Coming Out in Texas

I lived in Austin, Texas for 26 years, but I only started to come out to my friends and family during 1996. During that time, I kept a diary of my thoughts and reactions, as well as the reactions of others. My original intention was to make daily entries, then it was weekly, but you know about the road to hell. (In case you don't...it's said to be paved with good intentions.) I hope you find it enjoyable and worthwhile.


With my family
New Year's Eve 1997
(That's my son, behind the streamers.)

Thursday, January 25, 1996
Dear Diary

I hate to start the year this way. I haven't been well since before Christmas. It started with the usual allergies. (They call it Cedar Fever, but it's actually a local fir tree that causes it.) I got a shot of cortisone, which cleared it up overnight. But then I came down with the flu on New Year's eve. That hung on for about a week and left me with a nagging cough, which was further aggravated when the allergies returned. (A spate of very warm weather caused those trees to pollinate again.)

All of which makes me wonder about some things. I'm struck by the irony that trees mating causes us so much trouble, which somehow led me to the image of a crossdressing tree. (One of them got so carried away last fall that he shed his nuts and turned color.) Isn't it strange that we're the only species that has a problem with gender. Why do some many of us feel it's so important to define? I had a friend whose daughter had a Ken doll and a Barbie doll and she caught her one day swapping their clothes. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Barbie gets all the fun stuff," the little girl said. "So I let him have some Barbie's things."

The other thing that occurred to me during my illness was how my desire to crossdress stayed with me even then. Of course, I didn't have the energy to dress completely--make-up, hair, etc.--but I still would have preferred a baby doll to my flannel pajamas.

Monday, February 25, 1996
Dear Diary,

This Thursday I leave town to go to Dallas and attend the Texas T Party. I've been looking forward to it for a number of reasons. I guess the main one is that I can stay "en femme" the entire time I'm there. It's somewhat like going on a binge. And by the time it's over I'm ready to give up the heels and hose for a while. (OK...a day or two :))

Another reason is that I make new friends and renew old acquaintances and I always learn something new. The gamut of those in attendance always amazes me. And the T Party organizers do such a good job of orienting the staff at the hotel that you never feel out of place. At least, that's how it was last year and I don't expect it to be different this time, although it's in Dallas rather than San Antonio. I will definitely make a report when I come back, and include photos if possible.

So...I'm preoccupied now with thoughts of what I need to bring, what I'll wear, and so on. I always seem to forget something. When I went to St. Louis last year I forgot to bring a belt. I had blouses and skirts, but no belt. Since I didn't know where to shop I decided to wear my guy clothes (sweatshirt and jeans), but I didn't want to remove the sculptured nails which had been done professionally. I decided to simply keep my hands in my pocket and left the hotel and drove to shopping mall where I found a little store with a nice assortment of belts. I chose one and went to the counter. The saleswoman had her back to me, so I placed it on the counter and when she heard the buckle hit she turned and I froze.

"Will that be all?" she asked.

"Er...ah...yes," I said, quickly pulling my hand back.

She rang it up and announced the price. I took a ten dollar bill out of my pocket and placed it on the counter with much trepidation. But she didn't even look. She just scooped it up and put my down my change and a bag with the belt in it and turned back to whatever she was doing before I arrived.

I breathed a sigh of relief and as I played back the incident in my mind, I realized that she never looked at my hands. It seems that unless you draw particular attention to them, hands are not something people notice. So my fear and trepidation were for naught. But I guess I'm always going to have some of that. And maybe if I'd been dressed, the nails wouldn't have worried me...being read would have been my concern.

Monday, February 19, 1996
Dear Diary

So much for my good intentions. I thought I'd write something here every day or so, but it's turning out to be about once a week.

Did I tell you I'm living with my first wife? No kidding. We were divorced 17 years ago and got back together when we had to arrange for our daughter's wedding. We had long talks and "shared" things and one day that "click" happened--you know, when the little mouse in your head seems to glide all by itself over to the little LOVE icon and click on it. Loading 17%....28%....43%....Document Done. And there we were.

One of the things we talked about was how I'd lost my mind when the need to dress became too intense. I thought there was no way I could survive, especially with young kids around. I didn't buy the idea that it's OK if they know. (This is not to say that someone else's kids couldn't handle it, but not mine.) So I split. And the only thing #1 now says she was upset about was that I didn't trust her enough to tell her. Well, you know what gang? It was ME I didn't trust. For years (and years and years) I carried around this notion that if I gave in to it, it would take over my life. (See entry for Thursday, January 25, 1996 for more details on THAT issue. Now that I know it won't, it has been easier to slip into a life that integrates it with the rest of me.

