Big guy; skinhead guy. Australian accent, lots of similar looking friends behind him.

Fuck you. That's what I want to say and that's what I do say. There's nothing else I can say.

"Do you like wearing skirts? Does it make you hard?"

Fuck you. That's what I've said and there's thankfully nowhere near enough time to think or try to interact meaningfully. John, I was only dancing. I'm fucking transgendered, you Neanderthal - I suffer from gender dysphoria. Paraphilia? Not I. Fuck you. His meaning is clear.

I could take you apart with my bare hands.

Fuck you. I'm here with lots of friends to whom I run away; this is a safe space and they throw you out after another fifteen minutes.

This is just one of the reasons that I've learned that really, deep down, I am scared.

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