The last, only time I tried wearing a skirt in my life was 3 years ago. My friend (also male) had dressed as a french maid for Halloween, and he was onto bigger and better things that next year, like dressing as a bunny girl. I kid you not, this was his exact getup.

So without much thought, I started stripping. I squeezed myself into the costume, and glanced at the mirror. I had never imagined myself in women’s clothes, so I was really confused and disgusted. And all the while, the skirt had so much more airflow than I was used to with pants, so I felt like I was naked. I had to keep looking down to make sure that I was actually wearing something. I took everything off, and decided I would instead be Pepe the frog that year.

So when I say I want to become a shoujo heroine, I don’t mean that I want to become a male crossdresser. I mean that I want the full experience. I want to wake up late, run to school with a piece of toast in my mouth, still look kawaii, and get courted by twenty different guys of all different flavors, like you’re at Baskin Robbins or something. I’ll eventually realize that my day 1 childhood friend is actually better than all these posers, and start dating him, but until then, I’ll take my sweet time being indecisive because I have twenty-seven guys falling head over heels for me, asking me for feet pics.

The shoujo heroine experience is not even an accurate depiction of womanhood. It is an artisanally crafted serotonin cocktail intended to capture the fantasy of Japanese schoolgirls, developed through years of deep research into the Japanese female psyche. It packages the sugar rush excitement of new beginnings, intrigue, and the feeling of being desired into neat, rectangular manga panels, windows that offer insight into a life few, if any, ever experience. It lets Japanese schoolgirls escape the reality that most boys their age are trying to develop a Stand, or become a pirate in search of the One Piece.

As an avid reality-escaper myself, I’m always curious about what it feels like to live as another person. I want to know what it feels like to not have a dick, and have ovaries instead. I want to know what it feels like when someone thinks I’m hot and makes moves on me. What does it feel like to get rescued by a Princeu Charmingu? What does it feel like to get all dressed and dolled up for a festival date with a hot guy with yummy washboard abs that you frequently catch yourself salivating over, hoping that he’ll confess to you that day? What does it feel to get kissed while the fireworks burst at the festival? Does your brain light up with exploding dopamine fireworks of their own?

These are all important questions I need answered. I don’t have a closet full of skirts for crossdressing, I don’t have a boyfriend, and I’m not preparing a Thailand trip to become a femboy. Although if a girl gave me access to her makeup closet, I would try putting some shit on, just for the fun of it. I’m a curious guy, what can I say? If I could live a thousand lives, I would. Unfortunately, I only get one, and injecting myself into someone else’s within the realm of fiction is all I get.

#professionalcrossdresser #shoujoheroine