When Irish Eyes Are Smiling (Part 1)

I’m a married male-to-female crossdresser from Australia in my mid-50s. In late November 2022, I had the opportunity to go home to Ireland for a wedding. My wife was not keen on going because of the Irish winter and concerns about COVID. The timing of the invitation coincided with coming out as a crossdresser to my eldest sister in Ireland. I saw the immense opportunity that this trip presented. While having come out to my wife, she only accepts my crossdressing within limits, which greatly restricts the occasions and durations of my transformations.

I asked my sister if the bride and groom’s families would be okay with me coming to the wedding as “Geraldine.”. She replied that everybody would be happy to meet my feminine persona, except my elderly parents, and suggested I should not upset them. However, my parents would only be at the wedding, and that I would have opportunities the day before and after to socialise with relatives as Geraldine..

When the trip came, I flew “drab” to minimise any potential complications with airport authorities. I also didn’t dress for the actual wedding day, out of consideration for my parents, nor on days when I would be visiting my parents. To be honest, there were also times when I was just not up for the effort involved in makeup and dressing, especially when I was still suffering from jetlag.

Overall, the trip was amazing, and I was more than happy with the time I spent as Geraldine, and with the welcome and support of my extended family, and people generally. I was always completely comfortable while En femme. My eldest sister, who I was staying with, was especially good to me, providing me with toiletries, an eyeshadow palette, and lending me clothes.

The occasions when I did get to dress as Geraldine included an evening the week I arrived, when I visited to couple of pubs in a LGBTQ district of Dublin along with my eldest sister. I wore my black and white light silk dress, long black boots, and a coat that my sister lent me. She seemed happy to have an excuse to check out the district herself, normally having no reason to go there. We took the public bus for convenience, and had a nice, though relatively uneventful evening (apart from a man wanting to buy me a drink, which I declined).

The following week, I dressed to go back into the city during the day, checking out a museum (where the female cashier kindly pointed out that I had lipstick on my teeth.) I wore a black denim skirt, white woolen jumper, and long black boots. I did a little city shopping, stopped for a beer at a pub, needing the bar lady to open my craft beer can to save my false nails from being damaged. I went into the lady's room to make sure everything was still in the right place. The cubicles were so tight that you almost had to stand astride the toilet bowl to close the door!

Returning home, I popped into the local pub to surprise my younger brother, who hadn’t seen me En femme. I looked around but didn’t see him. The bartender asked if she could help me, and I responded in my male voice that I was just looking for somebody. On the way out, a man at the bar exclaimed, “WTF was that?” I had a smile on my face and was half-tempted to go back in and sit down at the bar next to this man to see his reaction. Later that day, I was treated to a home cooked dinner by my younger sister, her husband, and teenage daughter. They were amazingly accepting. We laughed about my local pub experience. My sister thought I should go back and play the part of my brother’s jilted lover. His drinking mates would have something to talk about for years to come!

Then it was time for me to spread my wings and do a short road trip that finished at the wedding venue later that week. First stop was Cork City in the south of Ireland. I checked into my hotel in drab and was assisted by the front of house manager who came out to my car and assisted me with my bags. When I checked out en femme, with luggage that he would have recognised, I thanked him again for his assistance, and he had to do a double take. While in Cork, I went out to a couple of pubs in a short dress with a warm coat, that my sister lent me, and a fur hat I borrowed from my wife’s collection at home. I don’t know to what extent I “passed.” While I make an effort to present well, I’m comfortable not passing, and I know I give myself away anyway when I open my mouth to order a drink or when I ask for assistance at clothing or makeup shops.

While most people wouldn’t have clocked me, it did cross my mind that someone might have thought I was a crossdressing Russian draft dodger, hiding out in Ireland in my fur hat. Funny enough, I did actually meet a Russian guy at one of these Cork pubs. We talked about Bamberg smoky beer. I don’t think he knew what to make of me, or my intentions, and while very friendly, he left shortly afterwards. I stated I was sticking around to try an Irish seaweed stout, to reassure him I only here for the beer and the chat. The next morning, dressed again, I visited a local art gallery, looked in a few shops, and bought a couple of makeup items. I drove to Kilkenny, where I had once lived for a short time, and checked into my hotel en femme, before exploring the town. Apart from the shops, I also visited a local Catholic church and realised that I was the only lady wearing a head scarf! It’s obviously been a while since I’ve been to church. Then it was dinner back at my hotel.

I checked-out En femme the following day and headed to the wedding town in county Wexford, where I had lunch in town with my sister and her husband, before checking-in at the bed and breakfast. Later, I picked up my sister at the wedding resort, where I was introduced to some relatives as Geraldine. We had dinner at a posh restaurant nearby. I wore a borrowed white dress with sequins and a pair of heels, although I had difficulty with my heels wanting to flop off at the back. I thought I looked fabulous, and the meal was very nice. On the wedding day itself, I got to introduce myself again to some people in my male persona, which didn’t seem to faze anybody. I had a wonderful time, although I ended up leaving earlier than most people (due to jetlag and having a limited ability to socialise for extended periods.)

The following day I wore my front crisscross tweed-like dress to the “evening after” disco. The landlady at my bed and breakfast complimented me on the way I looked before leaving. It was a fun time, and I worked out a way to keep my heels in place with double-sided tape. I was able to comfortably get on the dance floor and show off my moves to House of Pain’s “Jump Around” and the Beastie Boys’ “Intergalactic.”

To be continued…