Freddy would love to have a lock of your wig hair, you know, as a cherished memento. I desire souvenirs of people I love and respect. Can you bear to part with such a precious fragment of such a highly fetishistic object? Keepsakes will make me think of you, even when I am far, FAR away from here. You have inspired me beyond words. I can gaze on your little “gift” and smile forever. Only you and I will know – it’s a small sacrifice to befriend an invisible tranny like me. Unless a miracle happens, I will never actually meet another crossdresser. However...
Take this as a most sincere request, and an acknowledgement of what you mean to me. Adrift in my own closeted universe, I need something REAL to make me feel equally real. My own auburn faux “locks” I would freely disperse, in the spirit of friendship, if the situation arose. Appease me, dear friends, even with a heartfelt expression of words. It would mean a lot. Repair my broken heart. Make me whole again. Give me something to remember you by. Another time, another place, I wouldn’t dare to make this request, but I lose interest from time to time...
Cater to my impossible whims, borne aloft on the wings of caprice, refreshed by dreams. Relieve my anxiety, and let me know you’re out there, at least in spirit. All this will pass. Over and over I reach out, but few dare to grasp my hand, or offer a little solace. Freddy knows it’s impossible, but still I must ask this hypothetical question: “Can I? Please?” I know, wig hair doesn’t grow back, so I may be asking TOO much this time – maybe just a few strands?
Thank you for thinking of me, and thanks for reading...
PS - My girlfriend once gave me a lock of her hair, wrapped as a precious gift in a cute little box, lying on an antique piece of linen her grandmother had given her and tied with a beautiful pink ribbon. I cried buckets over that. Your imaginary “lock” may re-open the floodgates, and I can float downstream to the proverbial Promised Land...