Words of warning and welcome:

This is very much my blog, so don't be surprised if this doesn't follow accepted patterns and norms. Obviously it started out as a blog about my cross-dressing but it has developed a great deal since then. It is a place where I can be anonymous and honest, and I appreciate that.

It will deal with many things and new readers would do well to check out the New Readers' Page above this and the tag down there on the right. Although there's nothing too bad in here there will be adult language, so be careful. If you think this needs a greater control, please let me know. Thank you!

Sunday, 7 April 2019

The lie of the land

Not a proper entry, more a repository.

Tilly said I would probably prefer beer to an egg for Easter today, and I was off out to charge the car, I thought about it. No. I don't want anything from her. I told her this on my return. In a previous conversation I explained to Tilly how I am about hugs: they are romantic things and thus I don't hug people that aren't her. She has alleged that I have not been initiating hugs, she's been keeping track (a la my reports previously I note) but she has no idea when I was doing this - especially after I raised my chastity and my deliberate efforts to be more romantic and submissive within that. Of course she doesn't know, she hasn't been keeping track at all, she's reaching. My reasoning for this digression? I'm not sure about hugs now. Now I know that there is no hope, that we are sexually incompatible, I am not sure how to proceed.

On Thursday I researched divorce. It costs £550 to apply. I cannot cite my own behaviour, my Father has pointed out that my cross-dressing would count as unreasonable behaviour and would likely result in Tilly getting the house at least. I'm not sure he's wrong. If it were contested. I checked out counselling to deal with the end of the relationship, it costs £60 a pop - so like my therapy cost - I can't afford that or a divorce. Good to know I guess, it's not like it would change anything, I haven't worn my wedding ring for about three years, we haven't really been married for a long time. Tilly has made that clear over the years.

Saturday, Tilly told me she'd seen a romantic poem about growing old together that she felt summed us up, but she had lost it. She's reaching. I am unclear how one can believe that after all that has been said on the matter over the last fortnight. For reference, she has told me that no outsourcing can take place under this roof - there can be no looking at porn, masturbation, dressing, communication on kink etc under this roof. Naive. Of course I already am. It's my fucking house too. I didn't illuminate her - what she doesn't know won't hurt her (as she said, I disagree) - so I can add that I am a liar to the litany of counts against me. Also, her demands are a little unreasonable in my estimation, so fuck them.

I had an evening off on Friday - Tilly and the children were out until late in the nearby city for the eldest to practice for a national show and for the boys to troop around with Tilly. I watched The Lobster whilst they were out, had a beer, had some me time. Fuck 'em. I liked the film. Over the weekend I have done my best to be helpful around the house and look after the children. Bloody-mindedness, I have some of it. And now I am not working again. I don't care. Can't afford divorce so... death? I dunno. I have looked at rents - there are some apartments for around £400 pcm, if I could find a way of having a car for cheaper than I currently pay I could maybe afford that. I can live off a surprisingly small amount per week. Tilly would have to shop on a weekend. Maybe if I ditch the car? Depends on rail costs to get to work. Hmm.

Why has this taken me so long?

Friday, 5 April 2019

I just read a quote and I liked it

It was in an article about the issues with teaching. A terminally ill woman on a walk said to her recently retired husband, an ex headteacher, that as she faced the end of her life she wished that she could have been his passion.

Powerful stuff. It cuts to the very heart of what teaching does to people. The marking, the planning but most of all the stress expand to fill headspace. And I have been guilty of this for all of my time with Tilly and the children. As Tilly has often pointed out, even this last week, I am very often not present because my head is somewhere else, usually worrying about teaching.

But that isn't what struck me about the quote. No.

I honestly can't imagine Tilly ever wishing that she was my passion. As much as she blames me for all our relationship issues, she is happy with things as they are. Every conversation, every failed compromise, every talk about change... She is happy. She doesn't want physical intimacy. She cannot comprehend any of my quirks or wishes and doesn't want to.

