Being a student, I run into the same problem over and over again: there always seems to be some month left at the end of my money. To keep my expenses at bay, I decided to move into the cheapest student house I could find, whilst avoiding the houses that made me wonder whether or not the rent included a monthly tetanus-shot. Surprisingly, it didn’t take long at all to end up with the house I’m currently still living in: an incredibly small former dockworkers house, built in the early 1900’s, which I share with four other, female, students.
Sharing a tiny house with 4 others, means living space isn’t in abundance and since I am the newest member of our dysfunctional little household, I have to make do with the smallest room. Along with one other housemate, the shower, the washing machine and the dryer that seems determined to waggle down the stairs every time it is turned on, I reside on the top floor.
A couple of months ago, my housemate and I made a pretty neat arrangement: I would convert the wall and approximately 1 sqm of space just outside her room, which technically belongs to her room, into a drying rack and in return for the effort I’d have to put into that, I could use the drying rack as well. A visit to a local thrift store that sells building materials, a trip to IKEA and a couple of hours of handiwork later, the drying rack was completed.
When using the drying rack for the first time, I realised I didn’t consider one thing before constructing it: all of my female housemates’ clothes were now hanging a few feet from my door and every time I entered and left my room, I would see them hanging there.
Whilst in the process of going from fascinating about breasts and womens’ clothes to actually wearing womens’ clothing – which took place about 8 years ago -, I couldn’t live with the idea of myself sneakily searching my mothers’ or my younger sisters’ closets for clothes to wear. I despised the idea of violating their privacy and felt uncomfortable even looking at them when they were hanging out to dry. This meant that all the clothes I ever wore, even up till today, are clothes I have bought myself. As a result of this, I’ve never been able to experiment with different styles and items of clothing in the way I would like to, which is why, on the crossdressing front, there are a lot of questions remaining to be answered.
Now, almost a decade after I started wearing female clothing, I unintentionally created a situation in which I am subjected to female clothing on a day-to-day basis. Not a day goes by without me laying eyes on a semi-transparent top of which I wonder what style of pants or skirt would go best with it, a sports bra of which I wonder if it is anywhere near my size, a pair of heels which I like a lot more than the ones I own or a cute dress that is totally my style. The fact that all of these clothes are just hanging there, a couple of feet from my door, causes an almost insurmountable urge to start experimenting with them. This urge becomes even larger when I know I’ll be the only one home for the next couple of hours.
Even though I’m ok with me being a crossdresser, I truly hate myself for having these urges. I hate being a guy who would love wearing his female housemates’ clothes. I hate the fact I wonder how they’ll look on me and I hate the fact I even pay attention to them at all. Unfortunately, there doesn’t seem to be anything that can make these urges go away, which is why I’ll have to learn to live with them. There’s no way I’ll ever allow myself to experiment with any of my housemates’ clothes, but, to make dealing with these urges a bit more liveable, I started to allow myself to use the clothes I see for inspiration. If I see a top I like, I pay attention to what sort and style of clothes my housemate uses to create an outfit in which the top looks nice, after which I start browsing the internet in search of the cheapest way to get hold of a similar outfit.
To be completely honest though, I also hate the fact I’m doing that. It still feels like I’m violating her privacy and I can’t stand that.