From March 21,2008:

I use Yahoo Messenger for my IM’s, mostly because the vast majority of people I know use it too. And while it’s not perfect, it does work. I’ve also gotten a pretty large “friends” list, too. Most of the people I talk to online are really friends; people who I like and who I have either met in person or hope to someday.

And there’s a few who I won’t, and wonder why I ever “friended” them. They are Tgirls, who I thought were interesting or who contacted me. But after a while, I have realized their needs and mine are not the same.

See, I’m not a whore. Or a madam. My home isn’t a brothel. I am not a dating service, or a tour guide. I don’t do charity work for wayward trannies.

So why is it that people want me to:

* Have sex with them, even when they know I’m married.
* Want me to find them someone who’ll have sex with them.
* Want to come to my house so I can “entertain” them because they can’t in their own home.
* Want me to invite them to come to Dallas and spend time showing them around and “partying.”
* Want me to show them how to shop, dress, do makeup, behave, for nothing more than their gratitude.

Why?

What reason should I have to break up my relationship for you? Why should I find you a sex partner? Why should I bring a stranger to my home because they’re not out to their own spouse? Why should I spend days entertaining you? Why should I teach you when you’re not willing to do the work first?

Because we’re “sisters?” Honey, we didn’t come out of the same womb. Because I somehow owe you? No, I don’t. I owe a debt to those who have helped me-for no other reason than they wanted to. They didn’t ask for anything in return. And I’ve helped trannys who asked but didn’t grab onto me like a leech when I said “Now you do it.”

I’m finding that I am becoming such a cynic.

Oh, there IS a caveat. There are people out there who I’d do anything for. Who I regard as friends, who I care about, and who have shown me kindness through the years. They know me, my life, and would NEVER ask something that I couldn’t do. Those people always have an open invitation to my home, and I’d happily play tour guide because I enjoy their company. And I bet those people know who they are, too.

True friends have my heart. The leeches get my stompy boot.

This was a reaction to a series of requests from people who wanted a “friend” but really wanted a f**k buddy or a free makeover. And I just got mad.

Still mean this one, too.