There’s a man named Sean Somers that I have no reason to know. First, he’s a Canadian man, who lives far away from where I occupy time and space. Second, he is inordinately interested in things I find repulsive, including an unending ability to fetishize Catholic school girls.

And yet, I “know” this man, Sean Somers, because he has decided he is a woman, and like moths to a flame, all men who think they are women eventually feel the need to come calling to me, as if I am some game boss that needs defeating. And he is a man who has, in the past, done lip service to feminist viewpoints on transgenderism, so the more liberal leaning online feminists think he’s some kind of hero.

Sean now uses the name Aoife Hart; he used to call himself Emily. Maybe when he’s sick of fetishisizing Celtic culture he will call himself something else. It doesn’t much matter to me. I just observe, mostly.

From Sean I learned I am an alcoholic. I mean, it is written on a blog, so it must be true. And some other men tweeted it. So it’s become a fact now. Right?

No. Of course not. Like most of what is written by men who think they are women, the women obsessed with this issue, and the men and women obsessed with me, it is not true.

I am in Al Anon, which is a recovery program for families and friends of alcoholics. I am not an alcoholic, although I have dated a ton of them, and am the child of one. None of this is your business, of course. But because I have shared my experience, strength and hope online, men like Sean decide what my participation in Al Anon must mean.

This is online culture – call out, gotcha, gutless, compassionless, dishonest. It is a perfect environment for narcissists with little interest in honestly discussing thorny issues, let alone attempt to solve them.

I am as much of an alcoholic as Sean Somers is a woman.

I will leave it at that.