“Sad creepiness”
Thompson lays out the nuts and bolts.
“You’re being yourself,” says a cross-dressing man who parades around the streets at night in a fetishistic latex maid’s uniform. With bonus dog collar and leash, obviously.
But he doesn’t want to talk about his sexuality, because “it’s complicated.”
As if we couldn’t guess.
Says our enthusiast of bondage and public humiliation, “The rush eventually wears off… I miss the rush… you do more risqué things.” And of course this chasing of transgression entails onlookers. People to be scandalised, disturbed or in some way imposed upon. Reluctant participants in his naff erotic drama.
At risk of seeming insufficiently affirming, what I see is a man being consumed by his own sad and grubby fetish. Not, I think, the most obvious basis for applause. Or indeed pride.
But hey. Modernity, baby.
We’ve recently mentioned how the realities above are difficult to convey in a normal social situation. Consequently, you may encounter people who wish to be seen as supportive of all things trans, because they’ve been watching the BBC and therefore know almost nothing about the phenomenon that they feel obliged to be seen supporting.
And so, you may find yourself in a social situation where nodding along or some affirming noise is expected, and you may then have to decide whether to sidestep the subject or introduce the other person to a world they may not care to enter or wish to spend much time in. But which is a very large part of what it is they’re affirming, if, perhaps, unwittingly.
And which isn’t necessarily what you want to think about when, say, having a meal with friends or coffee with the neighbours.
Or, y’know, ever, for the matter of it. More, much more, here.
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