Frustrated I let out a heartfelt yell. “ARRRGGGHH!!!”

It was another purge. Against my will I threw all my female clothing and related items into garbage bags. How long could I keep doing this? It started out fine, and then it seemed like it was tearing me apart. I loved getting dressed up, I really did. But then, unexpectedly I’d just feel like it was wrong of me to do, tear the clothes off and get rid of them.

Maybe I could get someone to hypnotize this urge away?

Dressing was cutting into my social life, not that that was so vibrant. A lot of my off time was just spent lounging around in dresses and skirts. I was sometimes loathe to take it all off and just go outside for fresh air. Sometimes I resented that I had to get dressed in male clothes to go to work, go shopping, whatever. I didn’t enjoy being torn like this.

‘It’s December,’ I thought, as I dragged the bags to the garage, ‘Maybe this time I’ll make a New Year’s Resolution to be done with this!’ Yeah, strength of will!…Man! (Man?)

When I was younger I did used to make New Year’s Resolutions. Like, stop chewing my nails, stop eating so much candy, finally clean up my desk and keep it clean. I had an iffy track record on these. Could I be successful with this?

Well, that’s it! I would do it. I would resolve not to cross dress anymore. Finito!

Leaving the bags in the garage I felt a little better. I went back inside and made some tea.

-o0o-

I was invited to a New Year’s Eve party, at my friend Stan’s house. We’d been friends since high school. Unlike me he’d gotten on with his life, married, had a kid. He had always been very kind to me. Both he and his wife, Holly, felt sorry for me, being a lonely bachelor. They had tried more than once to set me up with friends of theirs, but the relationships never took.

I wasn’t really expecting them to try again at this party. I knew it wasn’t easy to pair me up with anyone. Lots of women seemed to look past or through me; I was never sure what it was about me that caused me to be invisible. Maybe they were all looking for large he-men. Why don’t women seem to take the smaller guys seriously?

-o0o-

The party seemed to be in full swing when I arrived at 10. I found Stan and Holly and said hello, and then wandered around. It was the sort of party where people stood around in little groups, so I just observed them. I didn’t know many, and wasn’t good at joining conversations. Eventually I tired of that and made my way outside to a sunlounger by the pool, and just sat back. Few people were outside, and I was okay with that. For the end of the year it was a balmy night, and I enjoyed sitting there looking at the night sky and the soft undulations of the water in the pool. The music wasn’t too loud out here, and I relaxed and closed my eyes.

“Mind if I join you?” said a pleasant female voice.

Rousing myself, I opened my eyes to see a very attractive woman just settling down next to me.

“Not at all.”

“I see why you’re out here; it’s very relaxing.”

“Yeah, you can’t beat a beautiful night like this in California.”

“Especially in December,” she said. “I’m Nicole.”

“Jean,” I said. I use the French pronunciation, Zsahn, since that’s what my parents intended. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Zsahn?” she asked.

“Yeah, you know, like Captain Jean-Luc Picard, of the Enterprise.”

She giggled.

“I never met anyone named after a Star Trek character before,” she said.

“And you still haven’t,” I replied. “I’m named after a great-uncle or something. Someone back in France.”

We lay there silently for a while.

“So how do you know Stan and Holly?” she asked.

“Stan and I met in high school, and have somehow remained friends. You?”

“Holly and I met in college.”

This icebreaker made conversation easier, and from there it seemed to flow very effortlessly. Before we knew it we were called to come inside for the midnight countdown. When we got up she turned out to be about my height, maybe a couple inches taller. She looked more attractive to me now than she had when she sat down. She actually took my hand and we went inside together. The countdown was already in progress.

“Four, three, two, one—Hap-py New Year!”

Lots of clapping, and to my surprise Nicole turned to me and kissed me! She caught me so totally by surprise that I was hardly able to return the kiss. She smiled at my flummoxed look.

A half hour later I started to really feel tired. Since I wasn’t much of a partier anyway, I decided it was about time for me to go. Nicole had wandered off to talk to other people she knew, and after I said goodbye to the host and hostess, I went to find her.

She was talking to two large guys, who, to my eye, had lustful looks on their faces.

“Excuse me, Nicole?”

As she was turning, the larger of the two guys looked at me and said, “Get lost, shorty. We’re busy here.”

Inwardly sighing at this kind of behavior by people in our late twenties/early thirties age group, I said nothing to him in reply. But Nicole did turn to me, questioningly.

“Just wanted to say it was nice meeting you, and goodnight.”

“You’re leaving already?”

“Yeah, I was up early today. It’s been a long day.”