Wednesday, February 8, 1996
Dear Diary
Has it really been that long? It seems this nagging cough just won't go away and let me get some rest; however, this morning I *did* get up and put on something pretty in the hope that it might make me feel better. And it does...though I'm certainly not 100%. (On top of everything else, this lingering semi-illness is making me feel pretty old. I once was able to shrug these things off, but not any more. This girl may not be a spring chicken, but she's definitely tough.

You know, I am always amazed at the way this changes me. I can be tired, worn down, and nearly exhausted, but dressing up somehow always perks me up. I shared this with some "girl" friends and they said they had the same experience.

I've been thinking lately about being married. I did that twice and wonder at how I persisted in the notion that somehow it would cure my "illness." Of course, I now realize that viewing it as an illness is not a healthy thing. But for a long time, that was in the back of my mind--probably the result of that Catholic upbringing which, among other things, promotes the concept of "self-control." What a wonderful method for achieving guilt. I remember Father MacDonald explaining Free Will and temptation. It was all just a matter of being strong and resisting. It would have been great fun if sleeping were included among the cardinal sins. every morning every Catholic would awaken thinking "Oh my God, I've done it again!" and rush off to confession.

But I digress, dear Diary. Marriage was the topic, wasn't it? Well, that's one of those things a lot of us believe when we're younger. If I could just meet the right woman--she would heal me. I wouldn't need to do this. I thought I had met such a woman when I married a second time (picture of wife #2), but as it turned out she was the one with the problems; it seems I was simply bringing out her latent lesbian tendencies which she rebelled against and ultimately reacted to by having an affair with another married man.

Sunday, March 11, 1996
Dear Diary,

I just can't believe how much stuff I brought to dallas for the T Party. I guess it's because I hate not having a choice. I had 4 skirts, 3 blouses, 4 dresses, a suit (skirt and top), all kinds of underthings, enough hosiery to outfit everyone at the Hanes factory, five pairs of shoes, jewelry and other accessories, and two wigs. The trunk as well as two garment bags were loaded. But looking back, it was worth it. I received quite a few compliments on the outfits, including one from an attendee's wife who got on the elevator behind me one day. We were the only ones riding down and I was wearing my new red suit.

"Victoria's Secret," she said.

I nodded.

"My husband ordered the same thing, but it didn't fit right."

I smiled.

"It looks good on you," she said, as we stepped off."

Now. What more could you ask for?

Anyway, I got there Thursday afternoon and checked in, then went upstairs and got ready. I went downstairs about two hours later and bought a ticket for the dinner. Unfortunately, these things are no different than the corporate style conferences I've been to--a lot of rubber chicken and beef jerky. But that's not what one goes for. For me, meeting people is the second thing--and being able to dress all day and evening too.

At Thursday night's dinner I sat at a table with seven or eight others. There were people from LaMarque and Houston and one from New York who was definitely into the vampire look. She had a jet black wig styled straight and long except for the top which was in a kind of semi-spike. She was skinny as a rail too. Don'tcha just hate that?

After dinner one of the girls and I went to a club in downtown Dallas where we heard there was an amateur drag show going on. And we weren't disappointed. There were 12 contestants; most of them doing the usual lip synch in a long gown thing, but a couple had great costumes--one with feathers and spangles and a great body. The show stopped was a young man dressed Michael Jackson style doing an MJ number with all of the moves and some that would put Jackson himself to shame. About a third of the way through his number, a girl joined him onstage, mimicking his moves perfectly. They danced together and brought the crowd to their feet cheering. They were definitely not amateurs; I've seen lesser performers than these two in Vegas. They must have rehearsed for weeks. They were the 10th act, but well worth the wait; even worth the glass of wine I had spilled on me by a young man who insisted on sitting on the floor in front of my table.

The next day was the usual round of vendors, luncheon, and dinner, visiting with old friends and making new ones. I went to bed early Friday night and after getting up, getting dressed, and going to breakfast, met with Ericka and suggested we go shopping. She said sure and after lunch we took off for the mall.

