I have considered posting this mini-bio for a while. I have finally decided the positives (possibly helping others put their own situation in perspective, possible new friendships) outweigh the negative (dealing with trolls). So here it is:

When I got married I considered myself TV (the term has evolved and acquired connotations such that today, CD might be more appropriate). I told my fiance and presented her with some Virginia Prince literature by way of explanation. She became an “A” wife. She helped select my name, build a wardrobe, learn makeup, and behave more ladylike. She encouraged me to join FPE (I was a member through the merger into tri-ESS). After a couple of relocations, she encouraged me to join a more diverse group, which included gays and transsexuals. She enjoyed this group, especially drawing out some of the shyer members, and the love she got for just treating them as human beings. Spending more time as Cheryl, I learned some things about myself. One, I was not TS. Getting to know a few, they really regarded their genitals as gruesome deformities, whereas I was rather attached to mine and enjoyed using them with my wife. I still wonder how much of their attitude was dysphoria and how much was dictated to meet standards of care. I also found that I had become more attracted to the role, and less attracted to the clothes. Being accepted as one of the girls was more fulfilling than dressing as one.

Another relocation changed things. I accepted a relocation (after I and at least 3 other people had turned down the new position) as opposed to becoming unemployed in the rust belt during a recession, with a crushing mortgage. My wife was happy where she was and didn’t want to move. (An aside, as we were packing the moving van, our neighbor came with the news that the company was closing the location where I worked. This despite a special meeting, only two months earlier to reassure workers, that this was not in the cards.) Only 5 weeks after our move our 11-year-old son was hit by a truck and killed. We never really communicated again. My already cold relationship with religion was frozen by some idiot sending us an anonymous note on wide lined yellow paper, written in a second grade printed scrawl. “Repent, God is punishing you.” I seethed with rage, over my inability to protect my wife from the hurt that caused. Nevertheless, she looked to religion for answers.

We could bring each other down but not up. When she screamed at me, “You didn’t even know him!” when I remembered our son as the noise, the energy, and the enthusiasm in the family, while she remembered a needy dependent little boy, who gave to her, her mommy identity. For me, that was the end.

I became a single parent, in the bible belt, in a relatively small town (20,000). This drove Cheryl, back into the closet. (I did make a foray to tri-ESS in the nearest major city, but I missed my wife’s help and encouragement, and the risk/reward had shifted greatly, and I was probably too depressed to have the energy Cheryl required.)

These days, Cheryl exists mostly on Big Closet. I like to characterize myself as a Social Transgender to emphasize the gender role over the clothing. I prefer the kinder, gentler persona, to the grumpy old man of RL.