(This doesn't apply to one who is TS and must take steps towards transition...)


So imagine the euphoria. Free at last to play dress-up at your own leisure. You can get home from your guy job and dress to your heart's content. If you don't get out & about, no worries, just plant yourself in front of a computer and proceed to cultivate all kinds of online relationships that can replace the 80% positive relationship you USED TO HAVE with your wife.

You can even put all of your stuff in your closet and drawers like any other woman would. What a treat, not having to hide from anyone. Then you decide to paint your room pink and buy a floral Laura Ashley comforter set...that's the ticket, a feminine retreat to match your mood.

But you then figure it's best to be safe and buy a lock for your bedroom door, lest the guys come by at some point to hang out. Hey, it's a small price to pay for your little slice of feminine heaven.

And you do this day in and day out, retreating more and more from what one would consider a normal social existence. Playing dress-up has taken the place of your previous social life to the point where you don't need that lock on your bedroom door any longer as your friends no longer come calling. No matter, you have your online friends who love you just the way you are.

Eventually, it gets a bit old. Will it take weeks, months, or maybe years? You find yourself getting home from a long day of work with no desire to get dolled up. You just long for jeans and that sloppy t-shirt that is sitting in a box in the garage. You dig it out and as you plop in front of the TV it hits you. YOU ARE UTTERLY ALONE. You think back to the 80% good you once had. Perish the thought, you are 100% good because you can play dress-up as often as you wish now. Thing is, it doesn't quite have the charm it used to have. The anticipation has evaporated into routine. You discovered that it gets old wearing dresses and skirts, hosiery and heels EVERY DAY despite the fact that is how you define your feminine presentation. And closely scraping your face at least once a day so you can wear makeup is starting to get really old.

Thoughts of the wonderful times you had with the woman you were once married to now invade your mind. You try to push those out by thinking of the 20% bad, like how she refused to let you dress around her. Like how she wouldn't wash your panties (heaven foribid!) and would even throw them out if a stray landed in your laundry basket. She loved you dearly but hated that CD'ing was a part of your marriage. She suffered in silence out of shame, afraid to disclose this to any of her friends or family. Certainly no one would understand.

And now the kids rarely call as well. Did she tell them the reason for the divorce? Years of marriage, children, perhaps grandchildren. So much for the happy holiday home you both envisioned where the family would converge in a loving gathering. Then again, you were miserable at those anyways because you couldn't wear a dress.

DIVORCE, such a devastating word. Such finality. And yes, this feels as final as can be because she has remarried. It didn't take long but she found her Marlboro man, her epitome of masculinity to replace what you came to represent to her. She would have continued to work through the issues but compromise had no place in your vocabulary. Only the word MORE. She gave you some space which seemed to be enough for years but you wanted more. More dress-up time was what you wanted and more is what you have...at the expense of less. LESS of the most meaningful relationship you ever knew.