RANSVESTIA

Orion and years later could remember some of the names of stars and constellations. We had what I thought was a happy family. I had changed employers and gotten into a commercial laboratory. After a time he got in trouble with the IRS and had to let everyone go. So I decided to go into business for myself manufacturing several products. So we moved across town and got a new house in Westwood and tried to build up the business.

One week I had to go to San Francisco on business arriving there Sunday afternoon. I called up my now friend Mr. Morris who had presented the psychometric information at the psychiatric confer- ences I have mentioned previously. He invited me to come out to his apartment. I had brought my femmeclothes along in a suitcase and he had directed me to a hotel where the night clerk was a gay friend of his so I got dressed in the hotel and went out to his apartment. It turned out that his girlfriend—a woman of about 40—was there with him. He was dressed at the time but after a bit he informed us that he had to get undressed and go to some meeting and he suggested that Betty (the girlfriend) and I go downtown window shopping for the evening. This we proceeded to do. We walked around the principal shopping area looking at all the women's wear windows and exclaim- ing over this hat and that pair of shoes and wouldn't I like that dress, etc. After that we went up to the Top of the Mark—a lounge on top of one of the tall hotels in San Francisco and had a drink. We had some fun with a couple of lonely Marines who tried to pick us up and then it was time to go home. So I took her back to the apartment and said goodbye and caught a cab back downtown to my hotel.

As I started to get undressed I also started to cry but not for any reason that I could think of. I got into bed and cried and cried, just racking sobs. It was very strange that I was crying my heart out and yet I didn't know why. It was about 4 a.m. before I dosed off into a fitful sleep. The next day as I travelled around town calling on prospects I carried a paperback with me to read on the buses and street cars because I found that as soon as my attention was not involved with customers or the book I began to get misty eyed again and would have broken out crying again if I didn't distract myself. And after all, 35-year-old men didn't just go about the streets crying.

I finally got through the day's work and got down to the station and aboard the night train to Los Angeles but I couldn't sleep. I read, I tossed, I read some more. Finally about 3 a.m. I put on my robe and

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