I can’t really be definite, but I can remember being fascinated by the female form as a child of five or six. I remember being in school, and many of our teachers wore dresses in those days. Under those dresses they would of course be wearing pantyhose. I couldn’t help myself but stare at their legs, especially when they wore nude or tan hose. I thought it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

Fast forward thirty years and I still love the female form, especially hosed legs. Hooter’s food may suck, but I enjoy looking at the girls in the short shorts and hosed legs. When I was married, I loved it when my wife would wear pantyhose. That is my personal secret fetish, though maybe it’s not so secret anymore, now that I’ve shared it with all of you.

As I grew up, my fascination with pantyhose became almost an obsession. When I flirted with crossdressing, you can imagine what article I naturally gravitated towards first. I loved the feel of wearing it when I would shave my legs. I loved wearing them under my jeans when I would go out in public, a secret only I would know. It’s a feeling I’m missing more everyday.

I made a choice almost a decade ago to leave my love of being a woman when I got together with the woman I would eventually marry. She never supported the idea of a crossdressing boyfriend/husband. I endured barbed comments the entire time I was with her, never mind that she was unfaithful the entire time, sleeping with both men and women. That was okay, but a transgendered husband was crossing some sort of line.

Even now that we’re divorced, I made mention of my desire to dress again. Predictably, she came out against it, going so far as to bring my step-daughter into it. “What would your daughter think?” She asked. I replied with a fervent “I don’t care!” It’s not like they are a part of my life. Which brings up something else.

There’s a woman I know who may be interested in me. My friend at work is pushing me to ask her out, but I’ve been reluctant to do so. A date is only a date, but in my mind and soul I’m wary to even do that. At this point in my life I only want to be involved with someone who can accept me for who I am, both male and female aspects to my personality. I’m not interested in mothballing Stefani again in order to make a commitment to another person. I don’t want to be miserable like that again.

At some point I’m going to have to be open with her if we do go out and become serious. She’s a great woman, smart, funny, and just a little bit crazy. Keeping her will me opening myself up to her, opening up to be accepted or rejected. I’ve been rejected so many times I don’t want to go through that again.

But my heart aches to be free. What’s more important, love or freedom? There’s no real choice, of course. I need both to be happy, and to be happy I need enough love and respect to have the freedom to be me. In return, they would own me completely. So no pressure.