Another one bites the dust...

 I certainly enjoyed the unitard while it lasted.  The crotch seam began to separate, but because it was a standard seam and not a flat one, it was fairly easy to repair.  I kept it going for about a year... until, another disappointment on the dating scene caused me to revisit the cause and take the blame out on the unitard.

The resurrection

[A year passed without a unitard or tights.  I eventually broke up with the girl I was dating, as I took a new job on the other coast and she was so rooted in her place that it just made sense to part ways.  She was really special... But she was my first love and I felt like I needed to explore relationships more.  In hindsight, she would've been a great choice.  I don't know who she settled with, but whoever he is, he's one hell of a lucky guy.]

Now I'm living in California.  Oakland isn't the most glamorous Bay Area city, by far, but it's very close to San Francisco.  It was great to finally get out to this part of the country.  I like it so much, I don't think I'll ever go back East.

Well, in getting used to my surroundings and making new friends, I figured that dating would be easier.  People in California are more easy going.  And with San Francisco having such a strong gay community, that means so many more available women!

[A few months go by...]

In time, all things must pass

The unitard gave me a lot of satisfaction for about a year, until I started dating a girl regularly and we slept together for my first time.  I was so nervous and worried about performing that it ensured I wouldn't.  So crazy how I was so excited all the way up until the moment.  It was as if I didn't want it, while I did want it so very much.  She was understanding.  It wasn't her first time, but she was compassionate and patient.  And on the next try, it finally happened.  I was no longer a virgin... at 23.  Yeah, no doubt it was beyond the average at that time, and today it would almost be laughable.  Well, thankfully I wasn't the 40 year old virgin!

Once I made that breakthrough, the whole idea of wearing tights and unitards seemed so juvenile.  A time that would now be over.  I had moved to the next level.  Now, what to do about my unitard.  I had thought about keeping it as something to use for a future costume.  But then, I also had this nagging feeling about how I shouldn't ever wear it again.  Doing so might entice the fetish, and drag me back to where I felt I'd already moved on.  And so...

Making a comeback, above the waist

[I went through the rest of my college years without any further tights experiences.  Just that one I mentioned.  And then there came the transition point between college and first job.  I was living back at home and filling out job applications.  It was slow going, so I took a simple job for the summer at a local hardware store.]

* * * * * * * 

I was home one night having dinner with my folks while watching TV (something we didn't do very often).  There was some kind of special show on with elaborate dance numbers.  All kinds of amazingly fit dancers in skintight outfits were leaping about the stage with lights, smoke and pyrotechnics going off here and there.  And then, I saw it.  Something subtle but it caught my eye.

(red unitard bit from Big Brother)

Over the years I'd seen plenty of shows with dancers donning tights and leotards in all kinds of patterns and colors.  Yet in this show I immediately noticed something different.  There was no seam for the leg opening of the leotard!  The girls were wearing some kind of leotard with legs seamlessly attached to it.  It sure looked like it to me--a complete tights and leotard all-in-one suit.  Wow, did that look cool!  And it seriously prodded my interest.  I had to find out what this was and if I could buy one for myself.

I took the dishes and silverware down to the kitchen and cleaned up.  Before going back upstairs I opened the phone book and jumped to DANCE WEAR.  Sure enough there were several listings in the yellow pages and some with big ads taken out. * Tights, * Leotards, * Unitards.  Unitards?  That must be it!  She was wearing a unitard.  I'd never heard of this before.

Crazy twisted daring

[Remember "Wayne's World", when they swept their hands up and down, fingers wiggling, saying "doodle-a-doo, doodle-a-doo,  doodle-a-doo"?  Well, do that for a bit as we fast forward a few years...]

I'm 19.  It has been a long time since I've written in my tights journal.  Well, I'm not really "writing"; it's kind of my own mental note about this that I might write down one day [and here we are.]  I'm in college and living in a co-ed dorm situation.  It's terrific!  There are all kinds of kids from various walks of life.  There are a few cute girls on my floor too.  We share the same bathroom.  It's weird, but kind of good in that everyone is mostly conscious about not making a mess and leaving it for others to deal with.


Well, it was a crazy Friday night.  School is tough and when the weekend comes, people blow off steam big time.  I live in a very tall dormitory building that has two elevators.  Kind of like an office building.  But inside, it's "good old fashioned" sturdy concrete cinder-blocks everywhere, coated in thick enamel paint.  Just like being in prison, or so I've heard.  ;-)

Not only do we share a bathroom, we also share a laundry room.  We have a decent number of washers, but only two driers.  It sucks, because washers are fast and dryers take a long time.  So, some girls let their stuff hang to dry on a few clothing lines set up in the room.  This Friday night I came back a bit late from a party.  It was like 2am in the morning.  As I made my way down the corridor to my room, I went past the laundry room.  Out of the corner of my eye, I spied them.  Something hanging on one of the clothing lines.  Two long and thin stretches of material hanging.  Tights.  Deep burgundy colored tights.  Nobody was around.  Not a peep.

