I minded, but not very much, because I liked the rest of my life. Then Jessie and I got married and moved to Minnesota, and my space for cross-dressing dried up. In my twenties I found the perfect social circle, and the perfect set of dance parties and rock clubs, where I could dress up like a girl and my friends didn’t mind-or found it charming. I like to wear skirts and tights, or dresses, too, in private sometimes, in public fewer times, and in company when I can find an appropriate occasion, which I rarely can. I like to wear costume jewelry, and pastel nail polish, and I do that all the time. Given my tastes, at the moment, it might be better to say that I like dressing up as a girl.
I’m a man, but I like dressing up as a woman, in women’s clothes, wearing lipstick and bracelets and bright rings and women’s shoes. Some of those goals seem impossible, or incompatible, or prohibitively difficult not worth what I would have to sacrifice.
Maybe I just want to feel pretty, or to look pretty. I’m a man, but I like dressing up as a woman, in women’s clothes, wearing lipstick and bracelets and bright rings and women’s shoes.
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