(no subject)
I go on a date with this kid whose kind of still tripping on acid to Truck. He is sweet, kind of a cornball. I don't think I'm actually as interested in having sex as I'm trying to be, because I could fuck him but instead talk about how cruel I can be.
There are amazing drag shows at this bar. This queen twirls around on the podium and scissor kicks up into the ceiling. Never ever did I have that kind of talent in heels. I get to light her cigarette and tell her that I was honestly impressed, not just nothing else to say impressed. One boy did a performance where he broke plates then rolled around in them. It reminded me of Australia.
I don't know how to classify the fags at this bar. Hipsters? Art Fags? There is a fairy who goes by the name Squirrel. We're talking about scabies and other parasitic conditions and nobody seems to be grossed out so they can't be all that boring.
Tonight I'm invisible though. I'm not sure why. Conversations start including me and then my voice gets further and further away and all of a sudden I'm talking to myself. If no one knows I'm trans then I should be hot property - I'm young and pretty and suitably snippy. Maybe I just don't understand some kind of cue, like how .dee. told me that if you smile during cruising it means you aren't serious. maybetheyknowmysecret. Maybe I'm just not as cute as I think I am.
I need to figure out a different way of doing things. So much of my energy is going into sustaining passing. Creating fictitious boy childhoods for my Gay Male Relationships class. It's not a lie if it's just an omission of the truth is it? It's exciting and wonderful to be visually validated. I can't be touched though, I don't want people to feel my binder. And the longer I interact with people without telling them I'm trans the longer it feels tense - all of a sudden I've crossed this line and now I'm misleading and I'm scared of them finding out so I walk away. In my insecure mind (and perhaps reality) so much gay male flirting is structured around this theoretical cock which I don't have, they would never be talking to me if they knew
I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do though. Carry around a sign that says 'secret vagina haver'? When I'm feeling self pitying I say things like maybe I should just live in a cave until I get my tits chopped off or I could just find out how to make this work....
There are amazing drag shows at this bar. This queen twirls around on the podium and scissor kicks up into the ceiling. Never ever did I have that kind of talent in heels. I get to light her cigarette and tell her that I was honestly impressed, not just nothing else to say impressed. One boy did a performance where he broke plates then rolled around in them. It reminded me of Australia.
I don't know how to classify the fags at this bar. Hipsters? Art Fags? There is a fairy who goes by the name Squirrel. We're talking about scabies and other parasitic conditions and nobody seems to be grossed out so they can't be all that boring.
Tonight I'm invisible though. I'm not sure why. Conversations start including me and then my voice gets further and further away and all of a sudden I'm talking to myself. If no one knows I'm trans then I should be hot property - I'm young and pretty and suitably snippy. Maybe I just don't understand some kind of cue, like how .dee. told me that if you smile during cruising it means you aren't serious. maybetheyknowmysecret. Maybe I'm just not as cute as I think I am.
I need to figure out a different way of doing things. So much of my energy is going into sustaining passing. Creating fictitious boy childhoods for my Gay Male Relationships class. It's not a lie if it's just an omission of the truth is it? It's exciting and wonderful to be visually validated. I can't be touched though, I don't want people to feel my binder. And the longer I interact with people without telling them I'm trans the longer it feels tense - all of a sudden I've crossed this line and now I'm misleading and I'm scared of them finding out so I walk away. In my insecure mind (and perhaps reality) so much gay male flirting is structured around this theoretical cock which I don't have, they would never be talking to me if they knew
I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do though. Carry around a sign that says 'secret vagina haver'? When I'm feeling self pitying I say things like maybe I should just live in a cave until I get my tits chopped off or I could just find out how to make this work....