As so many of you must know by now, for the past year I have been romantically attached to Sam Villasencio, also known as Samantha Nicole Mendez. It’s not always been the easiest of relationships but we found, through our adversities, the real strength of our love. I know that proposing was the right thing to do but I put it off for a few months even after my mind was made up. There were many reasons for this, not all good, but not all bad either. But in the end I realised that it was something I wanted to do and that my motives were sound.
Although I am not really superstitious I wanted the most propitious circumstances. After all, this is Asia and Sam is Two-Spirited, with much power in the unseen world. So I wanted to give her a ring and do it properly.
So on St Valentines’s Day, we had a party for some friends and then I got on my knees and asked her. She said ‘yes’. Fortunately.
We don’t know quite when or how the actual marriage ceremony will take place. Sam’s a Catholic, I’m Church of Scotland — and perhaps more to the point, she’s a transwoman. I will keep you all posted but meantime keep an eye on my YouTube Channel
‘LGB’ culture in the West, from its beginning in the 1950s, was strongly transgressive, after the ideals of men like Harry Hay, one of the founders.
Hay was a card-carrying Communist Party member who finally realised that Communists hated homosexuals even more than mainstream society did; so his solution to destroying the culture he lived in was to use homosexuality as a battering-ram.
Women should not be hairy. Not if they want to attract men, anyway. I mean feminists have fuck all chance of attracting a man anyway, so for them, who cares? But for all other women, being hairy is a real no-no; well, it is if they want a man.
I’ll admit to being averse to hairy. I find it very offputting. Once, years ago, I was dating — in between relationships, having as much fun as possible; and believe me when I tell you, a single man can have a lot of fun in Manila — when I was approached by a femboy. A short-hair bakla, that is. He suggested meeting for coffee at a place near my condo so I couldn’t refuse. Jeff, he was called.
Sexual inverts, or, in males, ‘feminine homosexuals’ — along with a range of much less polite vernacular terms — make up a class of homosexuals which have been identified, for over 100 years, as having characteristics of the opposite sex.
I’ve just been reading over a group of papers on this, with one typical being Zucker 1993 ‘Physical Attractiveness of Boys with Gender Identity Disorder’. That is by no means the most recent, with numerous studies by a swathe of researchers making the same findings, along with 2D:4D finger length ratios and other measurable parameters.
The observed facts are that male sexual inverts are naturally feminine (and female ones are masculine.) This was first noted, in the modern era, by Karl Ulrichs, was written about in depth by Havelock Ellis and has NEVER been refuted. It remains the scientific consensus.
Ladyboy bars are gateways to Heaven. I hope this little video will help you visualise the legions of loveliness that populate them.
If you don’t know what the inside of a ladyboy bar, is really like I hope this little video will help you visualise the legions of feminine — and available — loveliness that populate them.
I found the video below a few years ago and decided to re-edit it to Billy Idol’s ‘Rebel Yell’. It’s an all-time favourite and frankly, is far more in tune with the passionate yelps of a toothsome young transgirl in bed than the music the video originally had!
You’ll need a ‘guest-friendly’ hotel, if you don’t use one of the ubiquitous short-time hotels which are, by definition, open to customers bringing along a girl or three. Although generally, budget hotels are fine, it’s probably better to avoid those run by farangs. I have to say, with regret, that the only time I’ve ever had any real issues with ladyboys in bars, restos or hotels in southeast Asia, it has been in establishments run by that species of bigoted Australian male who would, frankly, have been better left as a stain on his mother’s bedsheets.
The rules of a free sex market are simple. Women want money, so they fuck. If you have money, you get to fuck them. No money, no honey. Sex is the currency with which a woman earns tangible benefit; money is the tangible benefit needed to buy sex. It’s honest.
Walking Street, the pedestrianised area of Fields Avenue, is a delight to visit. There are many like it, from the original in Pattaya, to others across the planet. These are areas where a free sex market is in place.
Women go there to have sex and make money; men go there to spend money and have sex. Some just like to watch, all of life really being a fair in places like this, and alcohol lubricates the system.
I have met significantly more than a few Asian Autogynephiles (AGPs) and their profile is quite clear.
They tend to have their first ‘feelings’ at around the age of 15-16 and begin HRT, usually in the form of contraceptive pills, very soon after that. While late-transitioning AGPs do exist, they are rare. A good recent example would be Ian King, a racing driver and son of a wealthy ‘Fil-Am’ family. He is from an elevated social class.
This individual fits the Western profile of AGP exactly, but that appears to be related to his social class. This is interesting, because a similar social divide is found between masculine presenting homosexual males, macho gays locally or the New Gay Man, and the traditional highly feminised type. Here again, the former tends to be rare and found only in higher social strata, while the latter is both much more common and more associated with lower social class.
Ladyboys are like hobbits; they have big feet. Although, and fortunately, not usually hairy.
My dearest and truest friend, my distant confidante and beloved adopted sister, Andie, is sitting on the brown vinyl sofa in my rented condo in Pasig. She has delicately hoisted the hem of her long floral skirt with one hand and with the other she is holding one of her slippers — flipflops in Filipino — against her leg.
‘Ugh,’ she says. ‘You see? My feet are longer than half the length of my shin.’
She drops the slipper and the hem and takes to regarding her feet with evident distaste, elbow on knee, chin cupped in her hand. She wiggles her toes.
‘I could possibly cut them off,’ she muses. ‘I should cut them off.’
I found this story on a Philippines website, from a publication that is now defunct. The name of the author is not known. It gives insight into the gay pageant scene in the country and across south-east Asia, and also reinforces the observation that the ‘gay’ and transgender scenes are closely intertwined.
A pageant can be a small local affair with a stage set up on the back of a truck, or as grandiose as the Miss Tiffany contests, held in Thailand, or Super Syrena, in the Philippines.