So there I was, sitting at the bar, when a man came up and said, "Hi, I'm bisexual. Let me 'bi' you a drink and then we can get sexual."
"I think you're actually bi-curious," I replied. "So why don't you buy me a drink ... and then wonder where I've gone."
This little joke sums up what I think about most admirers and men with terrible chat-up lines, attitudes and behaviours. They're a pest (sometimes worse).
And so are people who ask you intimate questions about being trans. No, I'm not going to tell you my "real" name. Nor tell you whether I've had "the op". Both questions have been put to me. Some people have zero manners and no idea how to express healthy interest. Even a normally empathetic and socially adjusted female friend of mine, on meeting me as Sue for the first time, asked whether my breasts were all-natural. "Well," I said to her, "I'll show you mine if you show me yours". She did get the message and we carried on with our day just as two women. Yes, I know women talk about intimate things much more often than men do, but maybe save such a question for later in our acquaintance, not first thing.
I've been away for a few days in Milan for sightseeing. Milan has always been an architect's playground and one grand house you can visit is full of staff who insist on telling you details that they think you want to know but, truthfully, I'm not interested in photos of the former owners or knowing where the wallpaper was made. Custodians like this are a pest as they waylay you with trivia. You have to exit via the gift shop, where some reproduction art-deco style jewellery caught my eye, but the old woman in the shop went on and on about how I should buy a pot of their fancy overpriced home-made jam. If she'd been intelligent she'd have realised that I was interested in jewels not jam and might have made money off me but her well-practised jam harangue was the only thing on her mind. What a pest! In the end I got fed up with being lectured about the merits of jam and left.
|Villa Necchi Campiglio, Milan, 1932-35. A move from art-deco (Liberty) style to fascist realism. Both a museum and a place for jam diatribe. Fascists!|
Am I some kind of brooding antisocial bitch whose willful ways won't be swayed by posh jam, the advances of leering drunks, or the intimate queries of the overcurious? I don't think so. Let people browse in peace and leave them free to ask if they want to. Mind your own business about what's in my underwear - I don't ask you about your wobbly bits, do I? Never deadname a trans person or try to find it out. And, guys, just don't be a pain if you want a date. Be friendly, polite and don't pressurise and we'll see if we can have a nice chat and if that goes anywhere. At worst, we'll have had a pleasant enough evening.
These things do seem to need spelling out to a lot of people, though!
Coming up on Sue's News and Views...
I mentioned a few weeks ago that I was reading Frans Waal's book on human and ape gender. A good book by an expert who's made some positive discoveries about being trans (and some worrying ones about being human). More on that later, as there will be on Chelsea Manning's just published memoir Readme.txt, which I have just bought and am very curious to read. Also, more on Milan sightseeing including frocks like these ...
... and like this!...