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I Witnessed Sex Reassignment and homosexuality

June 26, 2017 Leave a comment

There are things about which I like to think. I try to understand things that are mysterious to me. I am surprised at what a failure I am in that attempt. I have tried desperately to see the point of view of people that voted for Trump, and continue to believe in him. It is simply not possible to understand how they feel. Perhaps they believe that all the news, from all the media, is merely lies against the great, truthful president. Of course, they are free to support their beliefs, and I feel sorry for them.

I think about sex reassignment, because it’s an amazing thing that it’s possible, thanks to medicine and science. Just today, I began believing that it’s an essential treatment. I learned that Canada’s Province of Ontario Health Insurance will pay for the surgery. They wouldn’t throw tons of money at a surgery that’s optional. I also assume they have research and testing that proves the need.

I have been a male heterosexual all my life. I have had gay employees, gay friends, gay enemies, and a few lesbian lady friends. I also knew a transsexual, and she was terrific, as a person. I was especially impressed that she earned a good living as a stripper. I try to imagine having an artificial body, and displaying it before eager men. Rachel could carry it off, because she had the haughty wit of a gay person, and the boldness of a woman.

She began her transition at 19. Her father is a doctor, and he helped her to get what she needed. Imagine how stressful it was for the man to witness the agony of his innocent son, suffering in his effeminate man’s body. Imagine his love for the boy, to use his position to smooth his son’s way to femininity.

For several years, Rachel was very happy. When asked what she likes to do on weekends, she says she likes to stay in bed, with her girlfriend on one side and her boyfriend on the other side. She’s playful and talented. On stage, her movements are fluid and rhythmic. Men are mesmerized, and don’t notice her male buttocks, which are higher than on women. The navel is lower on the belly than on females, and her hands and feet are a bit large for a woman of her size.

Her hair is long, flowing, silky blonde. Her face is pretty, her eyes are blue, her nose is not small, but neither is it large. She has nice cheekbones, a wide mouth and full lips, much like Mick Jagger. I haven’t communicated with her in several years, and the last time we spoke, I was sorry to hear she was unhappy. Her duality had become a burden, and she couldn’t find a comfortable groove for her life. She felt lost.

She was a terrific girl, a good stripper, intelligent and witty, and somehow, nature gave her an erroneous gender. She designed and made costumes for herself, and for most of the other girls. She lived in a vast loft in an old, downtown building, over a car wash.

I met a gay friend just about two years before he died. He was a successful fashion designer, and I engaged him to do some work for me. The work was terrific. I asked him how much I owed him. He responded morosely, “What’s it matter?”

This was obviously a cue to dig deeper. He was dying of AIDs. He was lonely and alone. All of his friends, gay friends and lovers, completely abandoned him. I didn’t know that gays ostracize their friends and acquaintances when HIV is around.

He was small, the size of a woman, blond hair and lean body. I liked him, and let him make dinner for me a couple of times, and played a card game; I don’t remember what it was. I took him to my hobby farm for a weekend. I got him planting things in the earth, I got him onto a horse and took him through the forest. I wanted to fill him with things his lifestyle didn’t include.

He finally got to where the ‘at home’ daily help from outside services was insufficient, and he was hospitalized. I visited him occasionally, and saw him waste away. One day, when I answered the phone, he said something muffled, and I couldn’t understand what it was. He mustered great control, and asked me to bring lunch. He wanted to have a couple of our city’s favourite foods.

“Lunsh,” he said. “Smomee, coshaw, billickel.” I interpreted that to be “Lunch, smocked meat sandwiches, coleslaw and sour dill pickle.” I went to The Main for our lunch, and took it to the hospital. The hospital is not fussy about what comes and goes on that floor, because everyone there is terminal, and can have whatever they want.

I sat in the visitor’s chair, and we ate the great food in silence. I was amazed at his actions. He was always fastidiously clean, and ate very neatly. In this case, his long, thin fingers plunged between the slices of rye bread, seized a chunk of sliced meat and stuffed it sloppily into his mouth. He ate the coleslaw and the dill pickle with his fingers. I had added an order of their fresh-cut fries, and he stuffed a bunch of them into his mouth, as well.

