The opposite of that old guy's cluelessness
would be experienced butch-baiting, like the
homeless guy who followed my girlfriend and
me down 5th Street sneering, "Which one's the
butch? You the one who fucks her, or the
other way around? You the big, tough
butch? How tough are you, butch?" I had
the wine bottle we were taking to dinner
out of the bag and its neck in a good
grip before my girlfriend talked me
out of it. Just once, I think,
wouldn't it feel good. (I hadn't
seen what she told me about
later, the board with nails
sticking out of it that
he was holding
behind him.).