I spoke to my Father. As predicted, he agrees that Tilly is mostly at fault, he pointed out that his recent consultant work with a body looking after the victims of childhood abuse gave him the feeling that Tilly was probably abused as a child given her views on relationships, sex and my role as father. But, equally predictably, he suggested that I should suppress my crossdressing and give up on being submissive. These were not normal and, for all her faults, Tilly was right to cite them as reasons for the breakdown in our relationship. Between those things and our decision to homeschool lay the biggest problems that could be solved. Divorce wasn't an answer. Harsh but honest - traits I inherited from him. My brother got the charisma and charm that turns women's heads. Even Tilly has said that if she were my Father's age and she'd just met him she'd find him attractive and interesting. Many female friends who have met my Father agree. My brother is similar. He was never without a girlfriend except through choice and has always had women swoon over him, still does though he's married, a bit fat, and has two children and loves his wife. Point is, they are considered to be good catches.

I got the other part.

I spoke to my Mother. Turns out that she is kinky - she didn't offer and I didn't ask in what way - and she thinks that I need to do something. In typical ASD logic she argues that all people are secretly kinky and that Tilly and I need therapy because not wanting sex is abnormal and I am too ready to take the blame. My stress is making me awful with the children (my Father was up more recently and confirmed that he thought I was being a shit father to my children). If I am to blame myself for anything it's not being a loving father. She also pointed out that her ability to compromise had meant that she had many sexual partners in her life (and every one kinky in a different way).

I get the ASD and negative self image from my Mother. My brother got her ability to remember things about the people she meets and the ability to accidentally make firm friends with strangers as a result. My Mother's ability to change enough to be approachable without ever changing her core beliefs is my brother's inheritance. I got her unyielding logic and bloody mindedness.

I don't have passion to offer and, as I reflected again talking to my Father, I have never been anyone else's either.

Tuesday, 2 April 2019

We drink together not alone


I have lots to say but now is not the time for details.

Never gonna happen.
Chastity ended in failure, like most of the things I do, because I failed to spot some chafing getting out of hand. Lost my Holder, out of chastity, still not tried to masturbate or orgasm. Which, I think, is fitting. It led to quite an emotional time on Sunday, resulting in me being a monster to the youngest again, because I am shit at dealing with pressure. On the Saturday Tilly and I had sparred because I had asked for a conversation on unfinished discussions from October - I was planning to raise a Female Led Relationship and my chastity, actually discuss what I had learned so far and see what happened after that. Would you believe that I was actually daring to hope that she might join in? Ha!

The sparring was not edifying, she was getting her blows in first because she didn't know what I was going to talk about. Raising how thinking I may be cross-dressing made sex impossible, forever; how much I had been unable to help her and how shit I was at supporting her generally. I was like another child and so on and so forth. You know the deal by now, you could probably sing along. And so we got to Monday. Not trusting myself after a week of firing off randomly I hid in my room and spoke to no one all day. The pressure built. Tilly was upset when I got home, stormy discussions followed.

Never gonna happen.
However, the upshot was that I sort of said "fuck it" and thus followed a full and frank disclosure about my submissiveness and my chastity to Tilly. I explained that I might actually be a submissive and not the switch I had assumed. I explained that I had found out about FLRs and that I would like to look at that. I explained that I had been in chastity for over 50 days and that had helped me look at these parts of myself. That I might be wrong, that I was still learning, that nothing was set in stone. Tilly said she couldn't imagine hitting me - she would laugh, she would feel too self-conscious. I assured her I would do all in my power to help her not feel that way - hitting or no - because if there was anyone she should be able not to feel self-conscious with it would be me. It all seemed positive and good. I was shocked. Dear reader, was this it? Was the worry be careful what you wish for rather than the end of days? We paused. Tilly went to the toilet.

