But for me, telling her the truth lifted a weight off my shoulders
[Because it’s about his emotions, not the dying woman betrayed by her husband and caretaker who has to use her remaining strength to get the fuck away from him]. It took tremendous energy to spend my whole life acting
[Yeah, and it took a lot of effort to birth your sons, infected with your tranny brain disease, bro, but you’re not concerned about that. The self pity is astounding]. The day I came out to her, it was like the sun shone for the first time
[She was screaming, throwing vases to the floor, and begging God for an explanation, but at least this dude’s cock was hard while his sick wife dry-heaved].
Four days later, I posted in one of the trans Facebook groups that I’d joined
[Good priorities. Why apologize to your wives for a lifetime of lies when you could be posting?]. I wrote about how happy I was to be out and put up a photo of myself. The post got over 500 likes
[Oh wow, a tranny falling for the lame love-bombing typical of this cult, how shocking!]. Suddenly, trans people from across the world were telling me about their own coming-out experiences. It meant a lot to know that so many people were happy for me
[Exactly! Who cares if the women who bore your children hate you? The important people, other crossdressing men, agree with him].
A few months later, I came out to my sons and my stepdaughter
[So he forced his sick wife to keep her bitch mouth shut, regardless of how much pain she was in]. They didn’t see it coming
[Yeah it’s almost as if there is nothing intrinsically feminine about this freak], but they were very supportive
[I’m sure they said that]. My grandkids, in particular, have been great
[I hope they’re just humouring this freak for the inheritance, but I feel terrible for the ex-wife. Imagining your spouse abusing you in such a nightmarish fashion and your retard zoomer grandkids think it’s so heckin’ based]. They used to call me “Grandpa,” and one day I said to them, “I’d like you to call me Grandy now.” Just like that, they switched over without missing a beat
[Hey, you’re the patriarch, my man]. By then, my wife had also accepted that she couldn’t change my transness
[What a cute way of saying she lost all hope that he would stop hurting their family], and she decided to help me move forward. She gave me advice on painting my nails, adopting a skincare routine and styling my clothes. I appreciated her help
[God, this poor, poor woman. I hope she at least trolled him into matching colours badly or something women would find gauché like that].
I started seeing a therapist
[Probably should have seen one before he destroyed his family], who told me about Skipping Stone, a non-profit organization based in Calgary that supports trans people across Alberta and organizes Zoom peer-support groups. I joined one for transfeminine people over the age of 50
[the Grand Gigahon Group-Assembly, what a hilarious prospect]. Those first meetings were a shock, because I’d never met a trans person before
[if what Shannon Thrace and Ute Haggen, two famous trans widows, have to say on the subject is true, which I think it is, this is a lie and he’s had multiple men fuck his ass. Seeing tranny prostitutes is how this shit starts]. There was so much to process. Most of the members had been out for years, and they had all the answers to my questions
[Yeah, cults are great at having all the answers]. We talked about how to access hormone-replacement therapy, how to do your hair and makeup
[Hair and makeup are the only things that make women what they are; ignore the fact that this dude is at Norwood Stage Fucked Up], and how to present yourself in a feminine way
[Everyone knows that elderly Canadian men know the most about the subtleties of feminine behaviour]. Suddenly, I had trans friends
[He could just say friends and the line would still work; nevertheless they don’t join him on birding trips].
Within about six months of my coming out, my wife and I finalized our divorce
[He’s so repugnantly flippant]. We sold our house in Strathmore and moved into separate apartments in Calgary
[I’m sure this is what she invisioned for herself when she married him]. After we split, I felt much more free to express my gender identity
[He’s so much more free without that stupid crippled bitch ruining everything]. I’d put on a blouse, a skirt, jewellery and makeup, and I’d dance around the living room in a way I’d never moved before—like a girl
[Why is this elderly man obsessed with dancing like a “girl”?]. It filled me with joy
[his joy was straining the fabric of the skirt he stole from his stepdaughter]. I also changed my name and the gender marker on my ID
[So he falsified his identity] and met as many people as I could through Stepping Stone.
In September of 2022, I attended a picnic with the Zoom group. We met in the parking lot, all of us dressed up for a day at the park
[Knowing what I know about trannies, this probably included a frilly satin piece of negligée over stripper heels]. There were a few people standing near us who weren’t part of our group. The funny thing was, none of them paid much attention to us
[This is tranny speak for “people avoided eye contact out of shame and fear”. Canadians are famously polite, eh]. At that moment, we were just like everyone else
[except you freaks abandoned your families to beat off]. That was a powerful lesson—it inspired us to get together more often, and I realized we could be exactly who we were in public, and we probably wouldn’t get stares or nasty comments
[Because actual women raised with female socialization know better than to express disgust to a gigantic lumbering monster man in a dress unless she has a gun]. We started going out for lunch, chatting about our transitions and our lives. We could be ourselves with each other
[Unlike your bitch wives, right Brad?].
A friend had mentioned Rainbow Elders Calgary, a volunteer-run organization that supports local LGBTQ+ seniors. I started following the group on social media, and eventually, one of their upcoming events caught my eye: another picnic in the park. It was a spectacular spring day, and the park was full of families enjoying the sun. I spotted a Pride flag in the air and found my way to a small group of seniors. We started chatting right away. Some people tossed a baseball around, while others played ring toss. I loved the whole idea that we were here, queer and not going away
[Of course the heterosexual pervert is appropriating a slur against gay people while he brags about tanking his marriage]. Queer people, especially trans people of my generation, have done a lot of hiding in our lives
[Yeah, from your wives, from your kids, bodies with the skin removed, etc.]. It was nice to find a group that was out and about in the community.
