“Just panties”. Says who ?!?!?! He says it, they say it, our therapist tried to say it, even she says it. Even She!!!! She being all those other wives, partners and girlfriends of crossdressers. She being the poor woman who made the mistake of reading the books he purchased; joining the Internet forum he recommended; seeing the therapist he chose. Its nothing to do with sexual arousal or objectification of females. Oh, of course not!! And it’s perfectly understandable, isn’t it, since men’s underwear is always only and forever Tighty Whities or Abrasive Boxers? Right???
It certainly wasn’t a lie. Not “just a lie” in exactly the same way it isn’t “just clothes”. At what point does not knowing enough to say NO! to some “thing” you abhor, some “thing” to which you would never knowingly agree, qualify as rape? His perversion was not consensual. His hateful, hurtful, insulting femulation was not consensual. WE did not enter into this, together, as equals, out of shared choice. My attorney can make a case for fraud, but it ultimately may cost more than any settlement I could receive. It may cost me the assets which could be used to educate my children, to put a new roof over our heads when we escape. I can forego recovery of damages and just lay claim to those assets. Get screwed and take the money. Prostitute myself. It feels like rape.
I know I should feel moral outrage and disgust at my government for grossly violating my right to privacy, and I do! But… I must admit that my first thought was, “I wonder what the NSA thinks about all those smartphone photos of men in 1/4 cup bras, sheer lacy panties, seamed stockings, garters and high heels?” Can you image it? The never-ending data stream of crossdresser after crossdresser exchanging cellphone images and forwarding them to their Flickr, Twitter and blog accounts? Each of them trying to suck that gut in a little more, scrunch some more cleavage out of those pecs, grimacing their sexy smile, one arm extended as far as possible trying to fit that 6’9″ (including 5 inch stilettos) mass of fake femme onto a 2″x3″ screenshot. LOL!!!
And even better, some mindless hunk of metal, plastic and wires, analyzing at the speed of light the responding texts of “You’re so hot!”, “Sexxxxxy”, and “I’d do you!” No amount of mathematical modeling could make sense of this. I see terabytes of THAT DOES NOT COMPUTE flashing across the screen of some HTSI subcontracted flunky. Poor guy, eventually he will be forced to manually analyze the non-sensical data, at higher personal risk. He, too, will arrive at the same conclusion. It does not compute. Garbage in, garbage out.
They love being seen. So thrilling, knowing that you know. The excitement of you watching them practice their sexual fetish. The power of playing chicken: you forced to turn away, to close your eyes, to look down. That fast food wage slave so politically correctly corporate-mandatedly calling him “mam”. That pretty young thing shopping at the Mall almost making eye contact with him before stepping away from him as fast as her long legs will allow. And oh, how they love it when a real man, you know, a man’s man, or, actually, a woman’s man for that matter, sees the crossdresser for what he is and in grand, pathetic, pink delusion, they imagine that man wants to be THEM!