Baby On Board Part 6
BABY ON BOARD PART 6
Around our twenty-fifth anniversary, I had shut down completely and our sex life came to a halt. I never touched her again though I'd grown to love her in most other ways again. My adoration never came back and the mourning for the girl I thought I'd married still haunted me at times. It was at these times I would have my crying spells. I became weary of the hurts still coming back after so many years and decided to see a real psychologist.
He charged a hundred and fifty dollars an hour but I was so desperate for some peace and happiness in my life, I thought it was worth it if he could help. I told him how I sometimes would be riding to or from work and without thinking of anything, I'd suddenly feel overwhelmed with grief and start crying. Over time, my childhood history and my marriage came into play. It took almost a year before I felt things had gone as far as they could and I stopped going to him. I guess it did some good though as I haven't had a crying spell in over twoyears.
During one session, I told him of my being raised in a Catholic school while living with my mother. They believed that when we die, we will be reunited with our loved ones in heaven. I told him I didn't want to ever see my wife or even remember her when I died. That she was my earth bound wife but represented all that I find disgusting in a human. She has no morals, no values, lies and finds nothing wrong with having sex with total strangers including young kids half her age. How could I ever want to spend eternity with someone I couldn't ever fully respect again.
He asked me why I stayed in the marriage and I told him the truth, because I had nothing else to go to. At least I have my kids and some remains of a family life. Anything was better than living alone in some dark apartment somewhere or heaven forbid, living with my mother like some demented old man. I had taking the less of two evils but it has cost me too. Though I had someone to share my daily life with, I still felt lonely at times because she was more like a room mate instead of a loving partner.
I explained how hard I tried to forgive her but her lies have never been resolved. We are still living a lie though we've learned to just not talk about it. What would be the sense if it only reaps more lies. So I have a room mate that reminds me of someone I loved long ago and I have my children whom I love dearly. As for myself, I find what satisfaction I can in my fetishes. And how does my wife feel? Who knows. I really don't care as it wouldn't matter if I did. I couldn't change what was to happen in the past and so why should I try now.
What I tried to protect was already gone. She's shown she'd do whatever she wanted regardless of how it would hurt me. So if she wants to run around behind my back, fine, just don't let me know about it because I really don't want to know. All I want is to get this life over with as it has been nothing but pain from the time I came into this world. I don't even care if I'm loved anymore. What is love anyway but a facade of broken promises.
I decided I needed to start thinking of what I wanted. At least I did have some control over my own happiness instead of trying to make someone else happy. We were married for twenty eight years now and because of my snoring and her tossing and turning, she started to stay up all night. She'd do her crafts while watching TV and I'd sleep so I could get up for work each morning.
Having the bedroom to myself felt both cold and empty. I started to sleep in baby dolls or gowns and it seemed to soothe me some. Later on I added some stuffed animals so I wouldn't feel so alone. I was in control and safe from being hurt again, or was I? I still used diapers for my sexual pleasures but it was less and less often as I explored my feminine side. Though I still felt a deep rooted loneliness, I could at least enjoy playing with my fantasies of being a little girl. A couple more years past and I kept needing more items to hold my interest.
Then one day at work, I thought of a great idea. I decided to call some local seamstresses and see if they'd make me some custom little girls dresses that would fit me. My first call said she would and for me to stop by for the details. I found a really cute dress pattern and my heart was so excited as I drove over to her shop. I was scared as I parked in front, trying to get the courage to go in. I wanted a dress so bad I finally entered and was greeted by a middle aged woman whom acted very professional.
After showing her the pattern and approximate kind of fabric to use, she gave me a price of over $500. plus overtime for having to give me fittings after hours. I not only couldn't afford that but I knew I was being ripped off because of the unusual situation. I canceled the order and left. As I drove home, my heart felt heavy with disappointment because I had really started counting on my dream outfit.
A few days later, I could stand it no more as I called another woman and asked her the same request. She was a preacher's wife and yet didn't seem upset by my order. I told her how nervous I was and she said, "Don't be silly. It's not like I'm going to look up your skirt. Besides, it is just a job like any other to me." She then went on and gave me an approximate price over the phone and added she wasn't going to do me wrong.
That she was charging the same as any of her female customers. I was again ecstatic with joy as my mind filled with images of my twirling around in my confection. The pattern I bought wasn't good enough now as Easter was almost here and the stores were filled with much prettier frilly designs. I found one I couldn't resist. It was all pink chiffon and drenched in lace and ribbon trim. It was the ultimate party style little girl's dress.
