'Six Feet Under' this week - the hitch hiker episode - reminded me of the weird way that, in violent situations, the person who is going to beat you, kill you or rob you so often wants you either to be his friend or to let him moralize at you about how it is necessary that he do this. This has happened to me on occasion and David's experiences in the show reflected my sense of all this to an extent that made it physically painful to watch. I found myself remembering a variety of bad times, which, though, I survived.
I suppose I am lucky given what has happened to other people I know. Never scarred or maimed and only three serious beatings and one rape and no arrests - the foolish gawky young transwoman I used to be obviously had an angel watching her.
I did get one assassination attempt though.
I'd done a press article about the need to support gender reassignment surgery on the NHS and that meant that my photo was in a newspaper. The next night, after an entirely unconnected row in the Bell, I was looking for a cab by Kings Cross and someone pulled up beside me claiming to be a mini-cab.
Being a sensible person, I said 'no, I haven't called for one' and walked off to the black cab rank. I thought it odd that the driver called after me by name but I was not entirely sober.
I got a taxi and rode home and started to walk along the courtyard outside my flat. Suddenly there were headlights and a roaring motor and I had to dive between parked cars to save myself - the car which nearly hit me and which roared away was the so-called minicab, who had obviously followed my taxi.
Things happen to me, but luckily not recently.