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Seeking Professional Help

March 11, 2012

While I was in college, I went to talk to a college professor about my crossdressing. At that point, I mostly considered it to be a fetish for pantyhose and a sexual craving to gratify myself.  I visited a psychology professor’s office.  They had an open door policy for students to drop in and discuss personal matters.  I visited a male professor’s office.  He invited me in and we closed the door.  He sat at his desk and I sat across his desk in an office chair.  Basically, I told him that I struggled with the temptation to gratify myself while wearing pantyhose.

After I told him my story, he started asking questions.  Now, in retrospect, I believe he was trying to determine whether I had a fetish or not.  He asked me questions like, “Do you like to smell them?”  I responded that I would smell a new pair.  I didn’t know that he meant “Do you smell the scent a woman might leave in her hose?”  The answer to that was, “No.”  I think he got that answer from my innocent response.  His ultimate advice to me was, “Don’t worry about the masturbation.  Find another way to do it without the pantyhose.”  That was the only conversation that I ever had with him about that.

There was another time that I wrote a letter off to someone who counsels teenagers.  Actually, this might have occurred during before my visit with the professor.  I’m not sure.  I wrote this counselor and told him everything.  He wrote me back and said that I should talk to someone in person.  He said I might have a sexual addiction.  This letter arrived at my parents house.  Guess what?  Mom opened it.  She sent it to me with an accompanying letter apologizing for reading my mail.  She had no idea it would be something so personal.  (He did not say anything about crossdressing.)  Mom offered to pay for any counseling that I might need.

Now, I am sure that this really worried her.  Then, I was embarrassed to have been somewhat exposed.  She was far away and life was going full-steam.  I really forgot about this.  In fact, I forgot that mom read this letter until I started writing about it.  I hope she has not worried about me all of these years!  Maybe I SHOULD talk to her.  I never went to counseling.  She never mentioned it again.

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From → True Stories

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