I bought the largest size they had, a size 6 I think, and I took it to the seamstress. She seemed as excited as I was as she studied how it was made. I think she was finding some novel pleasure in making a sissy dress for a grown man. Anyway, I went back for a couple of fittings and brought a full petticoat so the dress would hang right over it. My first time out of the dressing room was full of adrenaline as I stood not only in front of her but two of her helpers as well.
Everyone was so nice as they seemed so accepting. It felt both strange and wonderful as I stood there having my hem pinned up. Had I finally found the happiness I'd looked for all my life?, I asked myself. My head was spinning with delight when she stopped me from going to return to my own clothes. "Come sit down and talk for awhile.", she offered. It was like a dream world as we talked about dresses and mostly girl things. She actually treated me as if I was a little girl instead of a woman. I never felt so at peace and so calm as though this really and truly was who I should have been.
That dress is still my favorite to this day. A few months later, I talked my wife into letting me wear it for a Halloween party at my sons house. He knew about my 'hobby' for several years now and had accepted it surprisingly well. The day of the party, I dressed up early, complete with makeup and wig and even Mary Jane shoes. I went out on the town for the whole day by myself and went into stores to by a little purse and some jewelry. I remember at Walmart's, just as I got into line to check out with my purse, there was a couple of women in front of me. When one turned around and saw me, she took a double take and burst into laughter.
Before I knew it, all the checkouts were laughing and I didn't know how to act. I didn't expect it and so all I knew to do was curtsy. When I left the store, I felt a bit dizzy but pleased no one got angry or mean. I was on a roll now as I felt so accepted and free. I went everywhere and even went to a Chinese restaurant to eat. The waiter asked me where I found shoes to fit. I just said in my toy box and we both laughed.
That evening at the party, I was somewhat of a different mind. I found myself feeling awkward and not knowing how to act like a little girl. Though I felt like one inside, I didn't feel right on the outside. Kind of strange I thought but I did my best anyway. My sister-in-laws were there and they didn't know about my secret so they took it as just a costume but were surprised at how detailed I was dressed. I had some pictures taken and began to really get into the fun. By the time I got back home I was ready to have my own clothes back though. I was surprised at that as I thought I'd never want to give up a moment of being in a dress. I tried to understand what I was feeling but I couldn't sort it out.
It was several weeks before I gave thought to my dressing again. I had started to think I had gotten it out of my system but it returned as strong as ever. I loved being on both sides of the fence so to speak. Over the next ten years, I gathered several more custom made dresses and everything else a little girl could wear. I had collected over thirty petticoats in every color, square dance dresses and skirt sets. I even went to the regional Mary Kay representative at her house and had her teach me how to apply makeup. That was a real experience and I'll remember it forever. I bought a few wigs and several shoes and perfume and jewelry. Like I said everything even down to ruffled socks and slips, camisoles, etc. My dream closet had more clothes than my wife and my regular closet combined. This was a true obsession and as addictive as the strongest drugs.
I had several more Halloweens as a little girl and even a fifties poodle outfit complete with cat's eye glasses and saddle shoes. I was now living two identities. And yet, there were times when I still didn't feel complete. Times when I missed the days of happiness with my wife when we first got married and held each other close. I could feel a tear start to roll down my cheek as I quickly pushed thoughts from my mind and focused on something else.
A few times, I tried to talk to her about my feelings but I couldn't quite get them out like I use to and she never seemed to care anyway. She would say she was happy and didn't miss us sleeping together. She said she felt she loved me very much and was happy just having a hug once in awhile. That didn't sound like the girl who couldn't resist every other man she had come across. I hardened back up and went back into another room. Every time I tried to lower the wall I had built between us, I was reminded of why it was there. Still, we did seem closer than ever before in every other way. I guess that was the best part of what love has to offer anyway. At least that's what I keep telling myself. But I do still miss holding her close while going to sleep sometimes. My little animals are soft but they don't really give back.
So here I am, sometimes coolly content with things and yet sometimes feeling overwhelmed by lonely isolation as I lay in bed at night. All I have for comfort is to wrap my arms about me and feel the soft fabric while imagining my wife beside me. Sometimes I reflect back over my life and I realize I'm still where I was as a little boy back in that boarding house. I use to lay there at night and wish I had some warmth and love to fill my loneliness then too.
When a tear falls I stiffen up and go numb but that doesn't solve anything either. I must be strong, I tell myself. I must not allow myself to feel so deeply as it only brings pain and nothing ever changes. I try to be grateful for what I have as I reach over and pull my bunny rabbit close to me and kiss her on the cheek. "I love you for being here for me.", I whisper as I close my eyes and go to sleep.
THE END?
WRITTEN BY: Cindy Marie