Well...you can forget that idea. Saturday afternoon at the mall is NOT a good time. The freeways and mall parking lots were so jammed that we finally blew off that idea, but on the way back we stopped at the Ola Podreida, a little crafts mall just down the street from the hotel. One tour their convinced us that Dallas was definitely out of our price range. I was looking for something to bring home to my domestic partner (ex-wife) but wound up buying a "Transsexual Menace" T shirt instead.

Saturday evening's dinner included entertainment by the Therapy Sisters, a funny lesbian duo from Austin. After that, we went out again, this time to a lesbian bar next door to the club we went to on Friday. I was pretty tired, so after a couple drinks and some hiya's to others from the T Party who had come down there as well, we went home.

I came back to Austin feeling that it was time for a change at the T Party and hoping that if there was another one it might be more in keeping with the trend of the 90's toward more openness and less of the fluff. I'm not sure what it would take, but my personal feeling is that it just wasn't as much fun as last year or as the Fall harvest, which focused more on entertainment and topics that seemed a little more on the academic side. But that's just me.

Sunday, May 19, 1996
Dear Diary
I've embarked on a campaign. Many evenings at 'Bout Time some of us have remarked that it was too bad there weren't any places we could go to get coffee or something to eat. So today I composed a letter and short questionnaire which I'm sending to 10 local restaurants to try and identify T friendly eating places. I'll let you know what happens.

And, in a further update, I met with a couple of G-Girls last week who are cosmetologists interested in setting up a business to provide us with make-up help and whatever else we might be interested in with regard to our "look." They'd like to do colors and deportment lessons and seem very nice and understanding. I expect to get something from them to post very shortly.

As to my own little personal activities, I haven't had a lot of time to get out over the last couple of weeks, but I have some time available the next few days and I expect t'll take full advantage of it. I'll have the house to myself, so that means I don't have to worry about packing things away and cleaning up every time I want to dress up.

Now for the bummer. My internet provider (ccsi) put out an upgrade for the Winsock connection I use from home and things haven't worked right since. So I'm not getting any of bobbi's e-mail (lifeline to the world) and I can't do any FTP connections to update files from there. I have to do it from my office, which means constantly looking over my shoulder and blipping out of my HTML writer whenever someone comes in. I've sent the provider a detailed e-mail explaining that I not only can't get anything done, but that I've already taken off time from work to be at home during the hours they are available to help me troubleshoot the thing. All of this is by way of explaining why you may not have heard from me if you sent me an e-mail recently and why the home page may get "stuck."

I went out last night and realized that the hot weather is rapidly approaching, which means that the make-up gets yuckier and harder to control. I'm hoping that the new cosmetologist contacts will be able to offer some assistance. I'm also considering asking them to make me up early some morning so I can go to the DPS and get an alternate driver's license. That's a scary thought, but something I've wanted ever since one of the local clubs asked for a drag I.D. On the one hand I thought that was damned rude of them, but on the other hand I learned that if one has a second I.D. which shows a drag photo, then laws against deception cannot be invoked. I don't think the latter is likely, but what's the harm?

Also, while I was out last night I met Tricia. She moved here from Seattle last November and this was only her third time out, but she says she has been very impressed with the people here and their friendliness. She said that 'Bout Time was the friendliest club of its sort she had ever been in. She's 22 and extremely pretty. (If I sound envious, it's because I am.) She lives pretty far out of town with her Mom who is very supportive, though not completely understanding. But that's not bad. She seems like a really sweet person and a definite addition to the community

I also saw Bibi and learned that she missed winning the Miss Universal Thang title by one dollar, which made me feel guilty about not being there. My dollar..or two dollars, might have made the difference. And I saw some photos of her and she looked terrific. I just didn't know what to say. We know these things are silly, but then it's still disappointing when you put a lot of effort into something, as I know Bibi does, and miss it, especially by so little.

As for the photos, there was someone there who said he could send me GIF files of the photos, so as soon as I get them I will post them on this web site for everyone to see. Of course, this depends on my provider coming through.

And that's quite enough for now, dear diary, don't you think?

'Til next time...

Sunday, May 5, 1996
Dear Diary

I'm really embarrassed that more than a month has passed since I've made an entry. That's hardly enough to call this a diary. And there's been so much happening, too.

