Surprise
Criminy, instead of being a pedophile or child molester, I apparently wanted to be a transvestite! Great Scott! Transvestites are gay, queer, homosexual, drag queens; everyone knows that. I'm probably going to have to divorce my wife and go live with some sugar daddy gay geezer rump ranger, hang out in bathrooms at rest stops along the highway, or move to San Francisco so I could spend all of my time in public bathhouses... But wait, I do not feel any attraction toward men, but instead feel a pretty strong revulsion toward the idea of sex with another male. Actually, the thought makes me quite physically ill.
Maybe, on the other hand, I am really a girl trapped in a man's body and need to get my sex organs transmogrified, ala Christine Jorgensen. This thought might have had some merit if I did not like my current plumbing which, in spite of a lack of much use lately, it turns out that I really like my plumbing a whole lot. While I don't think I have anything special down there, I am quite proud of what I've got. Therefore, I was not liking the long-term prognosis I was uncovering.
Being web-aware, I thought it would help to spend some serious time searching for answers out on the information goat path. I was afraid to tell Precious what I had discovered out of a very real fear that she wouldn't or couldn't understand. I certainly did not understand it; how could she? I needed time to work this through; so much of it did not make sense or was just plain ludicrous. Fortunately for me, Precious was having problems with her spouse. Since I had been singularly ineffective in trying to fix the problems I was having with my spouse, I set my resolve to help her with her marital problems. Why not? Psychiatrists who lead hopelessly screwed up lives occasionally help others with their lives...
I was hoping that I might learn, by helping her achieve a better relationship with her spouse, the first-hand knowledge I could then apply in fixing my own marriage. Getting "better relationship" tapes, books and marital toys certainly hadn't worked for my wife and I, in spite of my best hopes and efforts. This information just might help my dearest friend Precious and her husband improve the quality of their relationship. It could happen... To a large measure, it appeared as though Precious was almost willing to do the same for me; she wasn't much interested in working on her own problems without someone coaching and focusing her actions, but was concerned instead about my stuck-in-the-dumps relationship with my wife.. So rather than work on our own respective relationships, we would spend our time trying to fix each others marriages. Not much stranger than anything else about our friendship. With her attention diverted from the question she asked earlier and her confidence behind me in trying to help her, I had a little free time to search the web, and I did so until I my eyes were sore. I came across a lot of stuff about cross dressers that was completely at odds with my earlier (and apparently erroneous) conclusions. There are a lot of very common myths and misconceptions about cross dressers. I was bought into those myths, as are most people. On another page I will list the links which taught me:
- Cross dresser and non-cross dresser populations have roughly the same proportion of straight vs. gay;
- Cross dressers are no more likely than the general population to be pedophiles or bisexual;
- Cross dressers are overwhelmingly not transsexuals -- so at least my privates are safe;
- Cross dressing is not considered (medically) an illness and it cannot be cured;
- Cross dressers are predominantly heterosexual and most are otherwise happily married; and
- Cross dressing is an unbelievably lonely, engaging in an extremely socially unacceptable and, therefore, guilt-laden hobby...
So, the incurable trait for cross dressing is apparently independent of and distinct from the traits for homosexuality, pedophilia and transsexualism. This was only slightly reassuring as much of what I had found while trolling the web for information was accessories for cross dressers like breast forms, electrolysis clinics and the kind of stuff designed to make an adult male look like an adult female, albeit a little strange. Whoa, Nellie! This was not what I had in mind. I was turned off by large breasts and found most of the slinky styles, lingerie, hose, high heels and maid's outfits being sold to cross dressers to be outlandish, repugnant and/or just plain silly. I didn't like these outfits on dancers in strip clubs; why would I want them on me? If I was a cross dresser, I certainly did not fit in with what was commonly defined. Furthermore, since a lot of what I found on the net describing cross dressers had strong overtones of coercion, such as "forced feminization," etc. (later I discovered this applied mainly to gay cross dressers, drag queens who derive sexual stimulation from dressing)), I was becoming decidedly uncomfortable and feeling pretty weird. Although I didn't seem to be dangerous to society, wasn't going to change sex, couldn't be cured, was not likely to file for divorce, and didn't fit the "standard" model for a cross dresser, it was not at all clear to me that my wife or Precious would accept any of this.
I did some more searching, flogging the many search engines on the net, and came across an article entitled, "The Birth of a Kitten" on an unusual site, describing a different kind of cross dresser, one who was also "transgenerational." Like Tootsie or Mrs. Doubtfire, I was most comfortable acting as though I were of the opposite gender, but unlike them I needed to be much younger instead of acting a little older or even the same age. Reading this article and learning (or hoping) that there may be others who derived the kind of deep emotional (as opposed to sexual) satisfaction from dressing and acting like a young girl, I felt was like water to the thirsty. Each sentence surfaced feelings I had long suppressed and forgotten, bringing out an image of myself that had been beaten and shamed by my parents into hiding in the darkest recesses of my soul. I was surely a "Kitten" as it was described in the article. I knew this to the center of my being; it immediately rang true. How on earth would I explain this to Precious, let alone my wife? I expected Precious to back away in revulsion instantly and forever. I fully expected my wife to file for divorce. If she found the clothes I liked on her disgusting, how would she ever come to grips with these same styles on me?
Last Update: 12/28/2003
Web Author: Taffy@Cheerful.Com
Copyright ©;1998 by Taffy Cheerful - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
