Drinks as a Gender Issue - Discuss

Never blogged before...don't know if I want to keep it up but I'm trying it on for size.

First post
Controversial subject.

Spent the better part of the day (in every sense) with a female friend. Drinking coffee, walking, taking photographs.

I'm not very girlie. I'm short, dumpy and shortish haired. I don't possess a pair of heels and have no patience for make up and little time for jewellery.

I am however, a middle-class, white, straight, woman.

My companion today has more attractive bone structure; the most lovely liquid eyes; makes far more effort with her appearance and is always better turned out than me.

I frequently look like I've been dragged through a hedge with my muddy jeans and all terrain trainers. Like Timothy Winters, my hair is an exclamation mark.

But it's my friend who was referred to as "Sir" the other day.

I get cross with the world on her behalf (she doesn't ask or need me to do it...but I do, nonetheless)

She's transexual. Reasonably openly so....and there's no doubt when you look at her she is SHE.

In various conversations with her today various aspects of gender identity came up.

I get cross when I'm patronised in a camera shop by people (men) who think that use of a reasonably good camera is only compatible with the possession of a set of X&Y chromosomes. Some of my friends understand and agree. Others think I over-react a bit (they may be right)

I sometimes have a lunchtime coffee with a male friend. Each time he orders a mocha, I order a strong black americano. Without fail, when the coffee arrives I am offered the mocha...he the black coffee.

Another male pal and I frequently go to the theatre together. He drinks Tonic (with or without gin, as occasion demands), I often drink a pint of (real) beer. Again there's always a swapping of drinks.

I really didn't realise to what extent even the food we eat and the drinks we choose in public are gender specific.

My TS friend is cautious how she behaves lest someone calls her sir.

I can stumble wind-blown into a pub with my muddy jeans and tatty tee-shirt; order a pint of Timothy Taylor Landlord and a burger and chips (don't really like burgers...or chips but you get the picture) and I will likely be called "Ma'am" (or just conceivably "Miss" if the landlord's feeling charitable). They might think "now there's an unattractive woman" but they'll not call me sir.

So today at least, I'm counting my blessings and trying my very hardest to remember that I have it easy the next time a camera shop assistant tells me that cleaning my camera sensor is "no harder than baking a cake".