I am a 25 year old butcheyfemme queer with rubbish on my mind and sparkles everywhere else
Today I tried to make eye contact with people on the tube. I have noticed that people are very reluctant to look you in the eye for even a milli second. The seem to think its ok for them to press their entire weight up against you so they are practically slippin’ you the tongue but they just wont look at you. Tubes are an intrusion of privacy and there is no such thing as personal space so maybe choosing where the direct their eyes is the only thing they have control over. Personally Ijust think it’s rude. So I set out on another self made mission to get someone to look at me, not in a leery pervy way, just a kind of acknowledgement or something I guess. It all started off innocently enough, glancing at people now and then but when everybody that entered the tube refused to meet my eye I got deranged. My eyes started flitting profusely about every time someone moved. You know the ancient Action Men you used to get where you could make his eyes move by playing with a switch at the back? That’s what I looked like, tho slightly less cool. My hair became loose and large after so much vigorous head movements. And still no one would look at me. Not that I could really blame them after freak like episode mind you. Once I calmed down I found that someone did look at me, two fat ladies all rolled into one gave me a dirty look cos clearly Britney was up a notch too high. A lesbian, ageing with fluffy hair that moved upwards and slender fitting half mast trousers sat across from me. I knew she would HAVE to look at me, me bein a better looking queer than her an all so I slipped out my lesbo fiction title and cracked it open and look she did. I got a wink and shy head tilt and I got all flushed. Actually she just glared at me as if to question why on earth I was reading a lesbo thriller upside down. Oh well. So if anyone ever meets me on the tube please look at me, but not for longer than 2 seconds cos that’s just weird (yeah I mean you, stinkin’ balding man from East Finchley).
The other thing about close proximity on the tube is it leaves open an option for fanny tickling. I was told a story about an Eleanor who was young and naïve and never been touched… It was also her first time in London with Margaret and the hapless ladies knowing nothing better got on the tube at rush hour (every hour on the tube is rush hour in my opinion) and was crammed into a carriage with her arms held aloft. One she got them in this position, holding onto the upper bar, she was unable to move them. And this is when he struck. The random fanny tickler had a perfect victim. He reached round poor Eleanor and had a sneaky feel and there was nothing she could do but wince and wriggle (which actually lead her to enjoy the experience) and no one came to her aid as her lips were slightly stirred. Traumatised she was.
And since the telling of this generations old story, I wondered if when I embarked on my trip to London whether I too would experience the wonder that is fanny tickling. I have not. I am sure someone tickled my ass, I defintley felt waving finger motions, really I did but the purpetrator was a 13 year old acne ridden freak so I didn’t pay too much attention.
This beahviour may well lead me to become a random snatch fiddler myself, if I can’t be the victim of such an anus crime then I shall at least make sure others are.
Oh and the American chick called me cute today for listening to Britney Spears, Slave 4 U dance version if anyone’s interested. How right she was.
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People with more faces than I have chins
BAD GIRLS (TV only)
3/01/2002 11:35:00 AM
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