Softly, Gently, the Beauty of the Transgendered Manifests Itself
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I found myself thinking recently about transgendered persons as sex objects.
I don’t mean I was fantasizing about them.
Well, in a way I was.
I wasn’t treating myself to an inner movie of coupling with … er …
I used transgendered when I began. Not transsexual or transvestite. Though it can be a lovely thing I wasn’t dreaming of a penis under a skirt. Nor even fey gay lads in brightly colored shirts.
There were no pictures. I was basking in an abstract feeling, more intellectual than sensory that the gender atypical are more beautiful than the conventional paradigms. Just that their distance from the norm is …
Do you remember the first time you saw light pass through a prism? A wash of colors, each color gently fading into the next.
Erotic-aesthetic bliss without any need to reify it with a face or body.
A warm, happy feeling.
Thank all of you - whatever the heck you might be, maybe there is no word - for existing.