Bruce of 1972: "Bruce, is that more or less you?" Bruce of 2015: "In some places, more...some places, less."

If two or three broken marriages, two or three sets of kids, setting the record for the decathlon, which earned him a gold medal in the 1976 Summer Olympics of Montreal, taught us anything, it taught us that William Bruce Jenner never takes the road less traveled.  Now that Bruce Jenner is 65 and divorced from the Kardashian matriarch, switching lanes, it seems it’s all about earning some shine for himself alone, garnering a little attention for himself alone.

Alone.

Alone is an interesting word.  This has to be the loneliest time of Bruce Jenner’s life.

Will Bruce ever be this happy again?

In a world of over 7 billion people, only 1 in 30,000 men seek the transition to female via sexual reassignment surgery.  For those of us who shudder at the idea of the shiny silver scalpels of sexual reassignment, we wonder what fantasies—what imaginings—make up the reality in the mind of the person seeking gender transitioning.  On a basic and shallow level, we just wonder why a good-looking world-renown athlete would man down, scoot down off the coveted high sports podium, only to kick off his Adidas’ to walk in old lady shoes.

We wonder whether waiting till he was a prune to get his branch pruned was out of respect for his children.  And most everybody, wonder if the divorce from Kris Jenner simply stopped his heart . . . as a man.

We wonder if we can believe Bruce Jenner when he says he had been dreaming of womanhood for some time now.  We wonder—if he understood what it means to be a biological woman—if transitioning would be as attractive.  Most women, if they were men, would be far too vain to wait till the collagen sank from their skin with age.  Women wonder if he knows how much maintenance is involved in being a woman.  Does he know the aggravation of pantyhose, untwisting one leg so the crotch is centered without ruining the whole pair?  Has he ever worn high heel shoes (only to have them return the favor and wear him right on back out of them)?

We also wonder if what pulled the trigger on this drastic decision was dissatisfaction with the dampening effect aging has on a man’s sexual aspirations.  As a consequence, we are left to wonder which gender he’ll date and what circles he’ll travel in.  Is he a lesbian now?   Or will being a woman make it easier to fasten on a pair of Louboutins and finally prance on out and be gay?

“Questions like these may never be answered fully or truly whether the answers are told to Bruce Jenner’s first or second family or to Diane Sawyer squinting into his private life to the utter delight of her voyeuristic public.” 

Ultimately, we will always wonder why persons with Gender Identity Disorder are ever allowed near sharp objects or doctors with Sharpies for outlining their objectives.  It is as clear as a top coat of Sally Hansen.  There is no true need, no real necessity, for any chip off the old block to desire hooker-red nail polish, French manicures, plump lips, diamond-studded earrings, long hair of the ombre and voluminous kind, or the laryngeal shave to soften the appearance of his Adam’s apple.

All an American icon or anyone with Gender Identity Disorder needs is God, a patient and loving support system, and a therapist . . . or two.  And maybe someone who is strong enough and fearless enough to tell him, “No.  I know you, Bruce.  Attracting attention by attempting to change what’s outside will never satisfy or quiet the screams of the soul seeking healing attention on the inside.”

Most of us don’t feel happy for Bruce.  Mostly, we feel sad for him and pity for his children and a sort of deep down disappointment.  Or, maybe, that’s just me.