Since the picnic, my involvement with Rainbow Elders has become a focus of my life
[Hopefully because his family sided with his poor ex-wife and cut this freak out]. The group is amazingly inclusive. There are lesbians, gay men, trans people—pretty much the whole rainbow
[Of which heterosexual men with kids are the most special, oppressed, and important. I’m sure the remaining elderly gays associated with this group are just thrilled men like Brad are there and in charge, after a lifetime of being a straight man]. Rainbow Elders marches in LGBTQ+ protests and advocates for queer seniors in care homes by putting together seminars for staff and residents
[This means making nurses and personal support workers clean amholes with a q-tip, and telling screaming elderly women that they better accept Lily Alice McAnimename as their nurse or she’s a stupid bigoted bitch who can rot in her wet diaper]. It also organizes monthly social events with activities like swimming and dancing and holds meetings where we take turns sharing our stories
[You show little girls your cock in the changing room, Brad?]. I love the opportunity to speak with people my age who have similar experiences
[and speak over gays, women, concerned parents, and normal men].
Recently, I led a bird-watching event at the Inglewood Bird Sanctuary in the heart of the city. I invited a friend of mine who brought a few other younger trans men with him
[Buffalo Bill alone in the woods with some pooners? Sounds safe], plus a group of Rainbow Elders. It was a cold and blustery day, but we saw some great birds and shared good conversation. Halfway through the event, one of the young men told me that he hadn’t left his apartment much, and he was thrilled to be outside, getting sunshine and fresh air. He said it meant a lot to be talking to real people, rather than texting or speaking on Zoom. Afterwards, we went for brunch at a coffee shop. The friend I’d invited later told me that the sandwich he ate there was the first decent meal he’d had in a long time. It was just a bird-watching event, but it helped people in ways I didn’t expect
[Grown man does nothing when confronted with a young woman going without food].
After coming out, you begin to change in quite a big way
[Yeah your cock changes in a big way when you wear a dress]. Everything can shift: who your friends are, who you can partner with
[Lesbians aren’t interested in you, Brad], how society sees you
[Yeah, Brad, you went from a normal father and husband to a subhuman family annihilator sex pest].
Many Rainbow Elders came out later in life too, and they understand what it’s like to have played the role of another gender for decades, and the difficulty of trying to shake that
[He’s trying to say that his one-man woman minstrel show is more funny and less convincing than men who have been doing this shit for years]. In our generation, there are so many people who have gone through trauma
[Like women in a Toronto domestic violence shelter who were raped by a tranny like Brad], especially at the hands of our postwar parents and a bigoted society
[And he takes one last swipe at his dead father]. Each Rainbow Elder has their own story, but we all share a similar vulnerability.
One of the group’s goals is to support queer youth in the city. So we often visit LGBTQ+ organizations in local schools and colleges to talk to—and more importantly, to listen to—the folks there. I recently met with a LGBTQ+ student group at Mount Royal University. It was beautiful to see so many young people out and proud
[So do you guys think he offered them money for sex or did Brad just take upskirt pics?]. Our stories as seniors are radically different from what youth are going through now. We talk to young people about losing many queer and trans people of older generations to the AIDS epidemic
[AIDS, something a heterosexual man totally understands]. And they teach us about different gender paradigms, like the term “non-binary,” which wasn’t a common label in my generation
[Because it’s a recent invention made to sell merchandise to retards]. Kids are coming out sooner—in elementary school, high school, university
[Of course this freak supports the mutilation of children]. A lot of them have supportive parents, which was just about unheard-of for my generation
[Narcissistic reversal - his parents are abusive for reminding him of his birth sex, whereas parents who castrate their children are supportive]. But in some ways, it’s also harder for young people to come out.
When I came out at 66, I was financially independent with kids and grandkids
[He got his brood mares and now he felt he could focus more time on cross dressing and ogling underaged girls]. Many young people don’t have those financial and social supports
[And I’m sure Brad is eager to help]. In Alberta, trans youth are also grappling with planned provincial policy changes that would limit their access to gender-affirming health care
[tranny speak for “protect kids from sterilization”] and mandate parental consent if students want to change their name or pronouns at school
[Oh, the horror! Parents knowing what their kids are doing, so scary for Brad!]. I see queer and trans kids as trailblazers, and I’m glad that we as Rainbow Elders are working to support them, listen to their concerns and advocate against the government’s anti-trans policies.
I’ve now been out for three years, and at this point, my transition is largely complete
[so he still has a cock and is okay with it]. I’m profoundly happier than I was before I came out
[his ex-wife on the other hand… well, who gives a fuck about bioholes, right?]. I used to be a quiet person who rarely smiled and barely had friends
[Typical boomer proto-incel type]. Now, I wake up every day looking forward to what’s ahead
[it’s amazing what turning everything into a sex game can do your mood]. I’ve become a social butterfly: I want to go and find people every day, and I’m always looking for the next Rainbow Elders event to attend. I’m finally the person I always was
[Barf].