revelation and realization
The months pass after any cataclysmic situation that a couple like us endured, if you’re lucky. And I count myself as lucky. Christine’s demands were met. Her limitations imposed on me concerning my life. If I wanted to stay married, this was the end of my dressing. Could I meet that demand, of all of them?
The worst possible scenario had happened. Why oh, why had I not explained about my dressing before now? Before marriage even? Too late to control the way the news was received. Life in ruins. How can anyone possibly recover what is so precious after such a stupid mistake?
Chapter 26 – Once discovered, never trusted
My previous chapter started with some of the best love-making Christine and I had ever had. After a ‘turnabout’ party, we had explored ways for both of us to be in control in bed. The chapter ended with my taking the chance to dress in public for the first time. I asked if that was betrayal. I was to be proved right that it was seen to be just that.
Chapter 25 – Being discovered
Musings from WannabeGinger
“Wishing for what might have been”….. So it is for me. The story of many of our lives, perhaps - my succession of “First times” has gone on, and on. Returning to my theme of “First times…”, there are a number of events that are difficult to place in a real time-line. Life-changing moments, many of them, the next one I recall was talking with a Lesbian about making love to a woman.
Keeping “in the closet” brings stresses and strains that most of us bear with some difficulty. They are more difficult to bear in your Thirties than your Twenties, as it must be for women in general. Lost youth, spreading waistline, peaking libido, and “wishing for what might have been”….. So it was for me.
I’m indebted to several readers that have helped me get over what was a bad day at the office and encouraged me to resume the autobiographical theme that I have been developing. I have put my concern about the Ratings and Hits away in a box and will no pay attention to them again. So, here we go again!
Sadly, dear Readers, my writings have lost their interest for many people and the number of hits received for my recent chapters have fallen and fallen. I must be boring everybody, which lowers the satisfaction I get from writing. So, reluctantly, I’m making this my Last Time of writing on the subject of First Times. Here are the firsts I would have written more about……..
Our marriage upon us, my (now) wife and I planned the honeymoon and our subsequent life together. As man and wife. As he and she. As a couple that had made love enough times to know eachother very well – and to know what gave eachother pleasure. My regrets at ridding myself of the trappings of a crossdresser were not to be short-lived. Or so I thought.
The years at Uni passed so quickly. Reflections of my life beforehand come flooding back, together with those from my years of academic study. I reached graduation with the greatest sense of gratitude for the ending of my life in the classroom/lecture theatre. Ready for a new life, I had some decisions to make about my special interest, my “Major” (in fashion, haircare and beauty)!
Ready to leave home for Uni, I had endured a “purge” – my first – something that comes to us all at times, deciding to leave my stash at home. I knew my clothes might be found hidden away, but equally felt that my co-students at Uni wouldn’t be ready for a fully-fledged crossdresser in our first semester.
Musings from WannabeGinger
My first (and only) steady girlfriend hit me in my mid-teens. 17, I was, 15, she was!! This was the Sixties….. But everything wasn’t THAT relaxed! (…not where I was living at least). So I wasn’t yet ready to go out en femme as they call it. Girlfriend time was weekend time, so weekdays were the only possibilities for dressing…..
Back to my story of the bittersweet experiences in my mid-teens. Dangerous times! The risk of discovery heightened by every choice I made. My first trip to go buying outer clothes and my first car drive home with my hair just set.
Chapter 15 (There was no chapter 13!)
Maybe Mum can give me advice, where nobody else can? I was lonely…… When I wrote that yesterday, together with ‘Drea’s painful words about the hurt from others, I started thinking about the time I was in this situation. We are talking 1967/1968. Of course, there was nobody to confide in. Life was different then……… (No hairdressing in this chapter, by the way!)
Chapter 14 (There is no chapter 13!.. that would be unlucky!)
A regular girlfriend and fewer opportunities to dress myself look like the future. My desire to cross dress won’t go away and the risks of discovery increase by the day. And there’s the question of going to Uni or not. Maybe that would be ideal and maybe I could meet others with the same feelings as me. Maybe Mum can give me advice, where nobody else can?
Kissing girls was brilliant and the burning desire for more intimate moments was strong. I had experienced little affection in my first 16 years really. So, I felt a little less lonely until the letter she wrote dumping me… Still, after necking with Molly in the dark, I was still mixed up. Wishing I was another girl.
Experiences live with us for ever. It’s only when you write tracing back your earlier days that you feel what you felt then.
I felt lonely.
Growing up as both a boy, inwardly at times and outwardly, (and as a girl, just inwardly,) presents dilemmas and conflicts – some happiness, some sadness. “I am fifteen, going on sixteen….” said a daughter in the von Trapp ‘Sound of Music’ family…..
A “first time” for being “discovered” is every boy/girl’s fear. The writings in this series are all genuine and true. This was my first time – on that brink. The cliff-hanger cut between two chapters is just “writer’s licence” to add some flair into what was, actually, terrifying!
Musings from WannabeGinger
For all of us, there are many “first time” for many things in our lives. Here are a few of my own.
The first time I realized I was in love, I was six years old. Her name was Susan Moore. Really, Susan May Moore. She had a middle name which stuck in my mind. I thought she was wonderful. I sat in class and looked at her endlessly. I wanted to hold her hand.