Can you smell the rosemary in the gravy?
[SIZE="2"]Let me tell you, my fine MtF friends, if you CAN’T smell the rosemary in the gravy, you can’t be much of a crossdresser, can you? Do your senses work? Can you smell, hear, taste, see, and above all FEEL the subtle differences that separate those who do from those who don’t? More specifically, do you stop to smell the roses, or the gravy, as an ongoing part of your heightened awareness, a thing that (hopefully) led to your crossdressing in the first place? I dearly hope so...
I guarantee that if you’re in the company of males, and you get your plate of manly meat-and-potatoes glop at the local diner (you know, on the way to your latest bonding ritual), you may not wish to reveal your innate aestheticism by commenting on the herbal aroma of the gravy. No, you can’t do that, because you may draw undue attention to yourself, and show everyone that you really aren’t one of the “boys.” Come to think of it, since you’re a MtF crossdresser, you’re one of the “girls” now – why are you still hanging out with other males? I suppose “hanging out” says it all, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves...
Years ago, I went to the opera with my sister, the second or third of many such occasions. This was back in Boston (the Metropolitan Opera was in town), and we had tickets for opening night, for Rossini’s The Siege of Corinth. For this special occasion, my sister made her own dress out of Marimekko fabric (a striking blue and yellow pattern), and she constructed a tie for me that matched her beautiful creation. I’m sorry to say that I was in drab, but I assure you I was dressed to the nines within those overly constrictive male parameters...
It was a beautiful opera, as operas tend to be, full of sights and sounds that make overly-sensitive males like me cry, causing innate feelings to rise to the surface among other gender-integrated pilgrims. Oh, the bliss! Of course, the next day, when I was among my fellow males, they all thought I was on another plane, and it wasn’t above them. I mean, the very idea! Going to an opera, dressed specifically for the occasion, enjoying vichyssoise with the rich patrons beforehand, and then being subjected to impassioned music and singing that is...European...and, worst of all, WANTING to go in the first place. I was derided for weeks about this. Translation: we’re MEN, so who, or what, do you think you are?
The male world is divided into two polarized camps – those who can smell the rosemary in the gravy, and those who can’t, or don’t care, so long as it’s gravy. The latter can’t understand the former, and I don’t know why. Are our male senses supposed to be deadened, and if so, for what reason? Is it to preclude having any feelings for beauty, or other people, or other ways of looking at things? Is it all too complicated, so sensibilities are pruned away for the purported good of one’s accepted take on things? What is so threatened, anyway? I get the feeling (there’s that word again) that it’s considered bad for males to dwell, or even contemplate, the realm of the senses. There are better things to do, and we don’t need any stinkin’ sensitivity, compadre...
If I blurt out “I can smell the rosemary in the gravy,” male eyes will roll, and I will be targeted with suspicion. I can think of many an occasion where a gesture, or a previously unknown word, has sent my male companion reeling backwards, afraid of what they are standing next to. Honestly, what is there to be afraid of? I know I can imitate typical male behavior to put my accusers at ease, but, the older I get, the less I wish to engage in this obsolete gamesmanship. I now declare my innate talent for sensuality, knowing that it’s all part of the same sensibilities that find their full expression in MtF crossdressing. I enjoy my feelings, and I want to exhibit this fact to all comers, regardless of any senseless male toes I may step on. More gravy, darling?
BTW, I know this is a strange topic, but I heard this comment on a TV show the other night (spoken by a male, at a good diner), and I thought it was a highly evocative thing to say. My thanks to the anonymous (and appreciative) gentleman who uttered it...
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the very nature of things.....
By their very nature, I think that there are many endeavors that require heightened emotions: the arts, music, writing, medicine--and many more occupations, and many pastimes. I think the problem with men is that it is not feeling the emotions, it is owning up to them. Surely even guys to go to football games get their knickers wet when their team wins, but they probably don't express it in quite the same way as we might "smelling the rosemary in the gravy".
Even Le Carre in the Spy Who Came in From the Cold, is sympathetic to his doomed creature. When he is shot, we feel for him and it is through the writing that we do this. He was used, and by extension, so are we, the reader.
There are many works by JS Back that can move me to quiet tears and he too was moved by his religion to write such wonderful works.
I can't seem to correlate the expression of our senses just with being a cd, but I think the lack of expression is a part of our male socialization that we still haven't gotten beyond.
I remember in the 70's or so, when Johnny Carson et alia, started hugging guys and guys were wearing jewelry--there was certainly a lot of phoney "commeraderie" and it could have been alright had it turned into something real, but it didn't stick very well. We've gone back to knuckle-dragging and mouth breathing.
I consider myself lucky to be a "feeling" person, with much of my life spent in and out of music performance, photography, and other areas where sensitivity to creating is part of the endeavor. Was I drawn to those things because I was a "feeling" person or did they turn me into one?
Those who don't or can't feel it are the ones we should have l sympathy for because they won't ever know what we have.We're kind of an exclusive club.
