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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

The (wo)Man with No Name
6:38 a.m. -- 2008-07-12

Have you noticed, I'm getting a lot more up-to-date in my autobiographical entries?

The sad tale of life with Lucy, the close escape that was Lauren, and the frankly baffling case of Isabel the excessively libidinous virgin... all over and done with. We're rapidly approaching the present day, which sees me still happily married to Victoria.

This kind of makes me wonder what I'm going to write about in the weeks to come!

In writing these articles I hoped to make a small contribution towards setting the record straight. I haven't found the help offered by the transgender community to be all that helpful... so I've tried to explain where my opinions, motivations and solutions differ from the consensus of opinion that I have cheekily referred to as the Tranny Mafia.

In my experience, happiness wasn't found by persuading my partner to accept an additional person (my feminine persona) within the relationship. Having already already caused one relationship to spiral down in flames, I didn't want to risk that again. And even if the ultimate result wasn't necessarily going to be a breakup, I didn't need to freak her out with a long period of soul-searching about urges that I felt but didn't exactly understand. I'm not saying I didn't have those urges, but that I didn't need to stammer my way through halting explanations and apologies, all over again.

Been there, done that. Poor Lucy.

Am I a failed, or fake transvestite? Well, others have made a better job of it than me, certainly. I'm awed by people like 'Samantha' and 'Becky', who seem to have integrated their girlie side into their lives in a far more confident and successful way than I ever did. But perhaps they needed to? There are different levels of tranny-ness, perhaps varying at different times in our lives.

Me, I haven't even got a 'fem name'. Not anymore. Don't need one. And I've learned that Vicky is girl enough for both of us... usually.

Still, being a cross-dresser remains an important part of who I am. It must be: I've written over 27,000 words in three weeks. I wouldn't have put in nearly as much effort if it didn't mean a lot to me. To those of you who have read the whole thing: thanks. As you will have seen, I had a lot to get off my chest. And not just a fantastic Dentelle bra from Elle Macpherson's Intimates range. (Which I recommend whole-heartedly, by the way.)

We are approaching the end of my personal case history, but things are just getting interesting, in that the number of people reading this diary is growing strongly. People from the US, Canada, Finland, Malaysia, India, Germany, the United Arab Emirates, and the United Kingdom. So, hello Everyone! I hope that you're finding this entertaining... or even useful!

Feeling that my experiences and arguments are now laid out in more-or-less the way I want them, I have taken the weighty step of de-lurking within the transgender community itself. I haven't been active in that scene since about 1996, when I used to contribute to a magazine. Now, I have left a few tentative comments on other transgender-themed blogs, including a link to this diary in my signature. I've had my first few visitors clicking through those links, and no doubt there will be much tutting and shaking of heads throughout the trannyverse in the weeks to come.

I don't expect I'm going to be thought of very highly. A transvestite who doesn't advocate embracing all things feminine. A transvestite who is firmly back in The Closet. A transvestite who sympathises with wives and families, rather than with his transvestite buddies...

So, I find myself wondering if it's about to hit the fan. But certain things needed to be said, and I don't hate anybody. I just hate self-delusion.

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