A Respectful Ode to a Person of Indeterminate or Irrelevent Gender Identity, Whom At the Risk of Outting Them Nonconsensually, I'll Say I Met Last Night (if nobody finds it in any way offensive, that is)

A bit of explanation. On the Internet, especially in some newsgroups, there is a penchant for being way too politically correct, even when discussing the kinkiest of topics.

Some of these people have even devised a new set of pronouns, which avoid the problem of making unfair gender assumptions. The word SIE is a gender-ambiguous "he or she", ZIR is "his or her", HIR is "him or her", and so on.

I posted this to the Usenet newsgroup soc.sex.bondage-bdsm (ssbb) one day...

    It was half after eight, when I left my house in the Haight,
      For what I thought would be a wine-tasting munch.
    There was wine all right, enough to last late in the night,
      And I'd wager some for next Saturday's brunch.
    That's when I had met hir, and zir significant other,
      The latter to my unverbalized dismay.
    I tried to be charming, oh so polite and disarming,
      I feared I must surely have scared hir away.
    Sie'd seen my lapel pin, when last sie'd gone home to Dublin,
      Sie confided in an an amplified accent.
    Four bands of jet black, three blue and silver they backed,
      A little red heart at an angle left-bent.
    Maybe liquor was talking, but would sie like to be walking,
      I heard my voice asking as if from afar,
    With my face flushing red, surely soon I would be dead,
      Perhaps, my voice squeaked, for a scotch at the bar?
    Sie put zir hand in mine, sending my whole body fly'n,
      Half expecting some more capitulating,
    What a grand idea, sie enthused softly in one ear.
      Don't mind hir, sie then whispered, we're just dating.
    Into fog we then burst, and walked clear to Mission and First,
      Sie wrapped zirself to keep out the damp weather.
    We ducked into a crowd of large folk blatantly proud,
      Of their Harleys, loose morals, and black leather.
    The pub was too smoky, the retro music too hokey,
      I worked up the nerve to invite hir home.
    But as I was scheming and prob'ly more than half dreaming,
      Sie leaned close, zir hands on me started to roam.
    I flustered, oh, oh dear! Sie made zir intentions quite clear.
      What kind of person had sie mistook me?
    Sie opened zir pocket: two gloves, some clips and a socket,
      Sie smirked, saying 'one who'd know how to ...!'

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