Open the Door Richard - My Dead Head Friend P

First a comment on a comment to yesterday's post.  An anonymous reader wrote:

Don't paint all conservatives with the same brush. I'm a card carrying NRA member and a right wing conservative politically and economically but still a CD. I do not feel I'm out of the mainstream and should not be feared by the 'left wing' of the country (but I am).

Welcome to the blog, Anon.  I have friends all across the political spectrum and really there are two types of friends: the ones I talk politics with (like P) and the ones I don't (like J).  One of my son's friend's father works for a right-wing think tank.  I talk to him occasionally, but I avoid it because he likes to talk politics when he thinks he has a point.  I do not, and I don't return the favour.  I have a friend at my previous job who had an "I love Sarah" sticker on her wall and supported Bush, McCain, et al.  I've asked questions about her positions but a couple of days after one chat escalated into an argument I said "I'd like to talk to you about something."  She said "what?" and I said "anything but politics."  And we talk about anything but politics.

And I don't think we fear you, either for the gun carrying, politics, or the crossdressing.  And if you're ever in my neighborhood, let me know.

On to the topic du jour....

I met P for his dinner, my coffee, at the Chili's near my hotel while my wife met with an old friend of hers and our son entertained himself in our room (give him WiFi and he's happy).

We spoke about my marriage, my therapy, his marriage, his divorce, his life after divorce, and related topics.  Again, "ask the man who owns one."  At a lull in our almost-three-hour-squatting-at-Chilis session I said "but wait!  There's more!"

I then reminded him of the rally and my "costume" and said "that's not the first time I did that.  Nor the last."  And then he blew my mind.

He said, "a long time ago, you lent me a [vinyl record] album and when I took out the record, out fell a Polaroid of you wearing a dress and a long wig and my first thought when I saw you dressed for the rally was 'well, he's still doing it.'"

He never mentioned it before, certainly not at the time, which is definitely a good thing.  Being caught would probably have caused a purge (I've purged, but don't recall if it was before or after this) and pushed me further into the closet.  It would have changed our relationship, certainly for the worse.

He never mentioned it before.  Even at the rally.

Growing up in a two-bedroom apartment with a brother and sister and parents, it was hard to find a time or place to call my own.  I forget where I got the wig, the dress was probably my sister's, and I'd buy Polaroid film and put it in my father's camera and take pictures in the mirror (no timer or tripod).  No way I'd take a picture and let someone else develop it.  I did take some black-and-white, which I could develop and print myself.  But I had very limited hiding places.

One was record albums: pictures were flat, and my parents would never go in there.  My sister would ask if she wanted a record.  My (older) brother would just grab but I had records he'd never want to listen to and that was the hiding place.

And for all I know, the picture is still there.  I thought I moved them all to a new safe place when I moved out, but I guess I missed (at least) one.

We spoke a bit about the dressing.  He's a pure civilian, with absolutely zero interest in dressing.  He said in a subsequent phone conversation "when I'm with a woman, I'd rather get laid than wear her clothes" and I said "it's possible to do both."  I did reassure him I'm straight ~ like most civilians, even liberal ones (he has a lefty blog now), he is somewhat confused about gender and sexual identity issues.

But not horribly so, and he's open to further discussion.  And he's a good friend and a good resource in my troubled time.

A little follow-up.  Before saving this, I went through a box of records.  This is roughly my first 30 albums.  I made a couple of discoveries:
* The Who Sell Out (#12) and Bookends (#25) are both missing, probably misfiled.
* In OR-FM Double Golden, (#27) both discs were placed outside their sleeves.
* Magical Mystery Tour (#23) is missing its sleeve.
* The Daughters of Albion (#13 and nobody, not even Paula, knows them) has some drawings that made me think I hit the jackpot ~ but no.
* All sorts of filler came with the Beatles' White Album. (#15)
* Got Live If You Want It (#28) had two Polaroids in it, one mirror shot barely visible, one arms-length of yours truly wearing a long dark wig, a hat, a black-and-red striped shirt and what appears to be a jumper ~ the shot is a bust shot so I can't be sure.  No makeup.  I would not have had a prom date. :)

More on P on Monday.  This has gotten a bit lengthy, even for me.

---

Don't Ask, Can't Tell

(this is it: my 600th post!)

"So, what did you do last weekend?"  "Saturday, we had some friends over for a barbeque.   And Sunday, I went to a Transgender Day of Remembrance" event at a little church in Fairfax."  "Really?  Why?"  "Well, I'm transgendered, and it's sad and scary how many other transgendered women have been assaulted or killed or lost their livelihoods just because of how they dress and who they are."

Yeah, right.  Like that water cooler conversation is ever going to happen.

Often I chat about a variety of things with friends or co-workers.  I'm sure you do as well.  And I'm sure we have the same problem.

We have to filter.

The other day, we were talking about airport security and problems we had going through.  I could top them all, but I couldn't say "I went through security dressed as a girl."  I couldn't even say "I have a better story than any of you but, alas, I can't tell it."

There are lots of thing I can't, or at least shouldn't, talk about.  Even simple things like "I always read (whatever) blog."  "Well, my day isn't complete if I don't catch up on Femulate."  Not gonna happen.

Sometimes, I talk fashion, or women's clothing, when the topic comes up.  When someone (invariably male) says "you know an awful lot about that" I say "it's a hobby."  I think they assume learning about women is my hobby.  Well, it is.  If this ever goes further, I'll write about it here.  I suspect ANYTHING I say would be considered a joke, and laughed off.

