Cos, there is a front, you know. My friends are mostly so groovy that they find it hard to imagine that cross-dressing in public, day-to-day, is actually fucking HARD. It’s draining. People stare. They point. They fail to pretend they’re not talking about you. They shout at you. They pretend to chat you up. They implode with embarrassment. They don’t want to be seen talking to you in case someone thinks they’re – you know – with you. They stumble over pronouns. They give you UNSOLICITED MAKE-UP TIPS. They misapprehend you. They try to fuck you. Okay, that last part is pretty cool.