It was a little tight on my upper legs. I did haveenough room for my legs in them. They just constricted my movement, Icould not take my normal stride...in it. The wig went on, and then thebodice. I finally looked in the mirror and, I hate to say it, I didnot look bad.I did not look bad, but it felt odd also. I looked so foreign tomyself. I felt different about myself,more concerned about how theclothes made me feel instead of if they fit, clean and appropriate.They say the clothes make a man. I. Etc. it turns out that he was single as well as I was. But I don’t date because to me relationships always turn out to be about sex. Wrong guys always chase me anyway. But as we talked he told me about how his past gf’s left him hanging a lot. I remember a lot from this time because it was special. It was funny also because I jumped right into asking him about his sex life.“So hows your sex life?” I asked.“it could be better.” he said.“how much better do you mean?” I asked in a questionable. More

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