For one thing, I'm finding more and more places more than willing to have our business. Just last week I added two stores: Fashion Statement and Shoe Styles to the list. And for another, I'm meeting more people--some who find us from this home page and others from my photo being on Cindy's page, though I have to admit that 50% of the responses to that photo are pretty obnoxious. Perhaps I'm too sensitive to things like grammar and spelling (since I am a part-time English teacher), but I wonder sometimes how people who appear so illiterate can even work a computer.

On the other hand, it also makes me feel good to know that there are so many of "us" around the world. I've received messages from Italy, Australia, Canada, Austria, and so many other places that I realize we are not aberrations, but a natural phenomenon which occurs in all societies. In that respect we share the same status as those in the gay and lesbian community or any other class of people who have some quality that makes them unique. (I must add to that thought that I always make the point that we're speaking of qualities which do no harm anyone else. I feel that serial killers and child molesters are a unique minority too, but uniqueness alone does not imbue them with a right to live their lives as they please.)

So...what has been happening you may be wondering. Well, in addition to the new businesses, I've also made quite a few new friends. I met Ericka on-line and after a bumpy start, due to some e-mail confusion, we've become pretty good friends. She's in her twenties and already so far ahead of us "old girls" that I'm envious. She has already passed us in many ways and has a degree of maturity which I wish I had had when I was your age. And every time I see her (Ericka, that is...I'm not speaking of her boy side) she gets prettier. I just want to shout "Go girl!" but then I realize how flaming that sounds and the old man in me comes to the fore and I restrain myself.

Another person I met recently is Adrienne (formerly, Klarissa...and the name change is definitely for the best.) She has just emerged and though I haven't seen her (just "him" so far), I believe her when she tells me that her coming out has been pretty wonderful. Here's a clip from a recent e-mail she sent, talking about her visit to Minnie, my wig lady, and a performance she gave. (I have edited this to avoid references which might divulge personal information).

"I visited Minnie...and she showed me how to hide my masculine nose and correct the shape of my face a bit. It worked great! With a wig that matches my own hair color, nicely defined eyes...that dress (which looked hot but not trashy) and 3" black high-heeled pumps I thought I looked pretty good. I wasn't prepared for the response. I was really scared before I went out onto the stage. I hate the term "drag" because I think it suggests we're making fun of something. I was afraid that the people would see a guy "in drag" instead of "en femme". Anyway, I went ahead and stepped out on the stage...The reaction of the audience was incredible. Absolutely no laughing or catcalls. I was told later that many people who know me well had no idea who I was until I started talking (I gotta work on that). They just thought that I was some gorgeous woman working with the production. This was in full lighting, too. Even outside, I got no reactions other than casual interest from strangers and my friends had to do double and triple takes to be sure it was me. Did I do good? Did I pass just a little bit?"

 

Yes, it certainly sounds like you did, I wrote back. And she added this interesting comment: "The strange thing of all this is, moving among people dressed as Klanism I felt very "elevated", as if part of me had been released for the first time. It was almost as if my two "identities" had flip-flopped and the previously junior one had become senior. That's kind of scary. I truly love being a girl! Why, I wish you could tell me...One thing that I do know is that I will continue to crossdress."

At lunch with Ericka and Ricky this past Friday I shared that feeling with them. I explained that I too feel "elevated." For me, it's a sense of control, as if as Bobbi I have control over things. And I think that goes back to my childhood, where being a girl was an escape mechanism. Sure, I know it isn't real, just as I know, at all times, that I'm not a real girl. But what's the harm in acting out a fantasy that makes you feel so much better about yourself?

Well, you needn't answer that, dear readers, any more than you need to answer Adrienne/Klanism's "Why" question. But before I go I want to mention one more thing, which is that we have settled on a regular gathering time for our monthly lunch--the fourth Friday of every month. That makes May 31st to next time we gather. If you'd like to join us, send an e-mail to Bobbi and I'll tell you where we meet. It's all very casual; we come as our male selves and have a lot of fun sharing secrets and stories. Anyone else watching probably thinks we're talking about football.

'Til next time...

Monday, June 24, 1996
Dear Diary,

I received the following note from someone in Louisiana and wanted to share this you. It's really great to get a message like this; being able to help others keeps me going.

"I am a closet cross-dresser. I have been made up only twice in my life, but my "friends" weren't that good at "adapting" their make up to me, and I really didn't know what I was doing. I go through these phases of wanting to be feminine...if only for a night. I finally told Alta Vista to tell me about TVs on the net and your board was reached thru a link. I read your diary and was touched deeply. I wish I had a support group here in Louisiana than for nothing more to see myself - my feminine self - prepared by someone who knows about make up, etc. I wanted to offer my greatest admiration and support for your accomplishments and your web page. People like me really need people like you!
In the special kind of love that "special" people share...


