Gender and the Bathroom

I've started wearing ties again. Oh Fuck, it's been about two years since I felt comfortable enough in one. Let's just say that the elements I surrounded myself with in the time in between were rather quick to judge and I fell for it, slowly but surely cutting out the little masculine things I enjoyed. At the time I was kidding myself that I was fitting in. Now I see it as a major setback in my personal gender explorations.

Anyways, tonight I stepped out in a dress shirt and a tie. Apart from the fact that my chest still sticks out far more than I'd like it to, I looked good. I was happy. All I needed to do was to avoid checking myself out in side profile and I'd be fine and confident in my manufactured masculinity. Happy and fine as a non-gender-specific polymorphous individual.

I'm lucky to be sharing a very supportive environment now. The people around me are not just okay with me expressing who I am, they are encouraging me to explore it more, even. It feels great to be filling out my own skin again.

The fact that there are differences between my reality and that of other people became apperent when I went to the bathroom at the club we were having dinner at just this evening. I went to the bathroom for obvious reasons, and also to tidy up my apperance. I adjusted my tie in the mirror as I was turning to leave. At the same time, a poor older lady was walking in. She looked at me and I could see the embarrassment in her eyes. Panic that she'd walked into the wrong bathrooms. She walked backwards out the door and checked the sign.

Shit.

First thought: I don't want a scene here at all.

Second thought: Fuck you, lady. I wear who I am on the outside. I'm sure you piss in the same bathroom as your husband at home anyway.

Such a dilemma. I felt for her confusion, yet was angered by her narrow-mindedness.

Perhaps I just need to remind myself that other people's thoughts and reactions are their own, and not mine?

Object of Affection

I want one.



It's rare these days for me to make a decision based on pure sexiness of an item. I tend to be influenced more by functionality of an item rather than looks. A nice, sleek looking car? Why the hell would you do that? Can you fit a drum kit in the back of it? No? What the fuck would you want it for then??

But wait just one second.

I want that one.

It gave me a funny feeling in my crotch. It made my mouth open. It made my eyes glaze over. It made my heart rate quicken and I don't want to stop looking at it. I want to stroke it.

What the fuck will happen when I sit on one?

Train Station Goodness:

I love trains. Always have. Watching them, hearing them, travelling on them.

Train stations will always hold some hidden little smiles for me - a surprise flower growing between the tracks, the weird way an underground station smells in all it's tiled clinicity, the fifty people all gathered under the clock as a meeting spot. There's graffiti, one of my favourite visual excitements, and usually there's a slogan to make my mind twist.

On the way into Sydney recently to see the Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras parade I caught sight of a beauty at Waverton station: a beautifully painted station fixture sign that said

Alight here for Beautiful BALLS HEAD

... and we all know what comes right along with balls, don't we? But there's plenty of those types of heads floating around already and I'd rather not like to spend time with them!