I’m not attracted to them, however, every. single. one. of my best friends is a transvestite or a crossdresser. With a couple of regular old run-of-the-mill gay men - both pretty flamboyant (and one is bitchier than me on my worst day, normally - but what a doll if he loves you!). What’s weird: I never confessed my bisexuality to any of them, though they are my closest confidantes, and I theirs.
I seem to be a magnet in RL… but I don’t mind at all. I do seem to relate to them on some level, though obviously I haven’t experienced life in their shoes. I was best friends with most of them before they came out, and defended them all fiercely from people’s nasty remarks and taunts before I ever knew myself that they were who they were. And I still do.
I tell you, though, they all always make me feel like a million bucks. They don’t lie, if I look like hell they tell me so, but when I shine, they don’t break out the claws like a “regular” girl will. Honestly, I think they are the best, friendliest, and healthiest relationships I have ever had with any other people - they don’t envy me, I don’t envy them (we goof off, playing shallow, but it’s all in fun), my husband doesn’t get jealous… all the great stuff that friendship entails without all the baggage. IME, of course.
God, we had fun… in a tiny, shallow, nasty little town, we all clung to each other for love and support, which most of them didn’t get from home, and neither did I, though my hopes and dreams were different. We all swore to each other, promised each other we would eventually escape from that hateful town… and we all did. We are strewn all over today, one in China, one in Greece, one in western Canada, one in Australia, three in England… and little me in Seattle. There are two more unaccounted for. The rest I keep up with, in email or running up the phone bill. 
As for “sloppiness” - IME only, when she was beginning to crossdress, one of my friends was just beginning to test the waters. She had just confessed to her parents that she was a crossdresser, and they kicked her out. So she was living in a small apartment near me, and I would help her doll up, but the process was slow. She wasn’t used to it. She hadn’t found a way to stop the stubble, and she hadn’t yet perfected leg shaving yet. But we would work together, sometimes for weeks at a time. She was a little chubby, as well, and so her manly body shape didn’t fit well in dresses, so we worked on her diet and exercise. It took some time for her to get the hang of something she had spent all of her life being denied of. She would pick clothes that didn’t hang right, and were ill-fitting. But she was so proud of herself, and we had so much fun, doing each others hair and nails and make up. Last time I saw her in person, she’d lost a lot of weight and the clothes were fitting much better, she could shave her legs without a million nicks (hey! even those of us who’ve been doing it forever have some trouble sometimes!), and she was applying her own makeup without such a heavy hand. When she first began crossdressing in public, it was all so new to her, and she felt so good to be free, so a lot of it was enthusiasm; excitement. When I was 13 years old, and my mother allowed me to wear makeup for the first time, AND jewellery, I always overdid it in my excitement. I have no idea if that is what it is like for all crossdressers, but watching my dear friend was like watching my 13 year old self - excited with the new realms of freedom and expression. So that might account for some of the ladies you see who might look a little unkempt, but probably not for all. Some may only like to do it for the weekend, and might be satisfied with how they look to themselves, and/or how they feel with themselves. And that’s really all that counts.
Sorry for my rambling. Touched on a few of my fondest memories. I have a few phone calls I need to make now - got some old friends I need to catch up with.