Jack/Jackie"

Monday, June 3, 1996
Dear Diary

Guess what? A milestone. After a long time of waiting and having decided that my ex-wife (with whom I probably told you I now live) told me on this past Friday night that she was ready to see me as Bobbi. She said that if I was OK with it, I should come out of the back room and say goodbye in person before I left to go out on Saturday night.

And she seemed just fine about it. In fact, I think that after she told me, I was more nervous and scared than she was. We were out to dinner when she told me and from that point on what I would wear became a major item for my thoughts. When we came home we talked a bit more about it and I told her I wasn't sure what to wear and she finally suggested I show her some of my outfits, which I did. I showed her bout half a dozen of my dresses and she said she liked my black, long sleeve dress the best. It has silver sparkles in it and when I asked if I should wear white shoes with it she said "Yes...unless you have silver." Well, of course I do and I showed them to her. They've got a 4-inch heel, at which she raised her eyebrows, but I told her I get around in them just fine.

Saturday night I was extremely nervous about getting ready, which hasn't happened in a long time. but I noticed that as I put on my make-up and underwear and the transition took place I became more confident and by the time I had my wig on I wanted her to see me and I couldn't wait to get out and model the dress for her. (Why do you suppose that is? Is there something of the exhibitionist in us? I don't mean that in the sense that we want to "expose" ourselves in public, but I love being able to be seen and, hopefully, admired.)

When I finally I opened the door to the back room and walked down the hall to the living room where she was watching the television, I felt like a schoolgirl going to the prom and getting her Mom and Dad's approval. (Of course, my Mom would have had what she called a "kiniption fit" if she had seen me. (I've never seen that phrase in print and since this is the first time I've ever tried to write it down I don't know how it's spelled; in fact, I don't even know what it is, but I always think of it when I think of my mother being upset.) My dad, of course, would have beat the hell out of me. So there's something to be said about "coming out" after your parents have passed away.

Anyway, she smiled when she saw me and I said "Well?"

And she said "You look nice."

And I stood there awkwardly for a few moments, giving her a chance to say more, but she just smiled and said "Have a nice time."

I then mentioned that I didn't have the keys to her car. She had urged me earlier to take it rather than mine, which is quite distinctive, and I had agreed. When I said that she jumped up and said "They're in my purse," and walked past me, down the hall and got them out of her purse and handed them to me. "Have fun," she said.

I can't describe the love I felt for her right then. And how dumb I felt for having ever left her. Especially after getting into the situation I was in with wife #2, whose neurosis and total inability to relate to people made my life a living hell. But I can’t blame her. She was more out of touch with herself than I was.

The next morning, as we were having breakfast, I said to her "I need more feedback." And she said "Well, tell me about your legs."

"Legs?" I asked her.

"Yes...what were you wearing?"

"Just stockings."

She furrowed her brow. "Did you have pads in them or something?"

"Nope...just stockings."

She swatted me with her napkin. "Damn."

"What's the matter?" I asked her.

She shook her head. "You have nicer legs than I do...really nice legs."

I laughed. "Well...everybody has something," I said. "Does this mean you won't go out with me now?"

She shook her head again. "This means I have do something about these." And she pointed at her legs, which I happen to think are really nice. But I have to admit I enjoyed the compliment...a lot.

Now I'm wondering what's next. I guess we'll just have to wait and see.

Gotta go now. I'll keep you posted.

Monday, July 1, 1996
Dear Diary,

There are some coincidences which seem to go beyond mere chance. Lately, there have been quite a few for me. The most recent developments concern my relationship with my "ex" (with whom I'm living and whom I told about Bobbi). As I mentioned in earlier entries, about a month ago, after a long time of waiting, my ex told me she was ready to see me as Bobbi, so I came out of the back room and said goodbye in person before I left to go out on that Saturday night. Since then, I've gone out twice more and she has seen me before I left each time and been really great about it. In fact, this past Saturday we spent the afternoon shopping. This stemmed from the fact that I said I wanted to wear my white heels and when I showed her what I planned to wear with them she said that just wouldn't do. So we primarily looked for a white blouse or top.

