The most dreaded fear and revelation

[Fast forward another couple of years...]

* * * * * * * *

At this point, I have amassed a collection of five unitards and about a dozen tights.  Some of the tights are from dance wear suppliers, so they're thick Lycra and seamed on the legs.  But most are women's tights that I've been able to buy from department stores.  There were plenty of trials and failures of buying tights that looked like they'd work out, but then I'd be sorely disappointed by the quality or the fit.  Eventually I found a couple of brands that actually fit me OK.  I started wearing them more often, like in bed and under my clothes.

But unfortunately, insecurity still lurked in the back of my mind.  I wasn't really afraid of rejection at this point, if I'd managed to get caught by a girlfriend (like her rummaging through a box or drawer of mine and finding the tights and unitards).  I feared that my indulgence with the tights was robbing me of my masculinity.   That while I wasn't dating, all of my "bonding" with the nylon stretchiness was forging a stronger tie.

Then I met Carol.

We were working together at the same office and finding that we have a lot in common.  She was rather cute, but engaged to be married, so this was a perfect opportunity to have a platonic girlfriend.  I hadn't had one in a long while.  It's tough with men and women... you need a special dynamic to have a friendship without a sexual angle.  They say that one or both people in a male/female relationship will have an attraction for the other person on a subconscious level, that with the right circumstances can be brought to the surface.  That's why you can be friends with someone for a good stretch, then one day you kind of "wake up" and realize that you're really attracted to them.  Well, with an official acknowledgement of intended betrothal, there was every good reason not to think about attraction.  She wasn't my "ideal" girlfriend.  And, there were other girls at work I was attracted to.  Funny enough, when I confided in Carol that I was attracted to Cindy, a statuesque brunette with super model looks, she sought to become her friend.  Cindy had a boyfriend who was a muscle head.  Of course, right?  But, from what I began to learn from Carol was that she wasn't happy with him.  He took her for granted and was outright rude at times.  Cindy was becoming ambivalent about staying with him.  That's why I decided to make my move. I invited her out to lunch.

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.