The Strange Case of The Mysterious Hose

When I look back on the past decades I can’t help but be amazed about the progress that has been made in the TG community. From back in the day when there was no actual TG community to the way things are now; The word transgender appears in newspapers, TG characters are on television, TGs are entering the homecoming queen contests in high schools (and winning!). It’s a new world.

Here’s a little tale that shows how much things have changed among people I have known for years. It’s an instructive tale about being in the closet and coming out of the closet for different reasons and at different times. And there’s the Strange Case of the Mysterious Pantyhose, too.

This story is true and I was one of the characters involved. The names of the others have been changed to protect their secret identities.

In the early ’70s I went to college in a large eastern university. I left school and gave in to the impulse to just settle down in the college town and get a job. My old roommate from college, we’ll call him Frank, and another friend, named Joe for this story, got an apartment together to keep costs down. There were two bedrooms. I took one, Frank had the other and Joe slept in the living room on the coach. We hung a curtain across the living room entrance so he had his privacy. The curtain did nothing to dull his snoring, though.

At that time I had been experimenting with crossdressing in a limited way. I had lived in a room off campus for one summer and in those bygone hippy days there were things like “free stores” where you could trade, barter or just take things. I had after hours access to one such free store through my job. After everyone was gone I was still in the building and I would prowl the free store for ladies items in my size. I accumulated a small collection of things, including a gorgeous pair of brown suede pumps that I wish I still had. After the one summer of off campus living I had to go back to the dorm and in a fit of paranoia I tossed all my girl stuff into a dumpster one night. I became irrationally afraid that my roommate, Frank, would find the stash and there’d be hell to pay.

When Frank, Joe and I moved into our apartment I had no ladies items at all hidden among my belongings. So, late one night, I was totally shocked to wake up and find a pair of pantyhose hanging off of the stereo system next to my bed.

There they were, hanging there in a completely innocent way. “What are you looking at?” they seemed to say. My mind raced with possible ways they could have gotten there. I was always a science fiction fan and briefly considered the possibility that at some point the space time continuum had been breached and the pantyhose belonging to female residents of the apartment at another point in time may have been sucked into my present reality. Something like that would take enormous energy. There were no signs of temporal distortion, no burn marks or that electrical discharge you get when a time machine has been operating. It was that—along with the realization that it was most probably impossible that made me think it likely the hose had something to do with one of my roommates.

At that time Joe had a job in a laundromat. He was the attendant (oh for the old days when there were laundromat attendants) and had access to clothing that got left behind. He was the most likely suspect. But, what should I do?

The hose were still hanging there. I longed to slide my legs into them and see what they felt like. But maybe that was the scam! Maybe my roommates were hiding outside waiting for me to put them on so they could burst in and make fun of me! I couldn’t take that chance so I decided to case the joint.

Snores came from the living room when I checked there. Frank’s bedroom door was closed and his light was out so he seemed to be asleep as well. I stood in the dark hallway and tried to figure out what I should do. If I just put the hose in a hiding place I might be able to slip into them at another, safer, time. If I did that though then someone in the house would know that I was keeping quiet. They’d know I was hiding pantyhose for my own fell purpose. It could be a test.

Finally, I decided to take the hose and drape them over the curtain rod in the bathroom. In the morning I could claim no knowledge of them. I did that and then fell back to sleep.

The next day Frank and Joe both admitted to finding a pair of hose next to their beds. (Joe’s were next to his couch.) I admitted finding a pair and putting them in the bathroom. No point in denying they were in my room. That would just look bad for me. There was much discussion and nothing was concluded.

Years went by and the mysterious pantyhose remained a mystery. I left the college town after having found a wife (and started secretly wearing her clothes) and the other old roommates went their separate ways. Frank moved to the other end of the state for several years. Joe stayed in the college town and make the leap from laundromat attendant to businessman.