“Well, it was very nice to meet you also,” she said, and then stepped closer and gave me a passionate kiss that left me stunned. I presumed this was for the benefit of the two jerks she was with.

With a silly smile on my face I left the house and drove home. Meeting Nicole had been refreshing, and those kisses were great!

-o0o-

New Year’s Day was quiet, and I just puttered around the house. I spent time thinking about Nicole and how pleasant it was to talk to her, but with my track record it was going to be a one-time thing, which is why I didn’t even ask for her phone number.

So I was startled when my phone rang an hour later. Other than robocalls I didn’t receive many phone calls. And who should it be but Nicole!

“Hello Jeannnnn,” she said, drawing my name out in a very sexy way.

“Nicole! You’re the last person I expected to hear from. Did I give you my number?”

“No, I asked Holly for it. I thought we got along quite well last night and I wanted to see you again.”

Floored wasn’t the exact word to describe how I was feeling, but it was close.

“If you’re not doing anything would you like to come over to my house? We can just hang out.”

“Well, um, sure I would. I’d love to see you again too!”

She gave me directions, and in a few minutes I was out the door and on my way.

-o0o-

When I arrived at Nicole’s and rang the bell, she opened the door within five seconds and gave me a big smile. She pulled me inside, closed the door and gave me a deep kiss. I didn’t know what was going on. We hardly knew each other and she was acting as if we were lovers parted for too long.

I also noticed she was taller than last night. Glancing down I saw she was in heels.

“Nicole, not that I don’t appreciate it, but what did I do to deserve that kiss?”

With her arms still around me, she smiled into my eyes, and said, “I just think you and I have a real connection, and I want to celebrate it. When we were talking last night I felt like we had known each other for years.”

She kept one arm around my shoulders and walked me over to the sofa, where we sat down together.

“I felt very comfortable with you too. I’m just…not really used to women taking any interest in me.”

“I can’t see why not,” she said.

“A lot of women don’t like shorter guys,” I informed her. “They don’t see them as viable partners.”

“Well, then I am certainly not like a lot of women,” she said.

We sat there and chatted for quite a while, telling each other more about our lives. I really liked her.

-o0o-

Nicole and I started dating, and she was right: we did have a real connection. It didn’t surprise me to find that she was the dominant partner, and I decided I was okay with that. She was about four years older than I was, and told me she had a job in makeup at a movie studio. I told her I was a photographer’s assistant.

We were having fun with each other, and we hadn’t slept together. I was going to leave that option up to her. She was in charge and hadn’t led me wrong thus far. But then one day at her place a crack in the romantic relationship appeared.

“Jean, I have an invitation to a costume party,” she told me. “I’d like you to come with me, and I have a vague idea for costumes for us.”

“What do you have in mind? Super heroes? Snow White and a dwarf? Princess and the Pea?”

“I haven’t gotten the idea all worked out yet, but when I do I’ll tell you.”

“Okey doke,” I said, and promptly forgot all about it.

A week later she brought up the subject again.

“Okay, I know what we’re going to be!”

“Huh?”

“For the costume party.”

“Oh? What did you come up with?”

“Lorelei and Rory, from ‘Gilmore Girls.’ Or else Romy and Michelle, from ‘Romy and Michelle’s High School Reunion.’”

My heart fell.

“You…want us to go as two girls?”

“Yeah, it’ll be perfect! You’re a bit shorter, and pretty cute already. With my makeup skills I think I can make you look a lot like Rory.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Nicole. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why not? It’s a costume party.”

How could I bring up my New Year’s resolution without outing myself to her? And if I did go ahead and do it, and someone figured out who I was, no one would ever forget the time the grown man posed as a teen-aged girl. I’d never hear the end of it.

“I, I just can’t.”

“Hmm. I would have thought you were secure enough in your manhood to do something like this,” she said, sounding disappointed. I recognized this as a lame argument women sometimes used to goad the guy into doing something he might easily regret.

“Maybe you’re not the man I thought you were.”

“I guess maybe I’m not. I’m very sorry.” I regretfully turned and made my way out of her house. It wasn’t the first time a woman had been disappointed in me, but it was the time that hurt the most.

I drove straight back home, and went in and lay down on my couch. Letting my eyes just stare at the ceiling I allowed myself to cry about this. I really liked Nicole, but I didn’t like the blackmaily way she tried to get me to do what she wanted. Sure it was just a New Year’s resolution, but I was really trying to avoid the whole collect/purge cycle. Also, I had no idea if she viewed this costume thing as a “ha ha, look at the man in the dress,” or what. She had given me no reason to think she wanted to make fun of me, but I could see others making fun of me as the ultimate outcome.