Mustering up the nerve

[After I destroyed the black tights, I was firm about keeping my fetish suppressed.  I was convinced that suppressing it would cause it to wither, like a plant without water.  Every once in a while, I'd see an attractive girl wearing a very sexy pair of tights (usually black, sometimes red), and I wouldn't be able to help myself liking the look.  But I was determined not to let the fetish get the best of me.]

* * * * * * * *

It's been a while since I wrote in this.  I didn't date the last entry, so I'm not sure.  Could be a couple of years.  Well, the last thing I'd done was to destroy the black tights.  I was really good about keeping tights out of my mind.  I still haven't had a steady girl friend.  I've dated a little, but no sparks.  One girl was into me, but she wasn't as pretty as I wanted.  I'm in love with Farrah Fawcett.  Lee Majors is so damned lucky!  I have several posters of Farrah in my room.  Anyway, it kind of makes it difficult finding lesser girls attractive.  I should probably take down the posters.

Anyway, I don't know how it happened, but I got weak about tights.  I saw this girl wearing a nice dark red pair of tights and they looked so terrific.  And then she took one of her shoes off and started rubbing her foot.  It wasn't like her foot was in pain; it was more like she just liked caressing her tights clad foot.  She rolled her foot around in a circle, over and over... it was kind of hypnotic.  I stared.  And then I sensed something, raising my head up to look, and she caught me starting at her foot.  She kind of gave me a half-smile.  I quickly looked away in embarrassment.  When I looked back she wasn't looking my way any longer and put her shoe back on.  She was standing in a check-out line just one over from where I was.  Her line sped up while mine slowed down.  She checked out and started heading towards the exit.  And then she looked my way for a moment, with no smile.  I looked at her, then she looked away and left.  Wow did she look good in those red tights.  If I'd been brave enough, I'd have left the line and ran to catch up with her.  But what would I say?  "Hey, nice red tights you're wearing!"  Right.

Struggling to rescue myself

[In my last entry, I wrote about how I intentionally destroyed a pair of black tights that actually fit me.  I did it because I wanted "OUT" of this fetish.  I felt it was doing a number on me, making me less appealing to girls even though they didn't know I was wearing them.  In actuality, I was dead right.  It wasn't the tights fetish, but the self imposed ANXIETY over having it.  If I'd accepted and embraced it discreetly, there wouldn't have been any problem.  But this inner struggle affected my confidence in more ways than one.  In some respects, I let the tights fetish stifle a tremendous amount of potential, negatively affecting the course of my life for years to come.]

I stood there, looking at the cut-up shreds of what was once a decent pair of black tights.  Part of me felt sad about it, but a stronger part of me felt this was the right thing to do.  Like a baby who finally sheds his blanket, it was time that I stopped wearing tights.  And why let temptation challenge this?  Any wearable pair of tights available to me would taunt and tease my mind until I'd finally cave in and wear them again.

* * * * * * * *

About a week ago, I was riding in someone's car.  This was a family that was friends with my family.  They have two boys, one about my age.  He and I weren't pals because we lived far enough away by bicycle and in completely different school systems, so it wouldn't be easy to get together.  Plus, we had rather different personalities.  I don't think either of us were feeling like being friends is a high priority.  Anyway, he's in the front seat, his dad is driving, and I'm in the back seat.  I'm wearing black tights under my jeans and the air is warm enough in the car that I'm beginning to notice the tights more.  They weren't uncomfortable, just warming up enough to notice them.  So, Arnie is talking about some girl he was interested in at school.  He had mentioned a few things about her, then said something that perked up my interest--she is studying ballet.  Arnie apparently likes her and is trying to figure out a way to make contact.  His father gives him some very basic advice, but Arnie then mentions a boy in her dance class that she seems very close with, and he's not sure if he's a boyfriend or not.  That's when his younger brother sitting next to me says something like "I don't think you've got anything to worry about, Arnie.  Boys who take ballet are all gay.  Just look at them, they wear friggin' tights!  Hahahahaha."  His dad didn't like what he said, but Arnie agreed with him and laughed.  I sat there, wearing my tights, and feeling like a complete loser.

* * * * * * * *

With that experience fresh in my head again, I quickly put on the black tights and without hesitation, put the scissors to them and figuratively cut myself free.

I felt good.  I felt manly.  I put this God damned fetish behind me.  No more tights to wear.  I will make a point of getting a porno magazine, even if I have to steal it, and learn to masturbate to the pictures of naked women.  And I will not let myself gaze at the tights covered legs of my attractive female classmates.  This is good.  I am going to be alright.  I really am.

