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� In this diary, I record my life as a transvestite. Perhaps it will help somebody else, who finds their lifestyle doesn't quite match that endorsed by the 'tranny mafia'. Well, I've been there... and survived. The debriefing starts here.

�loves: All kinds of stuff that society thinks I shouldn't.

�hates: Microsoft. Obviously.

�reads:
secret-motel
artgnome
enfinblue
stepfordtart
ten-oclock
boombasticat
lawliiet
annanotbob
fifidellabon
my-serenade

Lynn Jones
Becky
Samantha

My Y2K problem
8:27 a.m. -- 2008-07-02

I was a bit annoyed with everybody who made a fuss about the 'millennium' celebrations on December 31st 1999. It annoyed my know-it-all side to think that everybody was freaking out a year too early. (Because the first millennium started with 1AD, not 0AD.) Even the government and the BBC had been infected by this daftness.

Still, I can't deny that my life changed markedly soon after the new year began... although it began strangely.

I had a place of my own; a nice, private place where I could dress up if I wanted to - although sometimes I shared it. I was dating a girl called Isabel, but it was a strange business, best described as girlfriend ping-pong. She had an ex-boyfriend in another town, but she oscillated between the two of us. One Saturday, she went to see him to collect some personal things and to break it off with him... and she disappeared for 48 hours. (I thought he'd buried her under the patio.) But no... this was the start of the ping-ping game. Whenever she was around me, she wanted to be with me... and whenever she saw him, she changed her mind.

(Note: girlfriend ping-pong may sound reckless or unhealthy. I should explain that Isabel was determined to remain a virgin until her wedding night, so our m�nage � trois didn't involve full sex. Although she was a horny little minx. Catholic girls: go figure.)

She was a postgrad student, and she liked staying at my house because she only had a room at the university. She all but moved in; the first time she spent the night, she brought two bags of laundry and proceeded to use my washing machine. She kept all kinds of things at my house (as well as the other guy's, it seems). When she did one of her disappearing acts, I borrowed her stuff. An unusual and secret kind of retaliation, perhaps, but I enjoyed it. She had some nice clothes.

Yeah, I know it's weird. But I had 'fallen off the wagon' and my girlie side was a constant presence, lurking somewhere in my consciousness. So, sorry Isabel... but you have plenty to apologise for as well.

This strange situation lasted for a couple of months, and eventually it turned out that I was the loser. The ex-boyfriend became the boyfriend again. I wasn't all that bothered. Just as my enthusiasm for the game of girlfriend ping-pong was tapering off, my work had caused me to travel to Scotland, where I was introduced to a girl called Victoria. We had a lot in common; e-mail addresses were exchanged, and what began as a friendship soon came to feel as though it might become something more significant. When Isabel finally revealed her choice, I smiled and wished her every happiness... and I meant it. I got a crate, filled it with all the things Isabel had left in my house, and returned them to her.

And no... I didn't keep a pair of her knickers as a souvenir.

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