Well, I guess it didn’t really matter anyway. We were obviously done, after that last comment of hers.

My phone rang then. Looking at the number, it was Nicole, but I wasn’t in the mood to talk to her, or to argue. She didn’t leave a voicemail.

-o0o-

Nicole called a couple more times the next day. I didn’t understand what there was to be gained by rehashing the whole costume thing, so I didn’t answer.

The next day was a Saturday, and I was home, in my back yard, just sitting having some tea. I started to hear a banging noise from my house, or garage. I got up to find out who it was.

Opening the kitchen door into the garage who should be standing there but Nicole. She was holding some of my bagged-up clothes—which I hadn’t quite gotten rid of yet.

“Jean, I’d like to talk to you, if you don’t mind, since you won’t answer your phone.”

With a sinking feeling I led her into the living room.

“Would you like something to drink?” I asked, trying to be a good host at least.

“That tea looks nice, thanks.”

I went back in the kitchen and made up a cup for her, wondering what was coming, now that she had made her little discovery. Bringing the cup on a tray with cream and sugar I put it on the TV table next to her seat.

“I’m curious, Jean. Why would a guy who doesn’t want to dress like a girl have a pile of girl’s clothes?”

I hesitated. Any excuse I could think of would sound lame and like a lie.

“Nicole, I don’t know what, if anything, you know about cross dressers, but some of us go through a cycle where we collect clothes, and then suddenly we feel the whole dressing thing is terribly wrong, and we just have to get rid of everything. I’ve gone through the cycle several times and I don’t like it at all. It really feels awful, very emotionally draining. So in December I made a New Year’s resolution to not dress again. There. There’s your explanation.”

I waited while she processed that.

“I’m sorry. I had no idea there was any such thing like that. That explains why you didn’t want to go as Rory.”

“I did want to, but that would put me right back in the cycle. And I couldn’t tell you why without admitting I was a cross dresser, which almost no man wants to admit. I didn’t want to lose you, but I ended up losing you anyway.”

Her expression became very sympathetic.

“I understand. And I know I didn’t help by the way I handled it. I apologize.”

“Thank you.” I was glad she was so understanding, but I still felt pretty low.

“So what are those clothes still doing here?”

“I just haven’t gotten around to taking them to the donation box.”

“Why don’t I take them for you? There’s one on the way back to my place.”

Regretfully I said, “Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

She got up to leave. I rose to see her out. She turned and put a hand on my cheek.

“Jean, we’re not done yet,” she said enigmatically, and went out the garage door.

We’re not done what yet?

-o0o-

On Sunday she phoned me, and this time I answered.

“Would you like to come over here?”

“Nicole, I’m confused. Why would you want to see me?”

“I have some things to talk to you about, and I’d prefer to do it in person.”

“Well, okay. I’ll see you in twenty minutes.”

I pulled up in front of her place and looked at the house. What was going on? Weren’t we “over?”

Inside she sat me down, and to my surprise sat next to me with her arm around me.

“Jean, I’ve done a lot of research since yesterday about this purge cycle you were talking about.”

Oh. Ugh.

“First, I want to ask you what your feelings are when you decide to purge.”

“Oh. Well, um, I just suddenly feel like it’s wrong, a bad thing to do, and I want to rip the clothes off.”

“Well, what is wrong about it?”

I looked at her like she was crazy. “Men aren’t supposed to wear women’s clothes!”

“And why is that?”

“Um, well, because… isn’t there something in the bible about it?”

“Whatever you can find in the bible, you can probably find something contradictory as well. What makes you feel like it’s wrong?”

I was getting uncomfortable. “It’s just not right. You know, like when you see a show where the man has to wear a dress, it’s always a joke of some kind. Or there’s something wrong with him to do that. Society looks down on cross-dressers.”

“When you are dressed up, how do you feel?”

I smiled. “It feels great. The fabrics are nice, the way the skirt moves and caresses my legs. I even like the constriction of the lingerie.” My smile fell. “But it’s not right. There’s something wrong with me to want to do it.”

Her arm tightened around me.

“No, Jean, there is nothing wrong with you. It’s a built-in urge that is not going to go away. You’ll only make yourself miserable by trying to stop. There is nothing wrong with wearing clothing of the opposite sex. They’re just clothes. They don’t make you into the opposite sex. They don’t indicate who you are inside anymore than you can tell what a present is by judging the wrapping paper.

