These comments are offered in the context of the engaging observations made by Cyrsti, Richard, and Kelly (God bless ‘em…). Richard and I live in an area under the typical alpha-male bell curve defined by the phrase “outside three standard deviations” (of the average). In other words, we disconnect with about 95% of the males under the curve, in effect making ourselves almost alien to the population itself. I’m probably five standard deviations out, actually, which is where the social Twilight Zone begins.
My wishing to care for and love a T-girl has absolutely nothing to with domination. T-girls are infinitely unique and blessed/cursed in that they simultaneously live in two different worlds; and at the very least, they should be picking-up a couple of hazardous duty paychecks: one from Mars and one from Venus. It’s impossible (for me, at least) to have less than complete admiration for them, on this point alone. They can in good measure understand both men and women better than either group can understand themselves vis-a-vis how they view the OTHER sex. I think that’s precisely why Cyrsti can say what she says without equivocation. And why a T-girl admirer should love her sight unseen. (Read her blogs. You’ll understand why.) They can, among many other things, understand the intensity and frequency of the male libido and at the same time feel the emotional poetry of lovemaking from a woman’s perspective. With that mindset, who could ever better love you, male or female? This specific example can readily be generalized to near all-plus reasons for a relationship with a t-girl.
(I’m not locking out TVs or CDs.)
What remains to be said is more personal. T-girls, it seems to me, are almost always caught in fighting a two front war on more than a few levels: the personal, utterly individual drive of their own “spiritual DNA” versus the individual-less, cogwheel driven demands of “ 'cause-we-say-so” social norms; the mind/soul gender imperatives versus the constraints of the it’s-here-so-deal-with-it physical body; and surviving versus Living. To me, norm-ers’ tend to define “living” with a lower case L, which is tantamount to a plug-and-play existence: you show up (however incorrectly packaged); you’re plugged in; you run your life according to some faceless program somewhere; and then you’re more or less disposed of.
T-girls, on the other hand, innately want Life with an upper case L, certainly not always in the extreme, but surely with intensely enviable zeal, whether tacit or explicit. In a sense, this makes them rule breakers. An’ come on, guys. If you’re the least bit honest with yourself, you know somewhere inside that you WANT to be with at least a quasi-rebel. T-girls embody this, although they may hurt (and be hurt) for it at times. This has enormous appeal for us fringe dwellers. A T-girls is a very subtle, most sublime, and wonderfully beautiful way of giving clockwork society the finger. Love and admire her. Tell norm-ers to kiss it.
Last but by no means least: T-girl beauty. If I said it had nothing to do with my perception of the T-girl world, you’d know I was a damned liar. Is it all consuming? No, but HOW they “get there” is almost breathtakingly arresting. Most anyone can do lower case art: write a rhyming poem in near perfect iambic pentameter; paint a picture of a bowl of fruit; or mold a coffee cup shaped pencil holder from clay. Upper case Art, however, is much more rare. Upper case A Art will–by its very nature–move you in a manner you don’t fully understand (yet) and cause you to burn the bridge you came over to experience it.
The Crying Game is Art. It forever changed me. It caused me to burn my bridge and then thank God for the lighter. Likewise, T-girls are Art, inside and out, but supremely different in that they are Living Art. In them there is no separation of Artist and Art object: they are one and the same. A T-girl–in the foxhole of life–manages to take the raw diamond she is and by her own gifted hand and mind transform herself into the faceted diamond that radiates light in all directions. Imagine then, the soul-stealing privilege of making love to Living Art. It exists in no one but a T-girl. THAT is why I would love a T-girl.