Words of warning and welcome:

This is very much my blog, so don't be surprised if this doesn't follow accepted patterns and norms. Obviously it started out as a blog about my cross-dressing but it has developed a great deal since then. It is a place where I can be anonymous and honest, and I appreciate that.

It will deal with many things and new readers would do well to check out the New Readers' Page above this and the tag down there on the right. Although there's nothing too bad in here there will be adult language, so be careful. If you think this needs a greater control, please let me know. Thank you!

Monday, 2 January 2012

On Friends Who Know...

The family needed to get out.  I had had the opportunity to visit some friends of mine for New Year's, which I took, and enjoyed a night of steady but quiet drinking whilst playing Catchphrase and the Game of Life, the version with credit cards rather than the more traditional pegs in cars motif.  The latter turned out to be rather true to life, with me heading off to gain an education, getting married and having children and then failing to get anywhere career wise, ultimately meaning that I lost the game as I failed to get a house or car to gain life points with.  Basically, I'm no good with money.
Catherine's favourite film ought to have
warned me about her reaction to
cross-dressing.  Actually, I think it did...

Anyway, that was the entry I'd planned before today.  Today we went as a family to meet some other friends of mine with a similar aged sprog to our daughter.  The two of them love playing together as their daughter is slightly older than ours and so they get on like a house on fire.  We stayed at their house for a bit and played about with their doll's house, mightily similar to the one that had me weeping, and then the two of them went upstairs to play Sylvanians.  Again, this isn't really the point.

A few years ago, before I met my wife, the female of this couple and I had a long chat.  Following advice in the previously mentioned online conversation about the motivations for my cross-dressing addiction I invited her round with my first ex-girlfriend to have a chat.  Why these two?  My ex had already been told by me when I was drunk - I used that as an excuse to tell her and not remember, fully remembering everything.  It also allowed for teh cover of the fact that I was drunk and most people believe that drink changes behaviour, so that was convenient.  She wasn't going out with me at the time, we'd split up a few months beforehand, this was at University, more on that another time.  The female in question, already married to her husband, was asked because we had chatted about gender roles previously and seemed open to the idea of cross-dressing as a valid expression.  Furthermore my ex was, and is, CofE flavoured and the female, let's call her Catherine, was Catholic flavoured.  I figured there was no better way of getting a cross-section of my own faith's responses to such behaviour without approaching a vicar.  Plus they were both females.  Catherine seemed to sympathise.

Not long after that, on the online forum that my University friends run for themselves Catherine set herself the challenge of getting me in a dress by the end of the year.  Now, she knew full-well that this was a challenge in which she would succeed and that most people would find this unlikely, thus cementing her percieved reputation as someone who could pull off impossible things.  I also acquiesed because I would get to wear a dress.  I should point out that rumours about my transvestism had surfaced before in this group of friends, not from my ex, and they had previously been encouraging (in my last year of University) but I had denied everything and never done it.

So it was that I went to a small party at Catherine's, everyone drank a lot, and I used the drink as cover to take the 'bet' and deliver.  Much merriment, assumption that I did it under duress, and a lovely few hours spent in a very posh frock that Catherine believed, and still does, I suited better than she did.  There are photos, I may be able to find them to publish here, I may not.  Catherine intimated that I may be able to borrow the frock again to dress or even try others, and even offered her house for such experiments in the future.  I was flattered and not a little interested.  However, later that year, in a few months in fact, I met my wife and we all know where that went.  Catherine had shown my wife the pictures, intimated that I could borrow some of her frocks if my wife was interested and even had a chat with my soon to be wife about cross-dressing.  However, it all came to naught.  Well, for me anyway.

This is, in fact, the very hat.  It is rather lovely.  I think I can
add 'hat' to my list of things to be obsessed about.
And on to today.  There came a point where Catherine's husband was pratting about with her hat, which is a very lovely hat, and 'made' me put it on.  Which, of course, I did.  It was a very lovely hat and I enjoyed wearing it, but politeness dictated that I protest and take it off relatively quickly.  Whereupon both Catherine and her husband start banging on about the party and the pictures.  I wanted to say then how glad I was about both the experience and their attitudes to it.  Part of me, the sick and perverted part, wanted to join in, discuss the tale again and recount the escapade anew.  The selfish, horrible part of me that I don't want people to see or know about but still comes out to play very publically wanted to force my wife into a conversation about cross-dressing that she would be unable to avoid or shirk.  Of course, I didn't.

The lasting impression, at this early stage, is that I reminded that Catherine and her husband, lets call him Tarquin, not only know about my cross-dressing but support it in a very strange way.  They are, in fact, more supportive than my wife.  Interestingly they too have decided that showing my tendencies to my children is a no-no until they reach a certain age.  I have no idea what age that would be but isn't it strange that everyone seems to think that any challenge to accepted gender norms before a certain ill-defined point is death?  Maybe that's just me.  Also, I rather liked the hat.

Oscar Wilde: a knowledge of
the classics, a keen wit and
money.  Prerequisites for
sexual kinks?
One final point to muse on, because I've gone on a bit and need to be ready for the morning when I go back to work and face the music of my completely farcical organisation of the time off, is this: if my own addiction and prediliction came before any outside stimulus then... Basically, if my own bent toward cross-dressing and femininity and bondage came about before I saw these things as sexual acts or even as things that other people did then where did they come from?  I know that my father had a few sexual kinks, parents getting divorced in my case meant that my mother told me more abour them than I really wanted to know but I was about seventeen at this point, and some of them I appear to share.  Does that mean that there is some element of genetic encoding at play?  After all, unlike modern homosexuality there is little exposure to such behaviour in small people.  Put another way, we shield our young from transvestism and cross-dressing much more than we shield them from homosexuality.  Back before that was the case, when homosexuality was a crime, there were still homosexuals who were surprised by it.  Though I don't know much about the societies in which it occurred so it may well have been something that was pretty limited to the middle and educated classes for all I know, which in turn would base it on a knowledge of the classics.  I digress, if homosexuality is part genetic then it may follow that my own predilictions surrounding female clothes are part genetic.  And if that is the case then my son is pretty much doomed to share it - not sharing my own addiction with him could lead to him feeling isolated.

If it's not genetic.. then what the chuff is going on with me?

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All comments are welcome, I have a thicker skin virtually than I do in real life!