The fate of Suburban Tites

I made one last check of my mother's drawer and the yellow tights were not there.  I had no clue as to what she did with them.  Maybe she tossed them?  Maybe my sister did?  Certainly they'd have much less meaning to them than they would to me.  For them, it's just a garment not much different than underwear or socks.  Haven't you ever thrown out a pair of socks you don't wear any more, even though they're still in good enough condition to be worn?  For me, the tights were an extra enjoyment my family would never understand.  To me, they had value. But whatever the case, they were gone.

I made another round of the attic and found nothing.  There was just one last place to look, and that was the top shelves of my sister's closet.  My mother still had some old clothes stashed away up there.  So, with the house to myself, I got a tall chair and started rummaging.  Sure enough, I finally found something promising.  Some garments layered tightly together, with some of them in a black soft nylon material.  There were two pairs of black DANSKIN tights!  I was ecstatic.  I extracted them from the pile and put everything back as it was, climbed down off the chair, put that back, then trotted off to my room.

Not so friendly this time

[After my go-round with wearing tights on stage, I didn't get any further opportunities at the camp.  At home, I was still facing the situation of not having any tights to wear that fit.]

My sister was still taking ballet classes, although from the chatter I heard between her and mom, she was losing interest in it.  She had also started to get careless with her belongings, like losing her ballet shoes.  A friend of hers had a spare pair that fit, so that saved the day.  But then at one point, she could not find her pink dance tights.  No, it wasn't me, honest!  Hahahaha.  Really, I'd have no interest in them, not only because of the color, but because they would barely fit (I tried them on once) and they had that back seam on the leg with extra reinforcement in the foot that looked awful to me.

Care to cross dress?

Like I'd said earlier, the only thing that really interested me with girl's clothes is tights.  Frilly lace panties, bras, shoes, dresses... none of that appealed to me.  So, when one of the counselors at camp wanted me to participate in his spoof play where all the women were really guys dressed in drag, I wasn't all that hip about it.  That is, until I heard that we'd be wearing tights!

[Unfortunately, I have no recollection of what the play was or the plot.  All I recall is that it was about six women who had some funny things to say, and it went on about 30 minutes before all was said and done.  I won't be able to elaborate much more, but will do the best I can.]

 We had like three rehearsals and one dress rehearsal.  The director of the play, Ricky, was definitely having a good time with all this.  I had a feeling he might be gay, based on some of his mannerisms.  It didn't bother me, as he didn't bug me with any flirting.  Confirmation came once we had our dress rehearsal.  I never saw Ricky light up so much, with getting everybody's costumes figured out and fitted.  I ended up in a rather lean form fitting dress that ended about midway up my thighs.  On my feet were flats and on my legs were those white tights from my Mouse That Roared costume.  I was bummed that there were no brown tights in store, or some sleek pantyhose, but I couldn't be too picky.

On performance night, Ricky came into full form.  He was the director but he also took a role in the play too.  When he got his outfit and makeup on in private, we were wondering what would emerge.  Then in a crazy moment, we saw what he'd done and it confirmed what we always suspected:

Openly wearing tights

It was a while... a whole year, until the next summer when I was at camp again.  The drama director got me hooked and I auditioned for a few plays.  I got into two of them, with the lead role in one that would have some interesting costuming involved.

Well, at one point I'm in medieval garb that consisted of a long blue tunic tied to the waist, coming down to just over my crotch.  On my legs?  White tights.  On my feet?  Brown boots.  Tights and boots.  I loved it.  Not only did I get to wear this, twice in dress rehearsal and once on the stage, I was wearing tights openly among other people.  I know... just a costume.  But nevertheless it was a kind of breakthrough for me.

Carrie's reclamation

Carrie, the camp director's wife, came by the theater building and asked about her brown tights.  Uh oh... I didn't realize it, but apparently they were borrowed for the theater production.  Well, they were nowhere to be found, of course.  They were hanging on a tree out in the forest!  ;-)

Carrie wasn't too happy about it.  I don't know why, as tights aren't very expensive.  Certainly she could buy some more.  Or were they some rare tights that are difficult to find?  Anyway, the theater director had everybody start searching for them in the changing and costume rooms.  Naturally, they weren't found.

Later, I went back to the tree and untied the tights.  I figured that maybe I should return them, but by this point they were starting to get a little smelly, like mold.  Probably from getting wet and hanging in the wild.  I should wash them first.  I stuffed the tights into the brown paper bag I brought, then went up to the theater building rest room.  Using some hand soap, I washed the tights in the sink, rinsed them, and wrung them out.  Finally, I found a moment to sneak into the costuming room, then hung the tights on a hangar, wedged between a couple of clothes.  They'd probably dry by the next day and could then be "found"...

* * * Blog will slow down now * * *

I've got other things going on that is now making it difficult to post every day.  Plus, I've got so very few views and absolutely no comments, so nobody is really reading this anyway...

I may post once a week now, if that.