What we wound up with was a wrap-around skirt (which we agreed to share), a matching top, and a second top. (She got a skirt for herself.) We also bought some jewelry--a gold, necklace, earrings, and bracelet for me and a pair of earrings for her. It was lots of fun, but the ironic thing about it is that, except for the jewelry, I wound up wearing an outfit I already had--a black silk tank top, black skirt with white polka-dots that buttoned down the front, and a white jacket. I had mentioned this outfit to her and she suggested I put it on and let her see it before I tried any of the new things. So when I came out, she said "Ooh...cute. That's perfect!" So that's what I wore.

We talked for a few minutes and she commented that my skirt was uneven and helped me get it straight and then helped get my seams straight. (I was wearing white stockings which have seams.) So things re moving along famously. And we're now talking about going out together. I invited her to come along this past Saturday, but she declined. On Sunday we talked a little more about it and we decided to do it first on a week night, when the bar/club isn't so crowded.

Now, the real coincidence is that I received an e-mail from someone this week who talked about how he had tried to tell his wife, but they never really discussed it and he "inferred" that she "understood" what he was talking about and didn't want to know. I told him what has been happening with me and my ex and also talked some about my past experiences and when I shared it with the ex, she said (and I agreed) that regardless of what could happen, he MUST tell her. So I wrote back and told him that.

Well, I guess that's enough for this time. I kept saying I'm going to update this diary more frequently, but it just seems to get shoved further down on my list of priorities.

Sunday, July 28, 1996
Dear Diary,

I received some information about the amendment to the Constitution of the State of Oregon, (Article 1, Section 3) and felt the need to add my own comments. Therefore, in no special order, here they are.

·         Of course, they wouldn't agree with MY view that it's not the family that's "essential for social health and the good order of society" but rather the behavior of society's individuals, be they member of a family or not, regardless of how you define the family unit. (This thinking reminds me of one of my avid Christian friends who insists that Ghandi is burning in hell because he never accepted Christ as his saviour.)

·         Can you have a family that doesn't share genetic code? I'm surprised they left in adopted children. I wonder how they feel about my daughter, who is adopted and bi-racial.

·         Here's my favorite: Government has an inherent duty to protect the family while recognizing its own limitation in that government cannot fulfill the role or perform the duties of the family. Huh?

·         A man and a woman who have conceived a child, not having entered into a marriage covenant, and who remain unmarried to one another, are nevertheless in their individual relationship to the child, family; and therefore, are responsible for the child, unless or until such responsibility is terminated by a court of proper jurisdiction." And then what?

·         And then they presume to tell us what's "natural to mankind and that male/female gender is determined at the moment of conception." (Why does that scare me?) and follow it with the affirmation that "These concepts are consistent and compatible with natural law, millennia of moral teaching, self-evident truth, conscience and Almighty God." Which scares me even more. In fact, I believe that the road to hell is paved with the souls of those who have the gall to claim to know what Almighty God's ideas, plans, thinking, etc. are.

·         Ahh...now comes the fun part: "no licenses, permits ,services or benefits shall be denied any person otherwise due under existing statute; nor shall the holding or exercise of any rights guaranteed by the Constitution of the State of Oregon or of the United States of America be deprived, nullified or diminished." Let's see what happens when some of the contradictions between their amendment and the constitutions are pointed out. (Let's hope the more reasonable minds prevail. Nay, let's pray that's the case.)

·         Well, I guess they have a sense of humor. Check out this phrase: " a person's private lawful sexual behavior is a non-job related factor." Aren't you glad they included that? (I guess there'll be no more having sex on the copier.)

·         And look, it's OK to mess with God and the family, but they at least have the good sense to leave the libraries alone: "the extent of its authority over public libraries shall be subject to present U.S. Constitutional precedent as well as local community standards established through the library review process for books, literature and materials.

Friday, September 27, 1996
Dear Diary,

I'm especially guilty now, having skipped an entire month and a half without an entry. And I won't make excuses. Perhaps, though, it's simply due to the fact that the more I can talk openly to others the less I feel the need for writing it down. Nonetheless, the old guilt rises when I consider that there are people who read what I put here and send me e-mail to let me know how good it has made them feel.

