Frotteur, frottage, grotty gropper space & dignity.
I was fifteen years of age in 1986. It is a difficult age for many kids be they male or female or trans. I as it happened was and still am male. At fifteen unlike most males of my social class through history I had not been introduced to sexual intercourse at a brothel or bordello by an uncle. At fifteen I had thanks to an uncommon ability at classical music been lucky enough to earn contacts and win scholarships with individuals far advanced in years and beyond my skills. I enjoyed both a peer group and an enviable collective of mentors. I was a very lucky chap. I had been excused sport activities throughout my school years those hours being given over to music practice and study. Thus I never really engaged in locker room chat. I spent most of my free time between school terms or semesters at master classes organised by my teacher and his partner which saw during the cold war experts and maestros brought to Ireland. I was learning about meritocracy and the ways of the elite. I was learning about the peculiarity of those people who believe they are “alphas”. I fell into what I suppose was a cosplay phase. Unlike many of my age who showed their individuality by going “goth” or “punk” or “rocker” I chose “vintage” the “young fogey”. I wore very old fashioned clothes because my hero composers had done so. I swanned around in flannels and waistcoats (vests to american readers) and boasted a look which today is I suppose a subculture of hipster or something even more sinister. I took pride in knowing how to knot a bow tie. My main instrument was organ & I even enjoyed a small stipend and income which supported my sartorial fancies. I started an apprenticeship at organ building at that age. I got to travel around Ireland and England, playing instruments in cathedrals and chapels and getting to look below the hood at the inner workings. I was a lucky chap.
To cut a long story short, classical musicians are known and have been studied to evince androgynous body language through their teenage years. The boys seem a little bit queer the girls seem a little bit butch and the trans seem a little bit less so.
One day I sat in my Lord Alfred Douglas “Bosie” costume. If I had been quized then I would have felt more affinity with his Irish lover Oscar Fingal O’Flahertie Wills Wilde. He was the finer poet. He was Irish. He, I maintained even then had been underestimated as a personal catestrophe of Anglo-Irish privilege and English snobbery and a reluctant socialist who…, Another story another day’s work back to the blog post in hand.
One day a few hours after I had played for a wedding celebration and all the guests had moved on, a car, an expensive car stopped as I lounged languish and coquettishly at a road side bench. The driver asked for directions. They were not simple. This was before GPS. I happened to be going the same way. I got into the vehicle. The man told me he spotted for a model agency. He gave me his business card. One minute later I felt a hand grab my crotch. The hand squeezed. I was not gay. I am not gay. It did not matter if I was or not. It did not matter if I was cute. It did not matter how I dressed. It did not matter if I was stupid to get into a car simply because someone handed me a card advertising them as a spotter for a model agency. It does not matter if I went on the books of that agency later in my life. I learned something that day which i still know today. Those who invade the space of others have contempt for the dignity of others.
I have no vote in the US presidential election. Perhaps some readers do.
I am simply one of those rare creatures. I am a polymath & polyglot, I enjoy a below average income and relish exceptionally high quality of life. I have been lucky and privileged. I am male. I was sexually assaulted and groped. Yet, but, however and notwithstanding : I am an alpha male. Neither my children nor grandchildren will ever be educated to consider any kind of threatening vulgarity acceptable. It shall matter not what their gender or sexuality be. It shall matter not whether they are richer or poorer than I. It shall matter not.
OR it shall matter all. Sometimes these things really do matter. A great deal.
When my true love grabs my loins in public she does not do so because she is rich, famous, a celebrity, an alpha. She is only one of those four things. (the difficult one to be). She does not lunge groping at my groin because she has the right. She does it because love permits her the privilege of my space. & coz I make this squeeky noise too which turns both of us on.