Gender Identity Disorder
I love snails. After the rain in California, the damp earth drives them to the sidewalk. Usually in twos — they move along in parallel, but slowly. They are hermaphrodites. That means that each one has the requisite sex organs to function as both sexes. It must be very hard for them to get together as a couple. First they have to decide which one is going to be which sex that day.
I had a patient once who tenderly explained to me what that situation could be like for humans. Last I heard, I am pleased to report they are a most excellent couple. People really can find happiness. Some people do not know the road until they are already on it.
“I’m heterosexual and proud of it. Do you need a reference from my husband?”
Such was my response to a drop-dead-gorgeous male transvestite who sidled up to me once, at one of the unusual affairs my husband and I were accustomed to attending at the time, and wanted to know if I had been born male.
Oh, there were a couple like me, she said, and even if I were a lesbian, it would be so wonderful to have someone like me, a “professional” woman, for a friend.
Oh, there were a few like me, she said, who did not care as much as they ought about appearance, and she wanted desperately to have an opportunity to make me up a bit, and maybe even lend me some clothes.
I declined, as politely as I could. I actually gave her a card, told her we could have lunch, if she wanted. She (I had learned to call people by their publically identified sex) told me she had run out of cards. I told her to just call, and I would be available for lunch, and I was certainly open for friendship.