I often wonder if we don’t have a pre-wired program built into us when we arrive here on earth, which is somehow activated by our life experiences - in this case a predisposition to be abnormally attracted to things feminine. I had no great emotional or violent experiences that brought this on, only little things that seemed to trigger disproportionate responses. Maybe when God made me, He (Ed: are you sure "he" is not a "she"?) experimented and took the model XP1674 male hardware and enclosed it in a package with the XP1674
female software. This would certainly produce different results than had hit the world up to that point. Perhaps even a more successful working model than had been in the past. This is the way God uses His principle of evolution.

My first experience was when I was less than 4. My mother took me to a community parade in our small city. One of the marching units was a Scottish band, with kilted pipers and drummers. When they went by, I broke out in tears and my mother could not understand what made me upset. The presence of men in skirts was more than I could handle emotionally, and it triggered something down inside that could not have been learned, but must have been congenital (maybe even hereditary). The trigger must have been very deep in order to have caused such an emotional response. Did it touch something that was dormant there within my psyche, waiting for the proper stimuli to blossom? Was I born and predisposed to be stimulated as I am by this kind of an occurrence? Did it activate my hardwired "executive" program and cause it to come into play?  Could I possible have been any different?

My next exposure was at about 5 years old, when we were visiting family friends of long standing. I seem to have had a bladder problem of some sort, because I wet my pants. My mother did not want to return home, so they solved the problem by finding a pair of panties belonging to Rosalind, the friend's daughter, several years older. They were not just white cotton, but colored silk-like material, with small ruffles. This amused them to see me in frilly panties, so they retrieved the matching dress, which Rosalind had outgrown but which was only a little large for me, and they dressed me in it. They may even have tied ribbons in my
hair, but I can’t remember for sure. Thus I became a girl that afternoon visit.

The next event was at about age seven, when Rosalind sent over a box of her outgrown clothes for my slightly younger sister. My friend Stephen was at my house to play when we discovered the box. I really don’t know who had the idea, but soon we were both deeply involved in trying on all the dresses. No real commitment that I remember, but I do know that my sister was outraged. She still remembers it today, angrily, 58 years later.

The event that really captured me was when I was about 11. My sister had a box of dressup clothes for years which she would use with a friend. In this box, along with the other stuff was a long, floorlength skirt that had belonged to my grandmother and which dated from about 1910, and a long lacy petticoat, to be worn under it. My sister had worn this many times with no particular interest from me. One late summer evening, when it had
gotten dark outside, I suddenly got the hairbrained idea that it would be fun to try this on. I went out to the small backyard playhouse and took off my jeans, slipping on the skirt and the petticoat. There was a sudden  and strong reaction that occurred within me, not like any that I had ever had before. It was like a switch turned on inside of me. I was suddenly
exhilarated and filled with life and excitement. Indeed, I proceeded to run all over our large darkened yard, twirling and twisting to make them brush against my highly sensitive bare legs. It was like a metamorphosis from this normal, average pre-teen boy into a new butterfly-like being, one certainly never experienced before. I wondered how this had escaped me all my life so far. This had been voluntary on my part, and it seems to be
the moment I became hooked. After that, I used to daydream about wearing dresses, particularly fluffy and ruffled ones, and having long hair. I even sketched floorplans of my fantasy cache of girls’ dresses and other clothes I secretly yearned for. I did occasionally repeat this event, by sneaking out to try them on again and again.

Nothing major happened until I was 13 and we moved. I had to walk through my sisters' bedroom to reach mine, over the garage. My older sister was very well built and had some terribly interesting clothes. I would pass through the closet on the way to my room. Many times when it was convenient, I would dress up in her frilliest things. At least three times I 
must have made a sound when I should have been asleep, because I could hear my father slowly walking upstairs to check out the sound. All I could do was to quickly turn out the lights and to jump into bed, sometimes with a dress on, cover up and pretend to be asleep with deep breathing. It always worked, and I was never caught. My sister got married and moved away, but sometimes my younger sister would have something worth making the effort for. I particularly liked one lacy peasant-type blouse that she got, which I could wear off-the-shoulders and get turned on by. I must have put that one on about 20 times or more, always with an excitement. 