After my divorce I decided that it was no longer necessary for me to deny myself the joy of crossdressing so I took advantage of my single status and started to buy clothes and dress in private. Over the years I built my femme persona and my wardrobe. By the early ’90 I had come out to just about everyone of importance in my life. During that time I told Frank, who had moved into the Philadelphia area some years before, and I had come out to Joe. (Still in the old college town.)

Both of them were accepting of my crossdressing and met me while I was crossdressed. They both seemed a bit sweaty during those meeting but I thought nothing of it. Meeting a person you have known for years suddenly disguised as a whole new person, and gender, has got to be nerve wracking.

Then, about eight or nine years ago, Frank called me one night. We talked about the usual male things that we always discussed and then said goodnight. A couple of minutes later the phone rang again. It was Frank. He told me he had to discuss something. Something that I might understand better than most.

It seems that the previous Halloween Frank had been invited to go out to a party with a woman he knew from work (and had a crush on) and a female friend of hers. They told Frank that all he had to do was come to her house and they would dress him in a great Halloween costume for the party.

You can see this one coming. Of course they dressed him up as a girl. Even going so far as to shave his legs. His co-worker’s friend was dressed as a sexy cop. After they had spent an hour or two at the party his friend had to go pick up her son and left Frank in the care of the sexy cop. She decided that she wanted to dress Frank up some more and took him to her beach house where she put him into several different (sexy) outfits and then had sex with him. (I know, I know, you’re all wailing “Why not me?”)

Frank found that after this experience he was very attracted to the idea of dressing up again. He had called me to not just ask what thought but also to find out where he could get a good wig. I did my best to help him out and to get him to come to a Renaissance support group meeting but he remained a closet CD and still is today. He would also not admit to ever thinking about crossdressing until his life changing Halloween adventure. He would also not admit to placing the pantyhose by the beds back in our roommate days. He told me he had gotten up to go to the bathroom and found all three pairs of hose hanging on the shower curtain rod. He decided to spread them around and see if anyone looked guilty in the morning. That was all he’d admit to. The hose remained a mystery.

Just a few weeks ago I got an email from Joe. We had drifted apart somewhat over the past few years and had only sporadic communications. We had made tentative plans to get together at the end of last year but he had not followed through on it and we hadn’t been in touch till this email arrived. It contained an apology for not getting together and said that Joe needed to talk to me about a lifestyle issue since I was his only connection to that lifestyle.

Aw, you guessed. Joe came out to me and said that he was very interested in creating a feminine social persona named Joey. He has been a closeted CD for many, many years and is now ready to start working on coming out and relating to others in his femme aspect.

I set up a phone call with him and we talked for an hour or more about what he should do (Of course I told him he just had to come to Angela’s Laptop Lounge) and he is finally, after thirty or more years of being in the closet, getting set to make his femme debut this fall. (We’re going to try and talk Frank into joining us from a femme reunion of the old macho guys.)

During the phone call with Joe I decided to finally solve the mystery of the mysterious pantyhose. I asked him if he had found the three pairs of hose at the laundromat and had then put them next to our beds. To my astonishment he denied doing it.

So, here we are in 2007. Both of my old roommates are now admitted crossdressers. One’s in the closet, one’s coming out of the closet and I’ve been pretty much open about it to anyone who matters for over twenty years.

Frank will probably be comfortable living out his days with some closet crossdressing. He has moved to a state in the south where staying in the closet is probably a good idea. Joe will work on his Joey aspect and probably be content with dressing one or two times a month. Just imagine if both of them had come out to me lo those many years ago. What kind of wild crossdressing fun might we have had if we had known way back then? They didn’t come out though until they did and the fabric of reality was set by the choices made. The only thing that remains fluid and unfixed in this reality is the mysterious pantyhose. Where did they come from? Was a time warp involved? Is there a crossdressing time traveler who washes out her hose in your shower and forgets to pick them up? No one knows. If I ever find out I’ll let you all know.

Category: Transgender Fun & Entertainment, Transgender Opinion