Overwhelming visual stimuli for a habitual crossdresser

Yesterday evening, I accompanied my wife to an event. It is not unusual that she is invited to certain societal events in Frankfurt, due to the nature of her work and the position she has. And I go along whenever I can (in drab of course), sort of as the pretty accompaniment that you often see alongside successful corporate managers. What’s in it for me? It tends to be an interesting mix of good food, good drinks, and some culture, sometimes a good conversation with an interesting individual.

But the event yesterday, described as a “marketing platform and meeting place for opinion makers” was very tough on me. Out of the, say, 300 participants (about 50:50 men and women) 80% of the men wore dark suits, to which most of those below 50 years of age wore white sneakers, and the others – such as me – wore dark business shoes. Amongst the female participants, 80% (including my wife) wore the cutest of cocktail dresses and high heels, strutting and flaunting about the room, to the extent that I had to close my eyes, not to fall into a state of trance or to come across as a creepy old man, who had lost control over his stares.

I had a sleepless night, envisioning myself in all of these ultra-feminine outfits. And I cannot wait for the next event.