When we moved, the block we moved to didn't have any boys my age on it. There were, however, five girls my age. They were my playmates. We played jacks, hopscotch, tag, dress up and all sorts of other made up games; I even learned to twirl a baton. In grade school, my two best friends were girls. With few exceptions, all the kids I played with up until high school were girls.
The few older boys on the block used to tease me and want to beat me up for playing with the girls all the time. My girl friends told me to ignore them and that they were just a bunch of dumb boys. I remember feeling distinctly different from them (the older boys that is) and wanting to be more like my girl friends. I saw no difference between my girl friends and myself, and they treated me no differently. To them, I was one of them and not one of the dumb boys.
Somewhere around the time I was ten, I had what I can only describe as a real girlfriend. She lived around the block from me and we would play together all the time. We would eat over at each other's house, ride bikes together, etc. We even exchanged Valentine's with each other (somewhere I still have a card from her!) She was the closest childhood friend I've ever had, and when she moved away I was devastated. As silly as it may sound, I still miss her.
(The first girl to have what I consider a profound impact on me. We were equals, sharing many good times together, and I felt most at ease when I was with her.)
Somewhere around thirteen, a number of things happened which I think are important. I was taken out of public school and sent to an all boys private school (for a better education.) It was also around this same time that my interest in women's clothing seems to have manifest itself (coincidence, I think not.) I would try on my mother's underwear. Just my luck, I liked it. (More on this later.)
More importantly though, I made new friend around the corner. She was my age and we got along great. She had this little game she liked to play; we would go into the shed in her backyard and swap underpants, usually for the afternoon. (I remember the first time we did this. Her panties were yellow with little flowers on them. They fit differently than my own briefs; they fit nicely and I liked it.) We did this quite often. One time she had to go in before we could switch them back. So, I went home in her panties and she in my briefs. We were both so scared, but no one found out. Then next day we returned each other's undies. Needless to say, we continued to do this for a few years, many times swapping undies for the day and not swapping back.
(The second girl to have what I consider a profound impact on me. I consider this to be a pivotal point in my psychological development; we both felt that something about what we were doing wasn't quite right, but we mutually enjoyed it. We were friends, it was our secret and it was fun. How bad could it be?)
At around fourteen, I started wearing pantyhose to school. I'd borrow a pair from my mother's dresser, where them a few times, rinse them out and put them back. To my knowledge, she never knew. And so begins my spiral into the confusing world of puberty and crossdressing.
Back to Chapter 2
On to Chapter 4