|Blogs > rm_onceat41 > "Living the Life I was Given"|
I attempted to post these thoughts earlier before the telling my life's story. But the post never appeared so I'm editing it and trying again.
“What’s in a Name?”
Ever wonder about the handles people use on these sites? Most all of the handles have some relationship to the person using them. Like custom license plates, some are easy to figure out, others may take some time, and others would never make any sense. With those thoughts in mind I thought I would explain my “onceat41” handle and the name I’ll use when dressed.
Many years ago while in my early teens (before the days of Gay), I participated in a number of homosexual relationships(ok a lot). In the beginning these were not so voluntary, but for several years afterwards I was an active and eager participant(translate that to sissy slut). Then when I left high school and went into the Navy, that was it, finished. I put all the gay stuff behind me, buried it, and went on with a normal life. Then years later when I was (you guessed it) 41, I met someone that awakened my sleeping desires. Sometime later a wild weekend occured which only spurred on this need to once again walk on the wild side. And that is how I came up with my handle, which seemed like a good idea at the time.
A little more detail on my early days might help for this next part on names. In those early days there were many occasions where I was made to wear stockings, panties, dresses, makeup, and usually a wig. My brother and his friend called me Michelle and did what they wanted with a little sissy brother. Inside I would rage at being called Michelle, but there was nothing to be done about it (details in some of the previous posts). Jump to the present and my voluntary reintroduction to cross dressing. When I started talking with another cross dresser I automatically used Michelle as my name (ok, so you guessed my name is Mike). But the name Michelle was associated with many unpleasant memories so I decided on a change. I mean what would happen if someone in a coffee shop or pub overheard me introduce myself as Michelle, or Sally, or Emma? Or how about if I’m talking on the phone at a not so convenient moment? I remember a TV show when I was young with the most beautiful and exciting lady and thought if I had my choice I would be like her. The character was Emma Peel on the “Avengers”. Many pleasant fantasy’s revolved around being with Emma, or being her. So now when I’m dressed I call myself “-M”. Nothing to do with James Bond, or the white rapper, just a version of the dear Emma Peel. And that is the end of that.