At junior high, and later at high school, I was constantly being excited by some of the more daring girls. Very soon it became almost a fetish-like thing with me, with three major stimuli:

1. The off-the-shoulder blouses and dresses, which the girls were not supposed to wear on campus, but with which some defied the rules and wore anyway to provoke the boys. When I spotted one, I would follow her around at a distance, almost being late for class, but then finding her again after class and before the next one.

2. The full petticoats which were occasionally worn, particularly if they were worn so that they showed a layer of lace below the hem. These were allowed, but had not yet come to their height of popularity. They were absolutely so different from anything a boy would
wear that they really unglued me, totally destroying my concentration.

3. The occasional asymmetrical hairdo, where one side was combed back or over to the other side and fastened there with a flowered or jeweled clip, where it might be poufed out or come down over one eye. Basic variations on the Veronica Lake and Lauren Bacal look. These were rare, but when I spotted one, I literally almost lost my load right there. Any of the above would cause instant arousal and made it most difficult to walk around and not be noticed.

I liked the girls and dated, but I always chose the sensible ones, which were also the ones in my classes, since I was college bound. But I had endless, arousing fantasies about the bolder exhibitionists. Low peasant blouses, lacy petticoats and hair cascading sexily down over one eye drove me to absolute distraction, making me miserable, but never failing
to stimulate me, whether in person, in a magazine or just in my imagination. I had several unresolved crushes, but continued to date regularly my senior year.

Four years of college, with a heavy schedule of classes, left me little time for partying or getting into trouble. I attended a university on full ROTC scholarship and had to spend every summer on training cruises. Several of the other midshipmen took it upon themselves to try to run me out of the unit because they thought I might be gay. I was not, of course, but merely sensitive and not masculine in my attitudes. I believed in cooperation, not competition, and in being kind to others. I also liked opera and good music, not the rock and roll of the time. They did not succeed, and I became a naval officer. While at college, dating was difficult because of the then ratio of 4 guys to one girl, so I did not date much until my junior and senior years, again with very sensible girls, the kind my mother would have approved of. However one girl I saw several times a week in chorus did almost drive me over the edge. Carla used all of my stimuli, usually only one at a time, which I could handle with great difficulty. One day, though, she walked right by me on the sidewalk and smiled at me, her hair all brushed to one side and curled, a peasant blouse worn off her shoulders and quite low, and then a full skirt, held out by several petticoats extending their lacy presence down below the hem of her skirt and carefully placed there to be be visible. As she walked they rustled and swayed from side to side. She had a look of real self-confidence on her face, one of enormous latent power which
she knew she commanded with just the flip of a skirt. That was the single-most exhilarating experience (where I was not actively involved) that I ever experienced in my life, and probably set the template for the girl I would like to be. But I had the good sense (or more likely the lack of fortitude) to leave her at a distance and to continue to date the open
and sensible girls. Sometimes I have wondered in life why I always chose the "proper" way and why I never had the bravery to try my luck with a sexy tart.

After college, I did not marry because I had to serve three years aboard a ship. The only real date I had in the three years almost turned into a disaster, when I called up an old flame from high school days. She was getting married a month later but wanted to see me anyway. (But that is another story). After that I did not date for two years and then married
the next girl I dated, a good, pretty, educated and sensible girl. 