When she returned it was with anger that I had had the space and time to think things through to that level. It was with recriminations that I was forcing her to take on yet more emotional labour and we were already the worst people she knew for that kind of shit. Did I not think she deserved time for work, now wasted and gone due to this discussion, did I believe she didn't deserve some slack because she had a child? Oh, she saw how it was, I could have the time and space to shit about learning about chastity and sex stuff and she was consigned to eking out time that was needed for teh children. I provided nothing, no support, and I was selfish and shit. It... took me aback. |I fired back though, it wasn't fair to accuse me of such things when there wasn't the physical time to offer and marking wasn't time I got - it was work, and we needed the money. Extra marking? I would ditch it all tomorrow, had been trying since 2010 actually, but couldn't because we need the money. Angry silence followed, brimming with resentment. But then snuggles were offered and we went to sleep.

More likely.
I texted Tilly this morning and it was an agonising ten hours before she responded this afternoon. Apparently she hadn't seen the text. I felt sick all day. Stuff kicked off without me knowing, but I was worried that I was staring at the end of days. I had gone into work discussing frankly with Him Upstairs about the potential end of things - how would I cope? But the text was reassuring. This evening, when she got back, she revealed she'd been reading. About subs, about FLRs and such. She had done her homework and, well, no.


No, these were not for her. At all. But me being a submissive was helpful to know. Her anger, her nagging, her lashing out - they stemmed from my submissiveness. She wants something a bit more 'manly' not submissive. Trying an FLR, she said, wouldn't be healthy as she would get very critical, naggy, and resentful whilst my low self-esteem would allow her to do that and get worse as a consequence. Knowing what she now knew, and she thanked me for being honest and open, it explained the problem that we could never quite put our finger on. It wasn't just the cross-dressing - it was the combination of cross-dressing and submission. It was my inability to be the 'manly' man she wanted. That tendency of mine encouraged her worst impulses. I had helped her become a better person over time but at the expense of any adventurousness and desire to experiment. I did not now, nor had I ever, turned her on. She enjoyed sex, but the idea of being 'turned on' is alien to her - it's not how that works. I had kinks, I saw things differently and there was nothing that could be done.

There is, she said, the option of outsourcing, using a pro-domme. Otherwise, she said, it was unfair to me. That's a first, an awareness that it may be unfair to me. She said she realised that I would be suffering, that I always had been, and there was no real way to deal with that. She hadn't read much on out-sourcing beyond seeing it could be an option. She joked that she could pay for a session for my birthday when I said I would be uncomfortable paying for it (something she also said she would have predicted and was the absolutely most me response I could have given). The least attractive option is to end it all. And that, ladies and gentlemen is where we left it.

More another time.

Thursday, 28 March 2019

So Hard

Perhaps long overdue. Perhaps not.


I am struggling, when am I not? But why this time? Let's indulge a bit, shall we? Still locked up, which is still comforting, but things are getting odd again. Because I am me and because I do not understand your human boundaries I ended up getting all musical and post-modern in my report to my Holder online and I think, honestly, I scared her off. We were playing and I think I might have ruined that by being me. I kill playfulness and experimentation. I destroy good-natured happiness and I grind good feelings underfoot until nothing is left but bitter ashes.

At work, stresses have built because I can't seem to sleep at the moment. My concerns regarding...


See, here's the thing, a lot has been left unsaid since November last year. In December, Tilly came to the conclusion that she could try and live with me and my ASD. She could try and see if we could make things work. But, like she warned would happen, we then agreed to pootle on as if we hadn't skirted close to divorce and then a month passed. I went into chastity, without Tilly's knowledge, as a coping strategy test-run. And then it took off. Like all exciting things I got carried away. And, like always when I get carried away, I end up ruining it.


Because this chastity leaves plenty of time to reflect and think about things. Going on to a site called Chastity Mansion opened up a new community to listen to, to talk at and eventually to over-share with - in that way that I do. And there was talk of Female Led Relationships and submission. Submission is something I have been investigating through my chastity decision and with my Holder because, well, why not? I have leaned in, and I have been semi-rewarded, but that brought more questions and taht, in turn, brought some disappointments. My attempts to be more submissive with Tilly in an effort to cope with the way things are brought a recoiling from me by her. I was too fixated on things, I was too keen to do things she liked, I wasn't dealing well with my blow-up with the youngest. Basically, when I thought I was being more open and helpful and romantic I was actually being weird and fixated and annoying and shit. Like I normally am but worse.


