Erotic adaptiveness and limitation
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As I said yesterday I've been talking to a friend who wear dresses, adapting almost helplessly, probably only transitorily to her sexuality.
The adaptation has oddly compacted my erotic self. Right now I'm almost unable to think sexually outside the spectrum of males who wear dresses.
I've never been a transvestite admirer or tranny chaser. My mentions of transgendered people are mostly prompted by email exchanges with transvestites and transsexuals. Some I've known for a few years, others have written to me about something in the weblog.
I'm not even sure what a fantasy about a crossdresser qua crossdresser would be. I like the image of a guy wearing those women's slacks that cut off above the ankle. But that isn't sex.
Almost every image of a crossdresser that I have is of someone I know however dimly. You don't violent friends or even kind acquaintances with your imagination.
So I'm not having the lively fantasy life you might expect of a celibate man.
This phase will pass. I'll confess I find it a little irksome but inescapably funny.