Should I tell the one I love?
By Frances Freeman
Mistake
In one last desperate act I took advantage of a weekend alone with Irene while the children were staying with relatives and persuaded her to let me dress up in front of her. She agreed, but it was a mistake, a very big mistake.
I felt so happy as I prepared myself, ensuring that I looked my best. Irene's jaw dropped as I entered the room in my favourite outfit, high heeled court shoes, stockinged legs, a short black velour mini-skirt, a wine coloured blouse, my face fully made up and my mousey blonde wig. she could not bear to look at me and after only fifteen minutes sitting on the sofa together she ran out of the room. I following and found her sobbing uncontrollably on the bed, she couldn't cope and was devastated, and it frightened me - this time I had surely gone too far.
I had seen Irene upset before but this was different, I had a real feeling that I could lose her. That scared me. I loved her dearly and couldn't even contemplate life without her. Stripping off and scrubbing my face I stuffed all my feminine belongings into a large refuse sack and put it out with the rubbbish.
I tried to comfort her, promising her that I would change, that I would block my compulsation out altogether, but it did not last long. How shallow my promise was. Once again I found myself purchasing the clothes, underwear, make-up, shoes and wig that I could not live without, and again I started to dress in secret.
Then something happen to change my life again, I had embarked on a quest to become a writer. I had always been quite artistic and I thought this would be a new way to express myself. After several rejected manuscripts I decided to follow some advice and write something I know about intimately. After one more rejection, my first short story was accepted! I was overjoyed and when I told Irene, to my surprise, she shared my joy. She said she was proud of me and pleased with my success.
Misconceptions
As subsquent scripts were accepted we began to openly discuss my strange obsession for the first time. In the evenings when we took our regular walk in the woods I was able to explain to Irene about the many different aspects of transvestism, why people did it and most importantly why I did it.
It was wonderful to be able to talk like this, to explore the myths and misconceptions and my wife listened with genuine interest and curiosity. It was like a huge burden being lifted from my shoulders and I felt ten years younger, the relief at finally being understood was incredible.
I still dress up on my own when I have the house to myself because I know that it's not Irene's cup of tea and I respect that, but now there is a big difference. I have not exactly got her blessing, but I do have her understanding and sympathy and that is very precious to me.
I no longer suffer from depression or pangs of guilt and can enjoy my cross dressing for the simple pleasure that it is. I now only feel happiness in the knowledge that I have a one-in-milion, long suffering, loving and understanding wife.
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