But I can't really talk about the clothing swaps.  We were talking about car problems and I told about my tire blowing up and me calling Geico and the manufacturer refusing to honour the warranty.  I didn't mention that I didn't change the tire myself because I was wearing a nice dress and I didn't want to mess it up.  That really makes the story, I think, but... can't tell.

I was talking to K, who works in my office, a few days ago and after we were done talking shop, I commented on her shoes.  Snakeskin, very high heel, very pointy toe.  She said they were very comfortable.  I said they wouldn't be for me; my feet are VERY wide.  She said her toes stopped here and she touched a point before the skinny part started.  She said she used to be a tomboy and she had to change just three or four years ago, when she took this job.  I told her that I thought that was scary, because it means I could become a girly girl in just a few years, if I had a mind to.  I know, I said "scary," but I meant "exciting."  Can't tell.  Must filter.

She said that the hardest thing of changing her wardrobe was having to wear heels to work.  I said I wore heels to work once.  She assumed I meant like boots with heels and started describing what she thought and I interrupted and said "no, shoes like yours."  She gave me an odd look and I said "it was Halloween."  She asked no questions, and changed the discussion to how she takes Halloween off, because traffic is always horrible that day.

A few days ago, I noticed she was wearing a Jockey camisole, under her shirt.  I recognised the lace pattern; I have a few just like it.  I really wanted to say something, but... well, even as just a guy commenting on clothes commenting on what's really underclothes is sort of off-limits.  And to say "isn't that a Jockey cami?" is definitely in the can't tell category.

Stana posted my picture on Femulate recently.  I felt like a celebrity, except it's more like I committed a horrible crime.  I had something to brag about, and couldn't.

I mentioned not long ago that I wanted to get something from Freecycle, but didn't request it because my wife and I knew the offerer.  It would have been wonderful to say "if you have any more castoffs in my size, let me know!  And I may have some things you'd like."

I typed my real surname into Facebook.  There were a bunch of people I'm somehow related to but have never met.  I was mulling how stupid it would be to join the group and say "my last name used to be *****" when I saw my wife's picture with a "I married a *****" next to it.  Heavy sigh.

I'm sure you all have similar stories: things that were funnier, stranger, more surreal because you were dressed when it happened.  And now you can't tell anyone, outside of our little circle.

---

Hiding in Plain Sight

My youngest son came down to discuss his new computer. We were looking at different websites, and then I suggested Amazon so maybe we could see some reviews.

Then I changed my mind ~ I wasn't sure what sort of books would show up at the top of the Amazon page. I've bought some trans-related books and a "recommended" might be embarrassing.

One bullet dodged.

Then he wanted to see how youtube looked on my new 2048 x 1152 monitor. I was about to open youtube and then reconsidered. That would DEFINITELY show videos that I didn't want him to see! Pretty much all I enjoy there are crossdress or makeup related. I finally decided to google my older son's youtube user name and we went directly to his page.

He noticed I have lots of programs running and lots of firefox tabs open. He's pretty sharp ~ he pointed at one and said "is that Google Analytics"? Yes it was. Google Analytics gives web page information such as how many people visited. I said "yes, it's for the blog I created when I flew across country dressed as a girl".

No, I didn't. I asked a question about the computer parts he wanted and we got back on subject.

I don't like hiding. I don't like closing windows on the computer when I hear someone come down the stairs. Closets are for clothing. And I build a closet around me wherever I go.

Chris Elucidates

Yesterday, if anyone read to the end of the tome I wrote, I said that Chris had another comment that I didn't understand. Today, she clarified:

About family etc., it's is just that most of the CD blogs are about what I wore, where I went, what I did, but very little about, say, how my wife felt when I stood in our bedroom wrestling into my foundation garments. Or about how the Brother-in-law reacted to her high heels and stockings. I guess I am seeking to hear in these important aspects of life the same success stories we hear under the rubric "I went to the Speedy Mart en femme and didn't get mugged."

With the exception of my wife, my family universally does not know about Meg. My wife helped me shop a bit, and get dressed a long time ago (just playing around, you understand) but once I was dressed, she'd want nothing to do with me. She bought me a few girl things for birthdays for a few years, but then that turned into her buying whatever was on sale, whether she thought I'd like it or not, whether it would fit or not ~ sort of an obligation. That, thankfully, stopped.

To me, a secret is something that only you know. I have secrets ~ there are things that I've never told anyone, and they'll probably stay that way. Then there's what I call "close", things that most people don't know. If I tell someone a "close" thing, then I understand that they can do what they want with it. Friends who know about Meg know that she's not a secret. There's no "don't tell anyone, but Meg is really..." there. And I make it clear that they know that.

But so far no-one's spread the word, which is cool.

Last spring, I announced in front of a group of 12 that I crossdress. One male, my spouse, one female friend, and nine women I'd never met before. My former manager at my current company knows. My manager at my former company knows, as does a coworker there. Four women who are part of a clothing swap meetup know. All of these people (except the group of 12) have seen me dressed. I also have an e-mail friend I've known for 17 years who knows, and an e-mail friend I've known for 16 years who I recently told. I've met each once, but not as Meg. A few women have done my makeup, and we've gone shopping together, but they kind of only know Meg. (If anyone wants to know more about why or how these people know, just ask.)

So Meg is "close", but certainly not a secret.

I think if I told my boys, they'd either not care or they already know. I mean, half of my closet is dresses! But I'm not ready to sit down and say "kids, I have something to tell you."

Maybe I'll fly home dressed too, and they'll find out that way. :)