Well then, here's an event that is probably more significant to me than anyone else involved. The trigger for the event occurred last Wednesday (September 18th.) My ex was out of town and took the evening to reorganize my closet, go through things, try on some outfits, etc. etc. Fortunately, I locked the back door before I began. (Sometimes I don't do that; one of my therapists would say "You have zees secret desire to be discovered.") I was in the midst of things, in the back bathroom, which is just off the "sun room" when I heard someone trying to open the door. It was followed by knocking and a voice: "Dad?!"

Well, I knew right away it was my son (he's 24) and his wife (29) and I also knew there was no way I could let them in. But the knocking and shouting went on for a good 15 minutes (or was it five hours?). "Dad! I know you're in there!" he shouted, peeking through the tiny slit in the blinds covering the back door. "Are you OK, Dad?!"

Following that event I knew they had to be told. I had always feared he would walk in on me at home or, these days, that he'd show up at "'Bout Time" (which is where I hang out on Saturday nights) and recognize me. So when my ex and I were invited to their apartment for dinner this past Tuesday night (the 24th) I decided to tell them.

Now for the anti-climax. I told them the usual way I tell people--with a lot of prefacing and explaining and "You know I'm a little weird, right?" kinds of remarks, to which they responded in the usual way, suspecting that I like to eat newborn babies or that I'm gay or a transsexual or, in this instance, "You're a hermaphrodite!" which is what the daughter-in-law said (to which I reply "You're getting warm.") Finally, I blurt it out. "I'm a transvestite..." and the ex chimes in, "a crossdresser."

Then he says, disbelievingly "No..." And then there's a silence. And then he says "You're serious, aren't you." And I nod and we go on from there. And the upshot of it all is, (to use his terminology) he's cool with it. And the usual Q&A session follows and so now the last of the people who matter knows. And what a relief. Although I know there will be some uncomfortable moments. On hearing that the ex doesn't go out with me, *his* wife says. "Neat...where do you go? I'll go out with you!" And later she says "I guess I know what we'll be doing this halloween," and turns to my son and says. "I know...you can dress up two and all of us can go out."

And I sigh...still not entirely sure I've done the right thing. But very sure that I had no alternative. And feeling much much better about it.

Thursday, October 3, 1996

I know I've mentioned before about "coming out" to friends and family. What I have noticed especially with the friends is that while they're with it, they'd just as soon not have me bring it up. I have a habit of making joking references to it and while they might laugh when I do, I sense that it's reminding them of something they'd just as soon forget. "Oh yes..." they seem to be thinking, "...that."

I don't mind this response really. I'm just intrigued by it. And as I've thought about it I realized that there's no real reason why they should think about it at any time other than when I bring it up. For me, it's such an ingrained part of my "self" that I haven't stopped to realize that others can't even begin to fathom why someone would do it. So why should they care? Or be interested at all? They have their own interests, their own lives, and, probably, their own peculiar obsessions.

It's rare to find someone who understands this unusual predilection and even rarer to find someone who shares it. I guess that's why we like to hang out with others like ourselves.

Sunday, January 28, 1996

I really "came out" about 3 years ago. By that I mean that until then I had spent most of my life dressing in secret and telling myself I'd get over it. (Sound familiar? Read publications like the CD Forum Digest and TG Forum and you'll see the same story over and over. What I finally realized though was that I was afraid. The compulsion to dress was so strong that I felt that if I gave in to it, it would take over my life. I'd dress all the time, throw my life way, and want to have SRS. Indeed, I had had times when I spent an entire weekend dressing up, changing outfits, masturbating, changing outfits, masturbating, changing outfits, until I was exhausted. And the masturbation part. What was THAT all about? If I wasn't raised Catholic I probably be bothered by it at all. And the irony was that I had had a vasectomy and I was STILL bothered by it. I mean, the reason the Catholic church says it's a sin is because you're wasting all those sperm, but I didn't have any sperm. They were wasted long BEFORE I ever masturbated!)

Anyway, amid much trepidation and fear, I finally gave in. No, dear diary, I won't bore you with the details of that first time, not right now anyway, but I want to tell you what happened. It didn't take over my life. I didn't become a frantic crossdressing addict at all. In fact, once I had the freedom to indulge whenever and as much as I liked, I soon reached a pretty comfortable balance. Dressing completely (make-up, wig, nails, etc.) and going out about once a week was plenty.

Now...that's not to say that others don't have a different balance, but I really believe that like Shaw says, secrets have power, and once the secret was let go, the power diminished. What I had felt was the power of the "awful secret." And once I realized it wasn't very awful, it became my liberation.


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