[Retrospective: Nov 2004] I have decided to tell my wife that I am a cross-dresser.
Since the age of about 9 or 10, I have had a dream, a dream that I can escape from masculinity. Every now and again I need to let go of the man I am and commune with my feminine side. I’m not gay, I’m not a transsexual, and I may not even qualify as a transvestite because my need is quite small; small, but no less important. Society can be very constricting, sometimes for no apparent reason, and the truth is, although I’m happy with being a man, I find that I do not fit 100% with society’s sterotype of what a man should be.
This is so scary! I’ve made the decision, but how can I stick to my guns and not bottle out at the last minute? How can I put an end to 28 years of hiding? I feel sick. D is away on her annual girls’ weekend away and I’ve taken time off work, Friday to Monday to look after the kids. It’s Sunday and D is back tomorrow evening.
The likelihood is that by the time she gets back, I’ll have chickened out. Then an idea occurs to me! There is a step I might be brave enough to take now, which will force me to come clean tomorrow. The kids are asleep in bed now, so with a little wine for courage, I turn on the shower, get in and shave my legs!