The Beer Festival
A Vignette
By Maryanne Peters

Karl and I come from a small town in Germany – in Bavaria, close to the Alps. We have lived there all our lives. We went to school together and we became friends. Then we became more than friends – we became lovers. And then more than lovers – we moved in together, as a gay couple.

In our town there were plenty of people who disapproved, but a town like that is too small for anything to be said. You can say whatever you like about German people, but even if they don’t like it, they tolerate difference because it is not our nature to turn it into a drama.

So, for many we were simply two men who shared a home. It had two bedrooms, and people outside did not need to know that we used the smaller one for storage.

I had tried very hard to appear masculine, which was so easy for Karl. He used to laugh at me sometimes for being manly in front of strangers when he knew that I just wanted to squeal and flap my hands about. He said that he loved that part of me. I just kept it for him – a feminine side that had always been there.

At work I was a man, although under my clothes I liked to keep my body hairless. It was as if the moment I put on my men’s clothes I cloaked the light of my body in a shroud while I went about my work. I could not wait to shed it when I got home, but I did not step into women’s clothes – just something comfortable and sometimes colorful.

But I did admire women’s clothes. I just did not get turned on by wearing them. I would prefer to be naked for Karl, or appear in town as the man everybody knew me as.

But then I lost my job and the chance of another one in our town was basically nix, as some people say. I was not depressed because I was getting sick of my job, and Karl was earning enough for both of us. He laughed and told me to stay home and be a hausfrau. He meant it as a joke, and I have to say that I giggled a little, but I think that it put an idea in my head.

I used to wear an apron around the house when I worked. I could have chosen a man’s apron, but there were plenty more aprons around s some lace and other work, so I chose those. One day I was feeling a little playful and when Karl came home I was only wearing the apron. I don’t know why, but the sex that followed was the bet I had ever had. It seemed to me that Karl liked a little bit more femininity to get him going, as if there might be some restschuld [residual guilt] in being gay.

The town next ours has a beer festival in the first week of October every year. It is common in our region, and it is the chance to revel in our culture. We always dress up for these things in traditional clothes, and I told Karl that I would like to go dressed as a woman. He seemed happy to say yes.

I have to say that perhaps I took thing a little too far. I found the perfect outfit in traditional Bavarian colors and a matching shirt for Karl, but well before the festival I went to a beauty shop in the city and hay hair extended and makeup done by a professional. I don’t men “drag” either. I mean that I looked like a woman – a strong woman perhaps, but a woman.

Karl was initially a little shocked, but he laughed at how pleased I was. It was not as if I was getting some kind of sexual thrill by cross-dressing as some men do, it was more about being free to be new and different.

And for Karl it meant that when we were at the festival he could kiss me in front of everybody with being stared at or abused. He loves me and he wants to show his love, but in rural Germany people just don’t accept two men kissing and holding hands, and showing their love to the world.

Now we can. When we came back from the beer festival I bought a bunch of dresses and I basically decided that we should live as a man and his wife. That is what we are in the village these days. Karl likes to say that he met my twin sister at the beer festival and he brought her home. That makes people smile. It makes people who disliked us before now find us slightly more acceptable.

What we do in the privacy of our home is our own business, but I have to admit, things have changed a little. I am not sure how things might develop from here given that the male in me seems to be fading, but I remain confident in my husband’s love.

The End
854

© Maryanne Peters 2026