Two-thirds of recently polled lesbians claim they’ve been pressured or even threatened into having sex with trans ‘women’.
Whenever they exercise their God-given right to say no, they may be forever branded as transphobes or, even worse, terfs.
Now here’s your chance to prove your vocabulary is larger than mine. Do you know what ‘terf’ means? Neither did I. However, having done some lexicographic research, I’ve found out it stands for Trans Exclusionary Radical Feminist.
If a lesbian qualifies for the last two words of that designation, as most do, she must forswear the first two or bear the stigma of transphobia and terfdom. That effectively means being drummed out of the woke club, a fate than which nothing is worse.
To prove they belong, lesbians must commit not only their hearts and souls but also their genitals to this worthy political cause. That makes me intensely jealous, not to say resentful.
How come no woman has ever felt compelled to prove her conservative credentials by sleeping with me? Don’t answer that; my self-esteem is threadbare as it is.
Some of the comments made by the poll respondents are heart-rending. One lesbian complained tearfully: “I thought I would be called a transphobe or that it would be wrong of me to turn down a trans woman who wanted to exchange nude pictures.”
A fair exchange is no robbery, I say. And that same resentment is again gnawing at my heart. Why hasn’t any woman ever asked me to exchange nude pictures? Nor even any man? Not even in my younger, leaner days? Hold on a second… I need a long, stiff… drink to settle my nerves.
Another respondent faced a dilemma both moral and physiological: “I was told that homosexuality doesn’t exist and I owed it to my trans sisters to unlearn my ‘genital confusion’ so I can enjoy letting them penetrate me.”
The word ‘penetrate’ suggests that her sister hasn’t yet divested herself of the fixtures more readily associated with a brother. Indeed, the poor woman described her pursuer as a “pre-op trans guy.”
That pre-op trans guy wants to have the best of two worlds, or rather more than two. That’s too greedy for words. The chap strives to outdo Caesar by not only being “a husband to every woman and a wife to every man”, but also a husband to every man and a wife to every woman. How rapacious can one get?
But I too am confused, though more lexically than genitally. What does it mean, “homosexuality doesn’t exist”? It manifestly does, doesn’t it?
If I were that woman, I’d call the police and complain that someone has just committed the hate crime of being dismissive about my sexuality. That action would absolve her of disloyalty to the LGBT+ cause, although that dread word ‘terf’ would still be left wafting through the air.
One woman explained that lesbians’ standards are different from men’s. She, for example, would only have sex with persons who are biologically female, regardless of their self-identification.
My confusion deepened, for my standards are exactly the same as hers. I’ve never had sex with anyone or anything other than biological females, nor have ever been tempted to do so. I hate to keep referring solipsistically to myself, but have I done something wrong?
Another lesbian was told by a rejected trans that, given the choice between killing her or Hitler, he/she/it would choose her every time. Since Hitler was long since dead, that left her as the only available option.
I don’t know if the poor thing succumbed to that not-so-veiled threat but, if she did, that sounds suspiciously like rape. Oh sorry, I forgot. Only straight men can be accused of that heinous crime.
Do you ever get the feeling that life is passing you by? That other people are having all the fun? I do, all the time. But in this case I’m relieved to see that the fun I’m missing comes at a cost.
The woke ‘community’ seems to have much more stringent membership standards than any Pall Mall club. At the Carlton, White’s or the RAC you know exactly what the terms and conditions are, and they are highly unlikely to change radically in any foreseeable future.
By contrast, the Woke Club piles new requirements on every day, almost at the same speed at which it coins and enforces unlikely neologisms. How do those poor souls ever keep up?