The other night I had a dream that my sister had talked me into crossdressing at Dave and Busters.
She had picked out this like sparkly red bugs Bunny sequined dress thing for me to wear, and so I put it on.
I walk out of the women's bathroom and I am immediately accosted by some older white dude in his like late 40s who's getting up in my face and saying, "what are you supposed to be, what should I call you should I call you ma'am, what should I call you?"
I realized there was no answer I could give this person that would make this go away so in my deepest most manliest voice, loud enough to be heard throughout Dave & Buster's I said, "FUCK OFF OR I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU".
AND HE FUCKED OFF WHICH WAS NICE.
But then immediately afterwards I realized that I was about to get kicked out of that Dave and busters while wearing a woman's dress.
I always have weird dreams but this is the first time I've ever dreamed about cross-dressing or Dave & busters. I have no idea what the fuck I was smoking that night.
If this happens irl I'll have your back. I'm totally comfortable replying with something stupid like "And what are you supposed to be you? I would call you 'sir', but you're not acting like a man."
I appreciate it but like I said I always have weird dreams and I just kind of have to go with the flow.
I dreamed once that there was a curse on my heart and that I had found a holy man, a wakan man, who could heal the sickness in me. And I'm Lakota, wakan just means set apart or holy.
So the wakan man arranges this path for me to walk in my mom's backyard and on each side of the path are my relatives and as I passed them they turned into bears.
Finally at the end of the path I stood there and the holy men made some motions and said some words that I can't repeat and then all of my family came together in their bear forms and fell upon me.
And I died.
And I was being escorted into the Afterlife by an amorphous psychopomp figure, and I noticed I had just come out of the door and this door was a wooden door with four glass panes in it and hanging from the four glass panes on the outside were three round Stones about an inch and a half in diameter wrapped in twine in a triangular formation with each of the stones touching each other.
I asked the psychopomp what those three stones meant, and it told me that those three stones were the sign of an accursed death.
Then we wandered off into the Afterlife and I woke up.
I didn't want to put out a brusque reply, partly to not offend anyone and partly so I don't get hoisted by my own petard in the future.
I dreamed when I was young that I had a machine that could alter the very fabric of reality. Turn dirt into gold, turn trash into treasure, change a person's body to be young and strong and perfect in every way.
I dreamed about how I could have the perfect male body, tall, fit, perfect in every way with such a machine, and then the thought crossed my mind that even if I was physically perfect in every way it wouldn't mean that a woman would want to automatically be with me because of who I am as a person.
That self-inflicted gunshot wound to the skull of my self-esteem dealt a heavy blow to my burgeoning manhood, and I don't know if I have really gotten over it despite having slept with many women and even married one of them.
That being said, I don't believe I have an egg to crack. I hate myself, yes, but so much so that even if I were different, either a perfect man or a perfect woman, it wouldn't fix what's wrong with me.
Being a woman won't make me stop hating myself, it would only give me new things to hate about myself and new yardsticks that I can't measure up to.
And aside from that, men are not attractive to me at all. Like, maybe hormones would affect that and change my mind but other stuff probably has to happen first before I even consider crossing that bridge.
All of that being said, I deeply respect the other people who are going through that. I can only barely imagine what it's like for them.
I know this is an old comment, and I think the intent was positive, but I don't think it's nice to aggressively tell other people they're misidentifying themselves (unless they are clearly looking for advice or making light of it e.g. 'ha ha still cis tho')
Hopefully this doesn't come across as scolding - it's not intended that way!
For real, people got to let go of "gender" as perceived by societal roles/ideas aka the views strangers and how they identify you.
Everyone should be rocking dresses in hot times! They are the closest you can get to the pleasantness of rocking it all balls out around the house, but with some sun protection.
I strongly encourage everyone to take up a sarong. And if you think that's "faggy" you can take it up with Polynesian warriors. Who, I'll remind you, were the only ones to actually fucked British Colonialism.
I don't like wearing pants much, usually only when it's really cold or something formal. At my previous job I was the only person who wore shorts. Some people from the sales department were jealous because they weren't allowed to wear them.
I had planned that if they tried to enforce it with us that I'd swap to kilts, and if that was a problem I'd have demanded that the ladies not wear skirts or dresses as that would be sexist.
I quit before it came to that, but a few more people started wearing shorts before I'd left, and that was enough.
I embraced dresses this summer, and will never look back.
Just around the house, mind, I’m not that brave. But fucking hell it was SO NICE getting a breeze up around my bits on the hottest days. Walking down stairs, the skirt billowing out and filling with cool air. Shit’s like a drug.
As a bonus, my wife thinks it’s hot.
So yeah, I’ve spent a bit on Vinted these past few months buying pretty skirts and dresses and sure, I’ve still got a beard and am kinda hairy, but I feel nice when I’m wearing them.
I wear kilts every day. I gotta tell you I am an old man and no looker for sure but women, young and old, compliment me all the time now. Even if I'm grubby from the garden or some project as I often am. It feels nice to be noticed like that for an old fella like me. My wife also digs it.
But why? Why should we wear gendered skirts? Why can’t we wear pretty, floaty skirts with bright colours and patterns? Why must all of our clothing be so rugged?
I have 3 kilts and they're oddly uncomfortable for me. Maybe I feel vulnerable having my bits swinging in the breeze? I could wear underwear, but that kinda kills the whole idea?
I'm not a looker and I am autistic, I can be awkward...
I was just at the grocery store getting ramen and coffee for the night.
This lady basically looked at me with disgust and went on about how creepy I was and how she's tired of men thinking they can just "Do whtaever they want", and how I need to "Keep my fucking distance"
I was literally just standing waiting to check out, all I said was "Don't mind me", and that was in response to her giving me the stink eye when I put my groceries down on the counter....
I understand she probably had a bad day (All she was getting was a ton of one person size ben and jerry's), but literally I was just standing there, waiting to buy ramen and coffee. She rushed out of the store like she couldn't get away from me fast enough.
I really had to fight the urge to say something like "Don't flatter yourself, I'm not even the gender you're accusing me of being." but that would have just escalated the situation.
I had just gotten off of work, so I was half-asleep, the coffee was so that I could drive the rest of the way home safely.
Still, if she's jumping at shadows of men even when there isn't a man around, whatever happened to her must have been awful. I hope she's okay wherever she is.