I used to play tea parties! It's worth noting, though, that [a] this was the 1950s, and [b] tea parties were not a feature of everyday life. Therefore, I deduce that I played tea parties because somebody always bought a dolls' tea set and there wasn't much else you could play with it. Lego tea cups would have been a lot more useful. The classic doll toys that were used until they broke were not the house (lovingly hand-made though it was,) the kitchen or the picnic set. They were the shop and the garage. I only had one friend, Ellen, whose toys and bedroom were frilly & girly. I recall being stupefied on my first visit, then finding that other girls who'd visited were equally bemused by her stereotypically girlish environment. I envied her, but even then knew I wouldn't want to actually live with all those frills & bows. I told my mum it was like a fancy cake 
Still loving these posts, especially yours, vezzie. You're doing a brilliant job of saying what I was thinking, only better!
Tentatively, I'd develop it by saying that the person who'd had a shit day used to drink in that bar regularly, using their expense account. Yes, they were also deeply unhappy about who they were and the restrictions society placed on them. But they're used to being there and getting served promptly, like the others. - Very cool extension, Buffy. This happens to me with being poor. I have been borderline destitute and vulnerable for many years now but, apparently, still convey the impression of entitlement that came with my education and overpaid career. I'm told this is why I can't get as much help as I need. There's not much I can do about it, though: faking it will seem fake. The shadow of privilege, it seems, lingers long after the real thing has gone.
I've come here with a home-baked psych theory. My theory is about fear of the feminine. It's very usual, when we're afraid of something, to attempt to own it and, at the same time, to parody it. It's a coping tool. Think of the Allies performing Hitler-esque song & dance routines, complete with goosestepping (and the Germans performing Haw-Haw skits on the English.) Sexual abuse survivors often go through a phase of exaggerated promiscuity, trying to reclaim their sexuality by over-performing. We all loved Harry Enfield's Loadsamoney character in the 80s, as the banking industry tightened its grip on our lives.
If I imagine a privileged male who, for some reason, feels very oppressed by cultural expectations of boys & men, I imagine he'd try quite hard to 'perform masculinity' in order to gain approval. Perhaps he is an abused boy, or perhaps he simply isn't built in the rugby-club mould: in any case, he feels forced to be what he is not. He perceives the punishment for his 'manly failures' as severe, so must suppress his delicacy/vulnerability as hard as possible. Meanwhile, of course, half the population apparently escapes these pressures; observing this, our unhappy man labels the hated, feared and buried part of himself 'female'. His abusers might even do this for him, with their admonishments for being like a girl.
What we most fear in ourselves is what we loathe in others. Like the sexual exploitation survivor, we often unconsciously act it out in high relief. Without intense examination, though, parodic ownership doesn't remove the negative associations. The actor continues to hate the part s/he acts, even developing rape fantasies with their suppressed 'self' as victim.
This is so half-baked I'm not even sure whether to post it, but I've nowhere else to put it 
I also want to clarify I've got no intention of belittling gender dysphoria - I hope any readers will understand I'm just exploring a thought, not claiming to know more about it than its sufferers.