Your partner and your 'hobby'
11:44 a.m. -- 2008-06-23
Back in about 1993, I had a brief row with my girlfriend. I can't remember what it was about. Anyway, she said she was off to spend the weekend with her parents. She threw a few things into a bag, and off she went to the railway station.
I must have thought something along the lines of, 'Good! I'll spend some time dressed.'
I wasn't particularly interested in getting totally dolled up, and perhaps that was for the best. When she returned unexpectedly, a short while later, I was partially dressed though. I remember that underneath my boy clothes, I was wearing tights. (If you're from the US: pantyhose.) But: underneath my jeans, so... no initial problem.
She's sorry. I'm sorry. We hug. We resolve to try harder in the future. A short while later I excuse myself, and head off to the bathroom, where I remove the girly stuff and conceal it in my washbag.
Now: why don't we both go away for that weekend at her parents' place. Good plan. I love the girl, and we're going to have a normal, nice weekend together. So I perform a few chores around the house in preparation for our departure. Meanwhile, she heads off upstairs and packs an overnight bag for me.
Uh-oh. She's been into my washbag then?
Funny thing is, she found the offending items, and simply assumed they'd been mixed up in our luggage from the last time we went away together. She had absolutely no idea that I had any girly leanings at all, and therfore the idea that I might have placed a pair of tights in my washbag didn't enter her head.
Too bad I made a full confession to her, therefore. A completely unnecessary one: I could have carried on dressing behind her back for years!
So instead of spending that weekend away, we spend the weekend talking, talking, talking...
I really should design and print a game called "tranny bingo". Each player gets a card with a number of phrases on it, and you cross off each phrase as you hear it:
"Does this mean you're gay?"
"Are you going to tell me, eventually, that you want a sex change?"
"How long has this been going on?"
...and so on. We ran through the full range. Just like every other transvestite who has ever told his partner.
The funny thing about THE CONVERSATION (and if you take nothing else away from today's entry, take this) ... the funny thing is, it's a completely asymmetric conversation. It's taking place at two completely different speeds. Some books will supposedly help both him and her to cope with crossdressing, but they fail to recognise the fundamental difference of viewpoint.
He's finally told her. He's probably wondered for months or years, just how to do this. And wow: doesn't it feel good! It's like taking a motorbike up to 100mph for the first time. It's scary, and you could lose everything, but what a rush! Your heart is hammering. What a rush! What a sense of freedom!
She's just received a bombshell and an insult all in one. How dumb has she been, to miss all the signs? Has everything he ever told her been a lie? Is she going to lose him? Is he going to want to take this a whole lot further, now? Causing her to become a laughing stock... putting the family in danger... causing the kids to get bullied... who knows?
For him, it opens the floodgates: all the things he hasn't been able to say, for so long. Whereas, with the best will in the world, even the kindest wife or girlfriend finds herself picking her way through a minefield. She's (at best) trying to understand, but all those questions she will inevitably ask are met with denials.
Am I not enough for you? Of course you are... this is something else.
Are you gay? Hell no!
The only questions she's likely to get a 'yes' on are the things she probably doesn't want to hear. "Have you been wearing my underwear?" for example. Icky!
But that's the way it goes. Of course, like any problem, some couples can surmount it, while others stumble.
Is it easier, now there are so many sources of information on the internet? I think not, because they almost overwhelmingly paint a positive, saccarine picture of the saintly transvestite's wife. She comes to terms with his crossdressing, and becomes his confidante, his personal shopper, his alibi and his playmate.
Those who fail to accommodate their husband's 'hobby' are looked upon regretfully. The unenlightened and the intolerant. But this is unsurprising when you consider just who the people are, who are writing these "help" resources, and the agenda that they have.
I don't mean to suggest that it is possible to stop your husband/boyfriend from being a crossdresser, ladies. Unfortunately, that seems to be a rare and unhappy path. What I /can/ say, however, is that my girlfriend and I were duped by the Tranny Mafia. We were led to believe that she ought to try to accommodate my needs, and that she was a bad person if she didn't.
But recall that at this stage of the disclosure process, the conversation is happening at two different speeds. She's trying to adjust to what she's just learned, while he is off in a world of blue skies and possibilities.
"Will you do my makeup for me?" Wow. She thought you liked the feel of feminine garments, for reasons that you were unable to explain. Now you want makeup too?
And... you're talking about dressing when I can see you? Not just when I'm away?
Do you see? She's giving ground... massive concessions, by implication, all within the first hours of your revelation.
Is that any sort of way to treat the person you love?
I only realise this because I learned from my mistakes. You will probably have to learn from the exact same ones. I only hope that sometime, a wife will find my diary instead of something put out by the Tranny Mafia, and stand up for her rights a little more.
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