Close Calls

We crossdressers are diverse in many ways.

We do not pass to the same level. We do not choose to pass to the same level.

Some are ‘out’ to everyone. Some are ‘out’ to no one. Some are ‘out’ to only a select few, perhaps as few as one.

Those who are not ‘out’ are said to be ‘in the closet’. Being ‘in the closet’ does not mean we are living our lives in that room where we hang our clothes. It simply means that details about a certain part of our lives are not shared with others. Guess which part.

Such are the lives of many crossdressers that even when we are out and about en femme we can still be in the closet. Here is what I mean: take two adult males. Both are married to wonderful women who think their men are wonderful husbands and fathers. However, both men have secret lives for which they are considered in the closet.

One is a crossdresser who occasionally takes some time from his family, perhaps on a business trip, perhaps just an evening out, gets dolled up and joins like-minded friends at a convenient drag club. People see him. Perhaps even people who know his male self may see him but not recognize him, so he remains ‘in the closet’.

The other is a closet homosexual, a gay or perhaps bisexual man. He takes leave from his family and joins like-minded friends at a convenient gay club and by chance is seen by people who know him. They talk to others and word gets around. Soon, whether he wants to be or not, he is out of the closet.

I suspect that a lot of you are like me. We have a large group of friends in the trans community. We also have a large group of friends in the straight community. However the two groups of friends DO NOT cross mingle.

Some years ago, I was attending a weekend long gathering of the trans community and happened to be seated at a dinner table full of crossdressers. As we introduced ourselves it became clear that all eight of us were CDs who were usually in the closet. This annual event was one of our few opportunities to be out and to feel safe doing it. While we all went out in other settings like to gay or trans clubs, shopping, on visits out of town, even dating, and the like, none of us felt entirely safe in the other settings. We all had feelings ranging from living on the edge to impending doom that we might be accidentally outed against our will. We all had had close calls with being outed.

‘There’s a story here,’ I thought so I asked my new friends what their closest brushes with an accidental outing had been. The story was there but until now it has not been written. Here is what I remember:

Eight t-gals/crossdressers with eight stories; one of the stories is mine. However, I’ll not be telling you the names of the others nor which story belongs to which gal. The truth is that while I have some notes reminding me of the stories, I can’t recall who said what. Please just enjoy.

You Never Know Who You Are Going to Meet

First was Helen. I do remember her name, was the first to tell her story. Like the others she shared some personal details I am omitting. After so much time there is no sense putting in location details that may be obsolete. Helen lived by herself in a suburban neighborhood. She was separated. Her wife and kids had moved in with family in a town across the state. Helen did not like the arrangement, but it was what it was. You can probably guess the source of their marital conflict.

Sometimes Helen thought that she should move from her community to an area offering more anonymity, but she liked her male life there. She was involved with youth sports and with a variety of volunteer projects. It had been suggested that she get on the Board of the HOA but that was before the marriage breakup.

Helen travelled a bit. That chance to dress while out of town plus having the freedom to pull down all the shades and dress at home satisfied most of her CD desires, most but not all. While she would never have dressed up and gone walking or driving around her community Helen did sometimes enjoy late at night, putting on a nice outfit and going into the city’s gay area where one of the clubs had a drag show on Thursday nights. Helen was pretty sure that at that late hour and in that part of the city she would not meet anyone from her ‘straight world’.

She was mostly correct. However, two incidents gave her close calls and each time one hell of an adrenaline rush.

One time she was leaning against the back wall of the club, talking with two of her CD friends while casually watching the male strippers who were the warmup act for the drag show. A couple of men walked by with their eyes glued on the well-hung stripper flapping his cache-sex on stage. Helen said she knew one of the men. He was the husband of the president of their homeowners’ association. In retrospect Helen said she was not surprised to see him in a gay bar. While the president was a tall, husky woman he was a bit of a shorter ‘milquetoast’ type. He sang in a men’s barbershop group, claimed Helen.

“Ohh, that’s a bit of stereotyping,” I remember saying.

Helen let it go. She said that for the rest of the time she was there she made sure to avoid being close to her community friend. He was not interested in the ladies anyway. Helen’s best guess was that he was going to hook up for the evening with one of the male dancers.

