I’m beginning to question myself. I’m the kind of person who likes labels. Not to straightjacket things, just to keep them organized.
When I decided to face these feelings in me head-on, I assumed that the proper label for me was crossdresser: a guy who wants to wear women’s clothes. It seemed like the easiest label to apply, and frankly I didn’t know at the time how far the rabbit hole went. So I jumped online, started connecting with the community of CDers out there, and began reading up.
Now, several weeks in, I’m not sure I’m a crossdresser. I mean, I am in the strictest sense — It’s not that I’ve decided that I don’t like female clothing. Quite the opposite. Since starting this exploration, I’ve gotten more and more into it. I have completely stopped wearing men’s underwear; I wear women’s trouser socks to work instead of men’s dress socks; I’ve begin replacing the t-shirts I wear beneath my suit and tie with their softer female counterparts. There’s no going back on these things, I think.
But I have been trying to “be a crossdresser” online and … I just don’t feel like I fit in. The crossdressing community as a whole seems to have a character about it. It’s very feminine, very girly even. They always seem to be into high fashion and posting pictures of themselves and taking on feminine mannerisms (the way “hon” is sprinkled around CD sites sometimes makes me feel like I’m in the South). There’s a definite sexual undertone to some of it — the thrill of going out en femme, of having a tryst with an accepting GG, of wearing the sexiest underthings.
The whole thing just doesn’t feel right for me. I’m wearing the clothes because they make me feel comfortable, not sexy. I’m underdressing because it feels natural and calming.I don’t want a wig — I want long hair. I don’t want fake nails — I want to grow my nails out. I have taken to shaving my body hair like it’s something I was born to do. On the one day a week I get to dress fully, I don’t don high fashion or change outfits or take pictures; I put on something that feels pleasing and then I do what I’d normally be doing — surf the Internet, do the dishes, write a blog post. And I’m happy. And I’m me.
I’m beginning to think there’s more to this than the thrill of wearing girl’s clothes. And I’m kind of scared.
To be fair, I could be reading too much into this. Crossdressing is a spectrum, and I can’t brand the whole with the actions of a noticeable few. Maybe I’m just one of those more mellow, shy, less vigorous crossdressers. Maybe it’s just that the ones like me aren’t the ones out there posting pics and squee-ing over fashion; they’re being mellow and shy and not making a big deal of it. Maybe.
I don’t know. I’m having a thoughtful day, and those always end up here in the quagmire of uncertainty. Maybe I just need to sleep on it.