I think there’s an element of high comedy when people try to pick me up on the streets. It may have something to do with the fact that I’ve never really understood the whole point to cruising, so I never really know what to say. Plus I’m not bitter enough to bite back with a sarcastic remark, so I pretty much talk as if I was at a debutante ball just as a matter social graces. Besides I am an optimist: I always imagine that guys who want what-many-guys-want-but-are-afraid-to-come-out-and-say-it always have the potential to be sweet, loving men, if given the chance. Well, anyway, the reaction on the individual who is propositioning, always tends to fall nothing short of gold. Just tonight, little innocent me is walking down 9th ave on the West Village when a fella comes alongside and starts with the “pssst!” (And this is me dressing like Shirley Winters dressing like Ernest Borgnine, mind you.) So the man starts with a, “you got a really nice ***.” I said, “Well, thank you for your kind words.” Then he goes into a “So, you like ***c* **c*?” And I returned with a “excuse me, I don’t follow.” When he goes to “My name is Jack Frost, and I like to get my **** ****ed,” I reply with these completely unrehearsed lines:

“My name is Pristine, I am pleased to meet you. You are an attractive man, I wish you the best of luck and hope you find what you are looking for.”

Is it any wonder why the standard image I have of men are guys standing in the middle of the street scratching their heads as I depart?

This entry was posted on Tuesday, April 18th, 2006 at 8:14 pm and is filed under Transgender. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.