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The loneliness of a mature crossdresser


As I entered my forties I began to realize that I really was a full fledged crossdresser and had been all my life. While this is a “no brainer” of a conclusion it struck me like a thunderbolt. I wanted desperately to get “out” but had no means of communication or ways to establish contacts. I presented as a woman but had nowhere to go. The “thrill” of dressing and going out alone in well lit neighbourhoods in a large city away from home, was wearing thin and I could only do it in the big city a few times a year. The constraints of living in a small (and quite redneck) town exacerbated my isolation and with it my loneliness. I wanted desperately to share my experiences and even better, go out with people who shared the common interest of crossdressing but I had no outlet. My isolation enormously increased my loneliness and frustration level. Along with my isolation I also had significant stress to deal with. For a long time I lived in a kind of bitchy PMS state and took the heads off people for rather trivial “affronts.”