“The part that is ‘wrong’ is that you feel bad about doing it. Somewhere along the line some person, persons, or just Society has instilled this idea in you that there is something off or perverted about cross-dressing, but it’s not really true.”

I looked at her, and saw nothing but caring and concern in her eyes.

“I thought you were dumping me.”

She sighed. “Jean, it was you who walked out on me. And how shallow a person would I be if I were to dump you over something like this? You really don’t have much experience with adult relationships, do you.”

Squirming, I said, “Well, no, not so much.”

“People have disagreements. They’re bound to. It’s part of how we learn about each other. Now, I didn’t ask you all these questions just so you’d go to the costume party. I would really like to help you come to terms with this urge of yours. I wouldn’t want you to end up some unhappy and lonely guy just because you won’t do something as simple as putting on clothes.”

I didn’t know what to say. I just sat there with her arm around me, looking down at my hands. This was hard. How could I just forget the way I got these sudden feelings to rip all those clothes off and trash them? If she was really right about this, I’d have to somehow get past those feelings and convince myself there was nothing wrong in what I was doing. Right now that didn’t seem as if it would be possible. What was going to happen the first time those feelings arose?

“How would you like to show me how pretty you can be?”

I looked at her in surprise. “What? Now??”

“Why not? If you get that Urge to Purge I’ll be right here with you to talk you out of it.”

“I dunno… it doesn’t usually happen the first few times. Mostly it waits until I’ve spent a lot of money on clothes, and then it hits. Plus, I’ve never been dressed in front of anyone before. Besides, I don’t have any clothes anymore.”

“It so happens that I brought your bags home with me. It’s all in the spare room. You have some pretty nice things. Well, you also have some kind of frumpy and out-of–fashion clothes too! As for being dressed in front of someone, you can make an exception for your girlfriend, can’t you?”

Maybe this was going too fast for me. We’d gone from exes (at least from my viewpoint) to her being my ‘official’ girlfriend? I was starting to feel like an inexperienced teenager. Maybe PRE-teen!

“I really feel stupid, Nicole.”

“Why’s that?”

“Oh, I thought we were broken up, and now here you are trying to help me through this. I really don’t know anything.”

She kissed my cheek. “Let me help you learn, honey.”

She got up and pulled me up, led me to her spare room, where all my purged clothes were now hanging up and in piles.

“Let me pick out an outfit for you,” she said, flipping through the dresses. “Some of these are really adorable, but they’re for someone younger than you. And they’re mostly pretty feminine.”

“I know, but that’s sometimes what happens when you’re short.”

“Unless you’re a savvy shopper! But I also read that many cross dressers like very girly stuff. Maybe they think it compensates for their lack of being a girl—that part wasn’t covered in what I read.”

“Makes sense, I guess.”

She pulled out a purple knee-length dress, with short sleeves, and a kind of band under the bust, with a full, gathered skirt. I’d always liked that one. Well, heck, I’d always liked all of them!

She pointed. “There is all your lingerie. I didn’t see any makeup kit in the bags.”

“No, I never learned to do that. I didn’t spend a lot of time looking in mirrors; it was more about how the clothes felt.”

“Okay. Then it’s a good thing you know a professional makeup artist! Now do you want help? Or would you rather dress in private?”

Hmm.

“I think I’d rather do it privately, if you don’t mind.”

“No problem.” She kissed me again and left the room. And there I was with all my old clothes. Should I have trashed them right away, or was she right, and I could get past the Urge to Purge? Well…

I found a bra and my prosthetics, a pair of panties. Then a cami and a nice full half-slip, and put on the dress. So far so good. My legs were already smooth, so I skipped hosiery. Getting my comb out of my jeans pocket I looked in the mirror and parted my hair in the middle.

Now came the hard part: going out that door and letting her see me. Gah!

Walking back out to the living room, she looked up and her eyes lit up.

“Ooh! Very nice! Now let me do your makeup. Come over to the table.”

She had already retrieved her makeup kit from wherever it must live. It was a pretty big one, not that I knew what to expect. Bigger than a fishing tackle box anyway. She worked on me for forty-five minutes. Promising me she would go easy on my eyebrows she just plucked a few hairs there. The rest was all about blending, shading, mascara, and a bunch of other stuff I didn’t understand.

She also did a few more things with my hair, which helped hide my male hairline.

“There! You look spectacular,” she said, smiling.

Hard to believe, but she led me to her bedroom mirror to take a look. At first I looked behind me to see who that was. This woman looked almost nothing like me. She wasn’t stunning, but she was good-looking. I was just amazed.

“How’d you do that?” I said, in wonder.