Two months after our wedding, she was to have her birthday, and she suggested what she wanted was a nice full petticoat (now popular everywhere) for her present. I now went shopping for the first time for such an object. I found several to choose from, some very stiff and netty, but one very soft, not overly full, very lacy, and very well made. I knew that
this was what she would like best, and she did. I was finishing an MA degree while she worked that year. I was home alone on two days a week, when I studied for my orals. It was then that I revived an old pastime, after many years of dormancy. The petticoat was like a time bomb in the apartment, just waiting its chance to go off. I found it one day, tried
it on, and was once again stimulated and recaptured. Next, I added a full  skirt and then one of her two sheer body-shirt blouses, of soft nylon, long sleeves and, best of all, elastic neckline. I now had two of the elements of my critical mass in place. Radioactivity could begin. We had three children in four years after I started work. I used to brush her hair at her request, and tried out a variety of styles, eventually doing the asymmetrical one, and explaining to her what it did to me. She started wearing it this way, which produced our third child only 14 months after the second one. She never would wear her blouse off-the- shoulder but 2 out of 3 was capable of causing nuclear fission.

I never lost my love of pettis, and when she would no longer wear them, I eventually found some for myself. At middle age, I discovered the joys of real commitment, when, for the first time, I dressed completely, with lingerie, stockings, heels, wig, makeup, long lacquered nails, artificial lashes, long dangling earrings and even her perfume. I had several collections of pettis, some of which got given away when I was discovered by my wife, and had to dispose of everything. Others were burned one day in a wild purging fire, when I tried to “reform” on my own. I even lived for 9 days completely as a woman, when my wife was on a trip. It was a super experience, day and night. I even had the nerve to go out in public several times, walking around the block, or in a neighborhood shopping  mall, or finally going into two stores to buy things I did not need. I was driven and excited beyond imagination, but probably did not pass very well due to my large stature, my broad hands, and my non-desire to speak and make a fool of myself. I do have great legs, though. It is now only a memory, with all my collections disbursed to thrift shops or burned. But the experiences were some I will never forget.

I may be a genetic man and am strictly heterosexual, but inside I often feel I should have come out differently. I love opera, good music and the ballet. I write novels and poetry when I feel inspired. I draw very well, I compose classical music. I am quiet, gentle and helpful. I don’t feel competitive. I understand women well and always have. Never had a problem with a girlfriend wanting to break up, it was always me who did so. I understand instinctively how a girl should act, while the male role does not come very naturally. I shed tears openly during sad or very moving movies. In a relationship I would choose romance over sex any day of the week. I would have made a wonderful wife for someone.

I really enjoyed the presentation about Stella and Cora. Cora was my kind  of woman. If I were a man, she would have turned me on. Guess I like strong women who know what they are doing. And if I were a woman, Cora is kind of the woman I would like to be (or maybe Carla). I would be more daring, unpredictable, never letting the men know what I would do next. I fantasize that I would often dress in Victorian style, with petticoats,
corset, and rather nicely bared bustline. When other girls would dress in short dresses, I would wear a very long, figure-revealing skirt and top, with long sleeves and high neckline. Maybe a catsuit. Where they would wear jeans to a picnic or outdoor activity, I would wear a very girlish pink-checked gingham frock, with low neckline and puffed sleeves, wide
full skirts, heavily petticoated, a broad brimmed white straw hat, short white lace gloves and carry a lacy parasol. When they would all wear conservative long prom dresses, I would wear a silver micro-mini skirt with a sequined top, much like Christina. I would be one heck of an exciting date, but then I would be very old fashioned in my moral behavior.
I would try to excite and provoke everyone but give in to no one. Teasing is definitely where it is at. Cora knew this and so did Scarlett O’Hara. Carla was an expert. Which one of us does not remember the girl who teased him?

In retrospect, I have to say that I am pleased with my life. It has been good, with a wonderful wife and with many rewards. I guess I never was the great competitive male that I should have been. I made a good and faithful husband and an excellent father. I never made a fortune. I never got famous. I often wonder what my life would have been like had I been put together "correctly", my male body with male drives and male behavior, or a female body with my inner makeup and understanding of female instincts and behavior. I can only guess. But sometimes I get a bit wistful when I think that but for one chromosome what might have been.

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