Quelle Blogue!

Well, it was a hell of a week.

I was sleep deprived through most of it, and deprived of darling wife at the end of it.

I'm also a little burnt out on gender right now.

I went out twice in two days. That's plenty enough to trigger the sensation euphemistically called "gender euphoria" by trannies, "self-absorbtion" by others and "really, really scary" by our spouses.

You see, you cross-dress a little, you start wanting to cross-dress a lot. And that's got me kinda down.

I am convinced I am not on a transition track. I've met transsexuals and I've read their heart-rending stories. I don't have that level of discomfort with myself. I don't want to change myself that way. I am convinced that transition would be a personal disaster for me. I really want to remain who I am.

Unfortunately, who I am is a man who when he was a little boy, wanted to be a little girl.

I think a lot of crossdressers have a great reluctance to rule out transition authoritatively, even when they know they won't ever do it. Part of that is because there have been a lot of "late-transistioners," people who undergo reassignment surgery in their 40s and 50s. I think we will see less of that phenomenon as years pass, however. My generation has been able to be out in a way that was simply unthinkable to many of the previous generations. I've been publicly crossdressing for ten years now. I've had a chance to do a lot of experimentation and I've hardly repressed myself during that span.

I think for crossdressers of my generation, refusing to completely rule out transition stems from two things: first, doing so feels like denying a part of yourself. If you don't feel "like a woman" on the inside--at least not enough to live your life permanently as a woman--then what's left? The clothes, the vanity, the public spectacle of a man in drag?

The other reason is that like all human beings we desire resolution. And it seems like there are only two possible resolutions: to stop crossdressing, or to transition. Either one finally ends the ambiguity. Otherwise you're left trapped in the middle again. And the middle is a really painful place to be.

So I'm choosing to stay in the middle. I choose to moderate my crossdressing, because I want to have a professional life unencumbered by my transgenderism, and more importantly because I love my wife and want to give her some of the life she expected. This isn't necessarily such a big sacrifice. I'm not sure I like myself when I dress up too much.

You would think that crossdressing would relieve my transgendered feelings and allow me to cool off and handle things until the next time I crossdressed. But it doesn't work that way at all. Instead it can feed them and make my confusion even more acute.

Like this weekend. I got to dress up twice and spend some time in public. People were very nice to me. If they didn't treat me like a woman, they at least treated me with respect. The hostess at the restaurant Lucy and I ate at complimented us on our outfits. I felt pretty, even if I wasn't. All in all, it was very nice.

So why did I want more? Why, when I was out doing the laundry this afternoon, did I look around, into the early evening that is my favorite time in New York City, the late spring evening with its cooling warmth and gusty breezes that is my favorite season in New York City--why did I look around at all that and think that it would be vastly improved by smearing grease on my face, cramming my feet into shoes that would make me a cripple in a few hours, and exposing myself to public ridicule?

Some people say that they crossdress because women's clothing feels more comfortable to them. This is of course absurd. The underwear binds, the architecture needed to simulate cleavage and breast projection is as about as ridiculous as you would suspect, and wigs are uncomfortable to wear. Obviously, it's a psychological comfort we're talking about; a way of publicly showing the world "this is how I think of myself, in some way" and demanding to be treated that way, ludicrous as it sounds.

And of course it is ludicrous. I don't become a woman by wearing a skirt (or even high heels). I don't gain a deeper understanding of women's lives and women's souls. As much as I try to be sensitive to the many wonderful women in my life, to help them and to help myself know what they need and want, when I crossdress I remain a fellow in a frock.

And so that's all. That's all I am. And what the hell kind of a life is that?

Sometimes it really gets me down. Yes, sure, I like the pretty outfits and the cool shoes. I like to wear makeup (sometimes). I like all these things; I'm sad when I don't get to do them, and happy when I do. But how is this a life? Am I doomed to toddle from bar to bar in my fancy shoes, a drink glued to one hand?

But what else can I do? Join a book club? Why would I go to the trouble of wearing a skirt to go to a book club? Would anybody really treat me differently? Would it make me "more of a woman" or less of a man? Wouldn't I just be a kind of joke? Why would anyone go to all that trouble if they're not living that way?

And I don't want to live that way. But at times I think it would be nice. Because some part of me is always going to be attracted to the feminine, and not in a creepy way. Or maybe it is creepy. I dunno.

And I know I view all this through the warped mirror of my transness, that intersection of my vanity and my sexuality. I know that for me being pretty is fun, not necessary; if I sometimes feel restricted by the gender conformance required of me as a man, I have no real understanding of the vastly more oppressive and difficult demands society makes on women.

Still, when I see two women casually but prettily dressed, out just walking with each other and sharing that intimate-yet-casual friendship that is so hard for men to attain, my heart breaks because I'm forever on the other side of the world from that. And I don't know why it should break. But it does. And it makes me feel a bit of a joke.

This entry was posted on Sunday, May 29, 2005 at 10:22 PM. You can skip to the end and leave a response.