Every Time We Say Goodbye

There are aspects of straddling the gender divide that are hard to label successfully, in my humble opinion. I read blogs of self-described crossdressers that sometimes sound eerily familiar to me from reading blogs of self-described transexuals. We may be 'mainly this or that' but it seems we each can learn something about ourselves by empathizing with the other, unless of course, we are in the enviable position of having definitively 'solved' our 'problem'.

On a personal note, it is pleasing to be able to declare that having a balance between two halves of my psyche is going well. To recap, each morning I acknowledge to myself that presenting as a male is a bad, but necessary compromise that a long life of denial has made necessary for me. Having done that, and accepting that my mind and heart is somewhere else, it is time to move on and get on with my day as best I can.

I do not, I cannot dress the way my heart dictates, not even a little. Tempting as it might seem,  I am not the sort who can do the androgyny look, apart from the obvious. Lots of women are about in golf shirts, shorts and sandals in my part of the world right now, and that tends to be my uniform. Hairy legs are a giveaway of course as is the cut and style. My issue is not with the clothes at any rate; it is about who I am, and how that is expressed.

If I was going to accessorize my golf shirt, shorts  and sandals as Halle, it would be part of taking full control of the situation (moving to the driver's seat, as it were) and leaving the man behind. To say it bluntly, I must be one or the other gender on the outside. If I cross that line, there will be no heading back, because the mental crisis of back and forth, man today, woman tomorrow, is not something I could survive for long.

It has been said before here that I envy those who carefully and convincingly present in both the male and female, and seemingly dance back and forth at will. The word 'seemingly' was used intentionally. Every now and then these cross dressing friends (some I correspond with, but have not yet met, sadly) will write a post that makes me wonder whether they also suffer from a psychic malaise that going back to male brings after giving the woman inside full control for a while.

For me who knows I cannot do it, and for you who take the risk of having your heart ripped out each time you need to put yourself away again, a song that has been playing in my mind for a long time, and needs to be put out there.

Cole Porter was not likely thinking about our situation, but his lyrics and the music tell that story of loss better than a thousand of my words ever can.