The moment passed and apparently the next time the two neighbors met nothing was said of the incident.

“Me too,” said one of the other gals, “I mean my close encounter also came in a gay club.”

I remember this gal was a coach in a community male youth sports league. One time at her favorite gay/TG club two of her former players came into the club while she was there. She knew the boys/young men well. They knew her male persona. If they had seen him, they would have been calling him ‘Coach H’ or some letter like that. Apparently, they cruised around the club not paying any particular interest in her or any of the other t-girls there. Just the same she thought it was time to get out of there. She headed out the door and through the parking lot to her car. She heard laughter behind her, turned to recognize her two young friends behind her in the same direction. ‘What if they have recognized me?’ she thought. ‘What if they recognize my car?’

At one point in the large public parking lot she turned left when her car was to the right. A few moments later the guys also turned left. ‘Oh, shite!’ she thought. She slipped between two vehicles, turned her back to the boys and started pretending to rummage in her purse. She knew that in an instant something would happen. They would confront her or they would move on. She tried to think of a plausible story to tell the guys if they confronted her. It wasn’t coming. She felt so scared she could have peed herself.

Then it happened. The guys passed by without looking her way, without paying any attention as they talked and laughed with each other. They got in a car and soon the car was gone from the parking lot. Helen was too shaken to return to the club, she said. She, too, made her way home.

Close Encounter of the Mall Kind

Next Laura recounted how one time she was out at a large regional shopping mall. It was a weekday evening and the mall was pretty quiet. She liked having the chance to try on dresses at JCPenney, Macy’s and the other anchor stores. She was digressing so we brought her back on subject.

“Oh yes,” I remember her saying, “I had just come out of the second floor of Macy’s and was about to go down the stairs when I recognized the heads of my assistant and a friend of hers from work. They were about to come up the stairs. I turned and headed back into Macy’s.” I remember her saying that she didn’t know which way to go to hide. She knew and reminded us that we are not only readable by our faces but also by our bodies, posture, the way we walk, lots of features and mannerisms go into making up our unique — not fingerprint but body print. She said that she thought if anyone were to recognize her from behind it would be because of her shoulders. Later, I made a point to look at her from behind and yes, she did have rather broad shoulders and a tapered back.

Laura said she was fortunate the two friends were together as they were more interested in each other than in anyone else around. When they turned in one direction, I think towards houseware, Laura was able to go another way and out to her car.

Confronted at Home

“My close call happened right in my home,” said another. ”I live with my girlfriend and her two teenage daughters. At the time they did not know I liked to dress. The girls still don’t know but they almost found me out one day.” Our storyteller had a day off. Her partner was at work and the girls were at school. None were expected home until late afternoon. She had time to get dressed, go out to meet up with a friend, get home and changed before anyone else got home. It had worked several times before. Apparently on her way home our friend would find a place to change out of her femme gear and take off her basic make up and then have a shower and good facial scrub before the others got home.

This one time all went well except when she got home the girls were already there. It had been one of those school early dismissal days. The three chatted for a while before one of the girls asked her, “what is with your eyes? It looks like you have eyeliner on them.”

She said it was usually one of the things she liked about the girls and their mother. They were all so makeup astute and she could live vicariously through the way they were dolling themselves up. But not that day. She could have died right there.

“Really,” she exclaimed in shock as she headed to the bathroom to see for herself. Sure enough. She had neglected to remove all her eyeliner and even bits of her mascara. She knew that and figured she would have time to do so at home. But when she saw the girls, she forgot. Now she needed a story.

Returning to the girls she said, “Wow, that’s bad. I hope no one else noticed. I would be so embarrassed. I was interviewed today for a community television show. They had an intern doing some make-up practice. They asked if she could do something to bring out my eyes. I said sure then after the show I forgot to return to get the make-up taken off.” Our teller thinks the girls bought it as they said no more about it. Apparently, they didn’t even mention it to their mother. And apparently our friend had reason to be a frequent guest on community television, so the story was at least believable.

Ladies, that is four of the stories. I have four more to tell, including my own. I’ll tell you next time but, in the meantime, please feel free to add your own ‘closest call’ stories down below. It’ll be fun and perhaps a bit therapeutic.

More close calls next month.

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Tags: closeted, crossdressing, featured

Category: crossdressing