On Gender Pondering

Never in my life did I want to be a man. I thought it might be cool, as I’m much more suited to be J from the show Animal Kingdom than I am to be any of the miscellaneous (Tater) Twots what got shagged along the way or any of the women on the show with little mothering abilities and typical attitudes that perpetuate stereotypes.  I would kill to be Raylan Givens from Justified, (FX born but from Elmore Leonard and now on Hulu in my favorite subhub) but would never sleep with the women he did nor any other. Most likely, I would be Klaus on The Originals from CW but on Netflix now because the pain inside far outweighs the ability to absorb any further. You develop a prickly outside, be that to people, and punish them for accosting you. That’s where I part ways with Klaus, because I want no power so I have no one to kill.

I can down a 20 Oz Ribeye like a fat cowboy who raised it himself and keep up with his arse on the beer count. I weigh less than 130 lbs… and am not a cowboy nor a boy of any kind. Born in the ignorant days of men, women, and maybe womens with peni, life was pretty simple. I had this thing plus two that men don’t have and cringed when females hugged me. I was, in all 100% assuredness, a WOMAN! Well, at younger ages a girl, I suppose. I never even thought about being a man.

In the current world, it is sad to see young people (and others older non wiser) being programmed by advertising and celebrities and friends, sorted and sundered hand devices and TV attachments soon left behind because they’re obsolete. The advantage some people have is that they do not want to be other people, have what they have, nor model themselves after anyone not known personally. I cannot imagine the pressure, pain, and fear that young people today must face. If you have an issue within that, it is none of my business to know nor to judge. I welcome all of you; but never expect me to remember new pronouns and code signs whether on that or from gangs. If you were Henry the entirety of the life I knew you, I may slip and call you Henry when you got so damned creative as to become Henrietta; not that there is anything wrong with that, but…. If that’s as creative as you get with the name change of endless possibilities, my age is long and my mind is aged so fine it would sell for millions of dollars had it been born a car. It’s not a car.

If your car is cute and shiny and you opt to trade for a Harley I will still love you.  Hell, have both!

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