He sat on the side of the bed with the plastic thing that he was supposed to pee into. He was not fully there, and he held the jug in the wrong place, and peed on the floor. He didn’t notice, of course. We said our goodbyes and I turned to leave to inform the staff of the puddle. At that moment a young woman came through the door.

“Muh sisser,” he said. I said hello to his sister, warned her of the puddle, and went to the nurses’ station to inform them of the pee situation. They thanked me and called for the toxic cleanup department.

I returned to my office. He died that afternoon.

Five Genders

April 20, 2017 Leave a comment

Since the 1930s, evolving roles among the various sexual preferences have taken place. I certainly believe that each individual should be free to love, or covet, or even lust after any other individual that attracts them. The idea is, of course, to seduce your intended lover. A partner should never be held by force, but should always be retained by continuous honesty, gentleness, confidence, and warmth. The successful seduction is one in which the desired lover, in response, comes to desire the seducer.

When I was a teenager in the Rock ‘n’ Roll 1950s, you might not know how important a reputation was. Most girls avoided going ‘all the way’, for fear of being thought of as ‘easy’. Boys would press them to let them ‘get lucky’, but none would accept her as exclusive, as in marriage. Boys did not suffer the same fear. It was the opposite with boys; if he ‘got lucky’; he was a hero, a master. Many lies were told.

I can only assume that some young people of today are able to comfortably assimilate the advent of openly gay, lesbian, and transgender society. When I was young, it was rarely spoken of. I think back to one of the guys in our group. Michael was always popular with the girls, he dressed impeccably at all times, and was a terrific dancer.

One night when sharing a room with another of the guys in our group, Mike made a move on his buddy. The word got out, and we never saw Mike again. Don’t know where or how he went. I also remember a cousin, Sheldon, who was much like Mike in how he presented himself. He lived and worked in the artsy part of the city, and never mixed with the rest of the family. The girls said he was a wonderful dancer, too.

The contemporary liberty must be a great relief to many people. People had to live secret lives, always hiding a heavy secret. Pretending to be straight for the sake of appearances must have been very distasteful. I have found my own way to deal with the social changes. I realize what others do in their lives and bedrooms is none of my business, and mine are none of their business. Live and let live.

LGBT… WTF?

October 14, 2015 1 comment

I’ve decided to live the rest of my life in the belief that there are about six different genders in our society. It’s the only way I feel comfortable in accepting each new acquaintance as they are. That might not come about on the first encounter, because the way and place I meet them might not be their typical style and location. I always remember a man I knew who was an excellent house painter, a cut or two above the rest. And he was almost painfully shy, to the point where he couldn’t bring himself to use a toilet in one of the grand homes he was engaged to decorate. He would rush home to relieve himself and rush back to continue working alongside his older brother.

This painter was tall and lean, and his inferiority complex led him to have a persona that was awkward and tense. This same humble working man would occasionally put on a descent suit, shirt, tie and shoes for a family celebration of some kind. It was like looking at a different person. He was still awkward and tense, but if he wasn’t doing something typical while dressed up, I swear he appeared to be Prince Philip of England. If a person met him at a dress up event, they would take him for a successful society chap, jet-setter and all that. He was so awkward and tense, he feared driving his little sedan-delivery a few blocks to a store in a light rain. But I digress…

To enumerate the varied genders, I begin with heterosexual males and heterosexual females. Then there are lesbian, bisexual, gay and transgender. There are others as well, but they are usually variations on the basic six genders.

I recall my own young loves, as simple as seeing a girl across the gym floor at a high school dance. There was a nervous excitement about crossing the room and asking her to dance. If I was a gay young man or a lesbian young woman, I suppose I would look across at a same-sex student and wish to dance with him/her. The discomfort with which these people live must be a terrible burden.

I now sincerely believe that each of the genders is, in its way, natural. DNA, nerves, molecules and chemicals form within us from the first assault on the egg by the sperm. Therefore, it makes sense to me that each of these individuals is absolutely normal, if not average. There does seem to be some extra talent or taste or creativity in the non-heterosexual community, and I envy that.

I am what I am, you are what you are and they are what they are. In every case, none of it is anyone’s business other than the individual. It’s not my business what anyone does to make love, and it’s not their business to know my ways.

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