“Told you; I’m a professional!”

I knew it was me, but I still couldn’t believe it.

“Now, if you were to come to the costume party, would anyone recognize you?”

“Heck, I don’t even recognize me!”

“Okay, now come back to the table and I’m going to try something else.”

She worked on me for another forty-five minutes, and this time when we went to the mirror I saw a younger girl who sort of resembled Rory Gilmore.

“Wow! You really know your stuff! My eyes look so big!”

“We could even get your some blue contact lenses, if you’re willing to go.”

I looked at her. “Nicole, I really don’t know anything about girl behavior and movement, not to mention I don’t have a very convincing female voice. I think in no time people would clock me as male. That’s something most cross dressers dread.”

“Jean, I’m not going to force you to go to this party, so stop worrying about that. There are ways of teaching you all those things, but I don’t think we have enough time before the party. In case you eventually decide to go outside I can help you learn what you need to know.”

Naturally my immediate instinct was to say No Way, but I looked at the girl in the mirror and thought, ‘Well, she looks good. Maybe we’ll just see how things go.’

I turned to her and put my arms around her neck for a hug. We stood there for a while and then she moved her head so she could kiss me. I had never kissed anyone while dressed up, and it made me feel different. I was aware of what I was wearing, and of the airy feeling below, and it all somehow made the kiss more intense for me. I was really enjoying it, and she started to walk backwards, still kissing me and with her arms around me. I was pulled along with short little steps. She turned us around and put me on my back on the bed, with her on top of me.

From there we proceeded into a full-blown cuddling session. During a brief break she reached into her bedside table and rummaged in there for a condom, and yes, we made love for the first time, both still dressed.

-o0o-

“Jean,” she said afterward (using the female pronunciation), “that was wonderful. I’m very surprised to say you actually turn me on looking like a cute girl. I had no idea I would feel like that about your dressing.”

Lying next to her, I asked, “Did you think you wouldn’t like it?”

“No, not that. I had no preconceptions. Although I might have vaguely wondered if it would feel like lesbian sex. It didn’t!”

“Well, thank you for telling me. That might help with how I feel about this.”

“I hope so, because this was pretty fun!”

-o0o-

Somehow, maybe because of Nicole’s acceptance, I didn’t have any panics resulting in the purging urge. She patiently worked with me on developing feminine behavior, and I read stuff and watched YouTube videos on how to project a feminine voice. She also taught me the steps I needed to follow to make myself up so I didn’t look like Jean. As a result we were spending a lot more time together. One topic on my mind was wondering how easily I would be able to control my behavior and movements when I switched back and forth. Was it going to become so automatic that everyone at work would think I was flaming gay? I decided to try not to think about it, but if someone commented, then I would try and assess how I was acting.

At any rate, I was becoming more comfortable with my female persona, and Nicole encouraged me since, after all, she really liked that side of me. I asked her to call me Leanne since I didn’t really like Jean as my femme name.

“Leanne,” she asked me one day. “I’d like to take you out to do some shoe shopping. I know you have only one pair of sandals, and you deserve something fancier.”

I knew this day was coming, and the thought of going outside scared me, but I was a lot more confident in my presentation now. And this might not be a bad test for the first time out.

“Okay, Nicole. I’m willing to go outside with you.”

“Honey, I know this is a big step for you, but I don’t think anyone will look twice at you, other than to check you out.”

Oh. Yeah, we hadn’t gone over what to do in a situation like that. But as she drove us to the mall she gave me all the advice she could think of on how to act.

We got to the mall and entered, with me feeling horribly conspicuous, and found the shoe store she had in mind. She saw to it that I got a pair with a very low heel. Turns out she really enjoyed being taller than me. And she told the clerk, “She’ll wear them out of the store.” They must have wondered if she was my mother!

She had us stop at the food court for a drink and a snack before we left for home. Once there she said, “I thought you did really well. How nervous were you?”

“Nervous, but actually not as nervous as I thought I’d be. Thank you for all your help.”

--o0o-

Most of time we spent together I was Leanne, and we did end up going out together to meals and various events. We were in Love, with a capital L.

By now the calendar had just turned to December.

“Leanne, have you made any New Year’s Resolutions for next year?”

“Should I? I didn’t keep this year’s resolution.”

“Well, I would say that there was a very good resolution to your resolution for this year!”

Laughing at her play on words, I had to agree with her.

“And I have one in mind for you, if you’re interested: resolve to move in with me.”

A big smile broke out on my face, and I turned to hug her.

“If you’re sure, I would love to resolve to do that!”

And so I did.

The End