almost embarrassing to ask certain questions, and I have to remind myself that my friends aren't going to judge me. They know I am new to all of this, even if I've spent as many years on this planet as them, give or take.

Yet sometimes there's this look. Often well-meaning, but still a bit strange. A kind of smile they get when I ask what must be very basic questions about behaviour, clothing or anything else.

To a degree, it's comfortable talking to other trans people as many of them get this - except that most who I know transitioned at an earlier age to me, so even their experiences are even more distinct from mine than they might be anyway.

So, I do feel that my friend's statement was true on many levels. Which isn't to say I don't feel old, or young - just that depending on the context, my age right now feels... variable. Anachronistic.

I don't know when my experiences will begin to sync up again, or when I will begin to 'feel my age'. Perhaps I never will.

Like I'm a strangely written character, experiencing important parts of her life and personal development out of correct chronological order.

A sort of time traveller, whose brain has been moving out of sync with her body instead of her entire person shifting through time & space.