Yes, I was vain, I confess. Plead guilty, your honor. A young man (I'll call him Simba, "lion" in Swahili) sent a note asking for my email address because he had been caught up by my red vinyl catsuit and stiletto-heeled black patent boots. I was flattered. That's what my attire was made for, and I thought there was nothing wrong in responding to that call and do some "virtual flirting" by e-mail with that guy... assuming he/she/whoever would be able to manage the situation as a grown-up person without hurting anyone (himself, me, or somebody else). I would soon know how way off the mark that assumption was...
Throughout that written relationship I never knew exactly whether Simba was simply a young man who wanted some sexy talk with an exotic crossdresser, or else a candidate for crossdressing who needed to explore his feminine Self with the help of someone more experienced,... or both. So I gave him a bit of everything, a balanced mixture of spicy material (my favorite underwear, seduction and provocation techniques, etc.) and a few lessons taught by an "elder sister". But let me put this straight: although I did get some kicks out of this, I didn't do it just for the fun of it. I honestly thought there was someone at the other end of the line that actually needed some kind of help, comfort, company, advice,... any of these or all at once. When I was younger, I "climbed" all the way up to Olga on my own, and God knows it was hard and hazardous. I was on the verge of suicide several times, I needed to take a psychoanalyst for two years... Having had SOMEONE to turn to, a more experienced crossdresser with whom to discuss as many sexual/gender matters as possible, would have spared me a good deal of suffering. That is why I now tend to act as that elder sister who tries to help her younger siblings out of their confusions, fears, etc. Does it sound pretentious? Maybe I am, but that is the way I feel.
However, Simba was not alone in this world. One morning I logged into my email account and found this (word by word, only personal references taken out):
So you are the person who is taking my Simba away from me. He told me about you. Why Why. I've been with him for almost 5 years and this is how its going to end. I know some day you will meet him and I hope you can give him what he is looking for. Lord knows I can't. I love him so much and I know its not you fault. I know this is what he wants. Yes it is ripping my heart apart and I know now I am losing him. He claim that he still love me but I know that he will never be happy until he full fills his dreams and pleasures. Please help him with all that he wants and guide him in the right direction. I must go now. I can't see the computer for the tears. I lost him.
When I read that message it occurred to me it was all a joke, the situation was so absurd. After reading it over and over I realized everything was serious, I was not dreaming, and I couldn't help crying. There was no way for me to know that Simba had a girlfriend, but perhaps I let his fantasy go so far and so fast that he dropped his girl on the way. I felt horrible, somewhat guilty, very confused, and yes, a bit stupid, too.
I was touched by the girl's courage in addressing me directly, ever so sweetly, so it would have been sheer cowardice not to answer. But what was my attitude to be? On the one hand, I could see her point: Simba and I had been "flirting" by email, as described above, and maybe that was too much for her to take in a single spoonful. On the other hand, I wasn't willing to take *all* the responsibility. After all there had been nothing but email!! So, I wrote my message with a mixture of tenderness and slightly bossy advice, very motherly in a sense. It took me a whole afternoon to write it, but it was worth every byte... Fortunately, it worked. The following are a few excerpts from that response.
Dear "Simba's Girlfriend", ... Please excuse me if I don't address you properly. I don't know what your name is.
I guess it is no use telling you I am sorry, devastated and feel awfully guilty. And you're right. My feelings are of no importance here, serves me right and that stuff. However, ...please believe this reply is very difficult for me and that I am writing this for the sole purpose of helping you. I know exactly how you're feeling.
Ten years ago, when I was about your age (22 or so, I reckon?), my girlfriend met an American guy, a high executive of the company... He met my girlfriend at work, they got on well together...Craig S...... (I still remember his name!) was a great fellow: handsome, extremely attractive, excellent education (Ivy-League type), impeccable manners, witty rather than funny, and... very well situated in the firm. I mean, I was no match to him, I was just a student then... they even spent 3 weeks traveling together through Europe, all of which was fine with me, I was (and still am) very tolerant about my spouse dating other men (or women, for all that matters). In the middle of that trip, she sent me a postcard saying she was in love with Craig and so was not coming back with me. I wanted to die.
When she returned from that trip, we talked, I begged her, cried, knelt down in a public place to ask her not to leave me. Then she thought about it overnight and finally concluded that the cultural gap, age gap (Craig was 15 years older), and other gaps were too big for just leaping to the US and leave everything behind. After that, our relationship kept on for 4 more years.
At that time, Olga did not exist yet. But now, looking back, I can see the "heartbreak process" can take place at any point in life, can happen to anybody, with or without some "Olga" messing around, that it is nobody's fault, and that any difficult situation can be solved if we pluck up enough courage to face it like grown-up people. So, please, wipe off your tears now, and listen.
Look here, honey, and take this down: I HAVE NOT TAKEN Simba FROM YOU. First, because he is not "with" me, even though he might *fantasize* about me, which -by the way- he has a perfect right to do. ...Second, because your story with Simba has not come to an end, this I can tell. Providing you play your cards right, that is.
He loves you, he told you so, why don't you believe him? He was brave enough to tell you about me, so he is a square guy, isn't he? As for his "dreams and pleasures", as you call them, don't you think you have something to say about that? Don't you have dreams too? Wouldn't you like to tell Simba about them and try to make them true together? Why don't you try to follow him into his dreams, explore them together? ...To be very frank, I am not even sure Simba himself knows what he is looking for. In my view, he seems to need a good deal of fantasy, explore his feminine potential, have a little sexy talk with someone new, liberal, uninhibited, tolerant and unusual... You could find out that far better than myself. What do you say?
You know, maybe I can help you to get at Simba's real self. If he is actually a CrossDresser (which is a possibility, let's face it), then he needs all the help he can get. ...I know you love him, you proved it by plucking up the courage to write me a message. Your eyes were bleeding, your fingertips quivered and ached, you could hardly breathe,... I could see all that in your message. And you are sweet enough to mention it is not my fault. My Goodness, Simba is a lucky man so long he's got you! There is no best person to guide him in the right direction but you. I mean that. I can help you, if you wish me to. But there's no "ripping your heart apart" business! Here's hope, here's my hand to help, and my shoulder to cry on, if you need it. I know this is a hard life, but it's worth the try.
...No more crying now. You're a big girl, and must bring yourself together. You have not lost anything, you have won a friend (me) and Simba is still where he used to, maybe a little confused in his head, but still there. I don't know what he's going to do about you, that is something out of my control range, but you can go for him, what can you lose? Your pride? Is that what all the fuss is about? I hope it isn't,... or is it?
I hope you are feeling a little better now. You know where to find me. Just give me a whistle!
Kisses,
Olga.
God was I relieved when I got the reply! She thanked me for my advice, said she was sorting the whole thing out with Simba,... very sorry to involve me in her domestic shortcomings,... enjoyed talking to me... Phew! Saved by the bell! Maybe I overvalued the distress of that first message of hers, but I now know I did the right thing. And my slight feeling of guilt had faded away.
No, I won't preach as a conclusion, and I don't think I would accept any moralizing lesson from anybody. Chiefly because I am convinced I would do it again if I found myself in a similar situation. Honestly, I don't think I made any serious mistake or behaved frivolously with regard to any significant matter at stake. I will therefore leave the assessment of this story to the readers' good sense and discernment. Maybe they can help me understand what happened EXACTLY in this mysterious triangle formed by Olga, Simba, and his girlfriend?