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post-midnight boredom
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post-midnight boredom Last night I got dressed up and went for a bike ride. Put on all my makeup for the first time in a few months, put on my new favorite pair of panties, and grabbed my bra. I hadn't shaved my legs or upper body in a while, so to hide any hair, I wore some thigh-high<b> fishnets </font></b>with a garter and a plain black dress with short sleeves. Over the dress I put on a black skirt with pink stripes and a geisha-like top. It sounds like a weird match (especially with the two skirts), but it looked pretty good actually. It seemed impractical to bike in a skirt, but I had seen girls doing it around town and I thought it might be fun. I had my wallet, spare makeup, cell phone, and bike lock key in my purse. I had a drink, but it was only one so it really had no effects on me. I peered out my backdoor, looking for any animals or neighbors who may be up for some reason at 3 in the morning. The coast was clear. I walked to the bike, but as I was about to sit down, I felt the handlebars were wet, so I came back inside to get a towel. I wiped the seat and handlebars off, and rode down the street. Nobody was out, and nobody was driving. I was coming up to hit a main road, but before I got there I turned right because I knew the next square mile had a lot of parks and a golf course in it, making passing through difficult. Instead I reached the other main road to the right, the main road on which my old church resides. And as I passed it, I thought of all the great times I had there. It hosted my boy scout troop while I was enrolled in that program. It supported the higher institutions which were the reasons for my departure. I rode on and didn't look back. Never. I passed through the next few blocks which I was never very familiar with. they were very dark, and I worried I'd meet a passing skunk and startle it. I nearly hit an animal on a dark sidewalk a few weeks ago. I don't know what it was. Crossed the next street. Came on to one of the posh expensive streets of my town. I knew a few people lived on the street with whom I went to high school. I was afraid they'd see me, then I was hoping they would. Once I passed the houses on that street, I ended up running into the old high school. For most of my time there, I was scared. When a crossdresser has gym class and has to change in a communal area, he doesn't have many options. He has to dress as everyone else does from head to toe. I had more freedom of dress in elementary school. You couldn't escape seeing someone wearing a football jersey. I didn't want to hang around there. Police probably patrol that area extra tightly. I crossed down to more residential streets. Once I got to the next road, I had nowhere to go, so I had to follow the road for a while. going right would mean hitting the high school again, so I turned left. As soon as I could, I ended up going back into what seemed to be the relative safety of the side street. Wondering my purpose of the ride, I started considering either going through downtown, which was still a mile or two away, or turning back to my house. There weren't really any other options, as nobody who knows my secret lives around here, and even if they did, they were all out of town. In my taste for adventure, I kept heading downtown. I wanted to get past a main road so I could come up through the darker but still visible side street I used to take to get downtown during rush hour... But as I crossed the main road and turned onto another affluent boulevard, I saw someone pulling out of his driveway. I don't know what happened, but I flipped a little. I couldn't stop watching as I rode by, then when I realized how obviously I was starting at him, I turned away and started pedaling hard. I pedaled so hard both skirts I was wearing started hiking up and exposing my garter. Luckily, by this time he was behind me, but he could've seen my back side, or at least a lot of thigh. I raced down a hill to a poorly lit intersection and turned, but he had turned around and was starting in my direction. I shot to the next road and went back to the main road. When I got there, I quickly crossed and entered a new neighborhood. I had to decide then whether to go downtown or to keep in the direction I was heading and go home. Considering the alcohol in my body and large police presence downtown, I decided that downtown could wait for another weekend. Coming back, I tried to regain my composure. I pulled the bottom skirt between my legs so they acted as shorts, and then continued. I took a main road back because it was angled towards where I wanted to go and because I wanted to go by a friend's house in one last voyeuristic high of the night. Upon crossing the last main road I had to cross, I had to wait for my turn to go because a car going perpendicular was about to get a green light. There were a few bright lights at the corner; I was very visible. As they passed, the man driving and the woman in passenger were staring at me, astonished. I suppose I can't blame them: either they saw me as a crossdresser biking around at three with a lot of leg showing, or they saw me as a goth girl biking around at three with a lot of leg showing. Both are odd sights. Almost home, I passed by the church again. I used to work for the boy scouts. I did the typical stuff workers did: merit badges, stupid activities, pretending to be enthused. One day when I was away, the adult assigned to looking through staff members' tents when those members weren't around found some of my panties in my tent. I came back to three of the hierarchically-dominant men staring at me in their matching mirrored aviators, black and tan uniforms, and steel crosses over their hearts, hiding that which has become so corrupted. They accused me of having developmental problems. And they told me that I had to, of all things, cut my hair in order to conform to my 'working conditions'. It was at that point when I walked away from most of my friends and acquaintances. It left me an unstable wreck for nearly a year of my life. I don't wonder why people say 'fascism will come back bearing a cross'. Riding by my friend's house, his car was gone, so he was probably at his mom's house across town. His dad's was gone, too, so he was probably with his girlfriend. I pulled back into my back yard. I grabbed my towel that I left on the fence and headed downstairs. I took off my geisha shirt and skirt. In the air conditioned room, I felt the cool run down my back; I had definitely sweated a little. I took off the dress and hung it so it would dry, then took off my bra, which was really wet near the hooks, in replacement for a cami. I wished I didn't have to wash it again before leaving for school, but it looks like I'll have to have one more ladies wash. Sometimes I wonder why I go out on these rides, with the clear conflict between wanting to be seen and wanting to hide. What do I expect to find out there? Sometimes I doubt I'll find anything new, but I'm sure I'll keep going. I can certainly say that I don't know how girls ride bikes with skirts on; perhaps the girl bikes make it easier to ride that way. Who knows. |
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8/2/2008 6:12 pm |
I was passing by and saw you, read your post. Its very interesting; i could almost "see" the images you described. Polimnia Sedúceme con tu inteligencia...
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