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!