The lonely life of trans influencer Dylan Mulvaney

It’s been a tough year for Dylan Mulvaney.

Twelve months since the launch of her hit TikTok series, Days of Girlhood, she’s made hundreds of thousands of dollars, gained allies in the White House and elbowed her way into the world of Hollywood celebrities.

Still, the rigors of social media stardom are taking their toll. The 26-year-old underwent painful facial surgery and was upset when a fan posted her personal phone number online.

Now, the trans girl has revealed how her personal relationships have collapsed, that she’s struggling to get a date, and that she has yet to be kissed ‘like a girl’.

Mulvaney’s online transition series, which has 10.8 million followers, was always weird. But her recent impersonations of a fictional six-year-old girl named Eloise, who lives in a luxury hotel, and dressing her up as a child doll, have taken that weirdness to a new level.

“Dolls be dolls, please,” Mulvaney said in a recent clip, sporting a bright print dress, braided hair, bows and colored circles on her cheeks, before turning for the camera. ‘Dolls be dolls, please.’

The sequence makes little sense. It’s just another chance for Mulvaney to dress up and repeat a mantra of transgenderism: that people can identify as whatever they want, and those who disagree make nasty enemies.

However, from a business perspective, the series makes a lot of sense. Mulvaney was left without a job when he hit the Covid-19 pandemic and shut down the Broadway musical in which he starred, The Book of Mormon.

Since then, Days of Girlhood has been her source of income.

Every time Mulvaney endorses a cosmetics, credit card or fashion brand, she makes about $75,000, and perhaps double that when she also posts on Instagram, said Assil Dayri, a social media expert and founder of AMD Consulting Group.

That adds up to $1 million a year for Mulvaney, who is represented by Los Angeles-based Creative Artists Agency (CAA), according to estimates provided by industry experts. CAA did not respond to our emails.

The University of Pittsburgh reportedly paid $26,250 for a Mulvaney presentation this month, according to the campus newspaper. She also makes money selling pink sweaters for $54 each, in her range of girl-themed merchandise.

Dayri praised Mulvaney for keeping fans “extremely engaged” with her “journey and her evolution” and gaining millions of followers as she transforms into a “public figure, rather than a content creator.”

The hard work has paid off. Mulvaney bought a house in Los Angeles, shot videos from a luxury resort in French Polynesia and spent a week at the $800-a-night Plaza Hotel in New York City.

Mulvaney’s rise among social media influencers was evident this month when Vice President Kamala Harris wrote him an anniversary letter to celebrate his “365th day of authentic living.”

He had already met the boss, President Joe Biden, at the White House, in October.

She has also appeared alongside celebrities such as Paris Hilton, Drew Barrymore, and Rachel Brosnahan, the star of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel.

But those pairings don’t always work. Barrymore was criticized for kneeling at Mulvaney’s feet on his talk show. Even more embarrassing was the moment Mulvaney cajoled Laverne Cox, the trans woman star of Orange Is the New Black, into a TikTok parody.

The lack of rapport between the two women was palpable. Mulvaney repeatedly interrupted Cox at last month’s annual Grammy Awards, when the star offered some scathing advice.

“It’s crazy that you’re documenting so much of your life,” Cox said.

‘Make sure you keep things to yourself, not everything can be for the public.’

There may be something significant below the surface here.

Mulvaney has gained allies in the White House and Hollywood, but has struggled to gain a foothold in the trans community and is often described as more of a drag queen, pantomime artist or con artist.

Its authenticity is frequently questioned. Chloe Cole, a prominent detransitioner, said Mulvaney was not a “real trans kid.”

She underwent ‘facial feminization surgery’ in December, describing ‘crazy swelling’ from alterations to her hairline, chin, jaw, cheeks, nose, lips and windpipe.

Although painful, the surgery was cosmetic and is rarely the first gender-affirming treatment selected by most people transitioning from male to female. Mulvaney doesn’t appear to be taking hormones of the opposite sex, even though she can afford them.

Mulvaney is typically theatrical and upbeat in his clips. They rarely last more than a couple of minutes, while giving viewers a brief window into their everyday lives.

She features hairdressers, hairstylists, singing tutors, and the artists she paid to appear at her anniversary bash at New York City’s ritzy Rainbow Room earlier this month.

But he rarely interacts with real friends.

In one scene, he complains of ‘exhaustion’ and hoping to ‘reconnect with my loved ones’ as his relationships have taken a nosedive over the last year.

She laments a dying romantic life and says that all of her matches on the exclusive dating app Raya seem to have second thoughts and reject the match before they even go on a date.

I haven’t been kissed as a child yet. And I assumed that would have happened before day 365,’ Mulvaney lamented.

“Every day, I realize that that probably won’t happen.”

Elsewhere, she laments a fan who “completely violated” her trust by sharing her phone number online, apparently drawing nasty attacks from Mulvaney trolls, ranging from feminists to conservatives.

Right-wingers are alarmed by Mulvaney’s runaway success among young and impressionable TikTok users.

In a particularly vicious tirade, Matt Walsh, author and commentator, recently called her a sick hairdresser and “some kind of human farce.”

On the other hand, many women object to Mulvaney’s strident approach to femininity.

Others resent a biological man putting himself in their shoes and swallowing paid work promoting cosmetics and other feminine products.

The criticism clearly stings Mulvaney, whose typically cheerful appearances, a year into his trip, have given way to moments of despondency and despair.

“I’m not enjoying my womanhood as much as I used to,” she said in a recent post targeting her feminist critics.

And my pain… is very real.