Previously I stopped just when we were getting to the good stuff. Up to this point it has all been pretty straight forward, other than the wanting to wear women's clothing part.

So lets pick up the story where I left off. My first marriage ended. I was single again, and as you might expect I had the opportunity to dress more... But I didn't. I seemed that my time single coincided with one of those periods in my life when I didn't have a desire to dress. Up to this point in my life, my dressing was confined to pantyhose, so it wasn't a big thing to not dress.

So we are now going to fast forward a few years now, I'm now married to a wonderful woman I met on the internet. Yes, internet relationships can last, we're going on 10 years of marriage :) But I digress... So how did Bobbie come into being... Well, it was little by little. I started trying on more of my wife's clothes. Boring, I know, this isn't Bobbie yet, it took about a year to get there. Now this was not an intentional, no plan on my part. It was a slow progression to the point where I could no longer hide it.

I know you are thinking that I was hiding my dressing from my wife, well, yes I was, but more to the point I was hiding it from myself. I didn't want to admit it to myself that I had this need. It went against everything I knew to be true. Men don't wear women's clothing, unless it's for comedic effect (Think "Some Like it Hot" and "Mrs. Doubtfire" and "Bosom Buddies") and it wasn't funny to me, it was a need. A need that grew over time. I reached a point where it could not longer be hidden; now I'm not noble enough to have admitted what was going on to my wife, she found out by finding pictures I had taken of myself. Presented with the evidence there really was no reason to deny it, it also meant that I had to admit it to myself.

This is really when my voyage began...