I want to talk to Tilly about what I have discovered, about what is going on, but a full weekend where I got no time to work ("I did warn you not to have any work on over the weekend!") and no down-time coupled with a series of evenings of indefinite child-care whilst Tilly got stressed with and at the elder children did not help. So, on Monday, with Harry being depressed and using me as a sounding board I found myself emotionally spent. Cue some shitty students spotting this and riling me up. Unforgivably, I had a sense of humour failure at them, leading to me splurging on another colleague who happened to be in the same room as me. And whilst I wasn't specific I did find myself bringing in the pressure of my own dark thoughts about the lack of progress since last October and the fact that I feel trapped as I can't talk to Tilly. This low mood and sudden lack of emotional control continued into Tuesday after another crap night's sleep so that I struggled to operate effectively and was a bit snitty and snappy generally. Coupled with not having got my work done over the weekend and I struggled to function at work at all. On the evening I came home, was thrust straight into child-care until 2030 when I could cook myself some tea and then was simply too tired to work.


Wednesday. I miss a meeting. I had to cut a meeting short with a student and hadn't got to the 'how to fix what they had fucked up' stage of our discussion. I was feeling down. Perhaps a tad suicidal, I don't know. A colleague who is lovely asked how I was and then pushed until I ranted a bit because, you know, my inability to control emotions at the moment. She was concerned, tried to tell me (via e-mail thank God) that she thought I gave her hope about her ASD son because I was happily married with children. This made me feel even worse. Of course it did. Before that e-mail I got back from finding out what happened at the meeting I missed to the Form Tutor of the student I left informing me that said student had complained and that I needed to sort it out. The Head of Sixth Form also saw me and said, essentially, the same thing. He then caught up with me at lunch time (still pre-e-mail) and told me that the Form Tutor had now also complained that I was abrupt and that I had upset them. I had to find both staff and student, apologise, and fix matters. This was an order.


I found the staff member, she agreed to send the student to me to sort that out and was utterly confused as to why I was apologising - she claimed she had not spoken at all to the Head of Sixth Form. Fuck knows what's happening now. I get back to the e-mail. Cue almost crying. I weather the afternoon somehow. I get home - it's the youngest's birthday - to an empty house littered with the remains of a happy birthday. Checking the Book of Faces reveals Tilly has posted some lovely moments. But, once again, it is when I am at work. I haven't been present at the actual opening of cards and unwrapping of birthday presents with any of my children for the past two years now. It kinda hurts. Also, evidence that the family had eaten, but there was nothing for me. I went out to get a soup.


I bump into Tilly and the children. Tilly berates me for going out for food, we had something to eat and she hadn't had tea yet. Would I carry the youngest for her and walk with them. We get home, eldest dropped off at another class, and Tilly has lost a bag with some of youngest's toys in it. I run off to get that, trying to calm a panicked Tilly beforehand because emotional labour is a thing I can attempt now and again. I get the bag, go home, then set off immediately to pick the eldest up. Tilly greets her return with a bizarre display of wanting to be Right - it fucks me off when Tilly does it with me, I hate it more when she does it with our children - and this time I quibble.

"There's no need to say something like that," spits Tilly, "and certainly not looking at me like that!"

I don't argue, I fold. I look down, don't meet her gaze. What is there to say? She stays angry, my 'whipped puppy' look is enough to send her spiralling into a rage against me for quite some time. Later, around 2100, she apologises but her heart isn't in it. She's sorry for her tone, she shouldn't have been so grumpy. She is not sorry for the substance of her complaint. She never is. I end up writing a wide-ranging e-mail that is tinged by all of this and may have scared off my play-partner, and with good reason. I'm not a playful person. Not for long.


Today is my busiest day. I survive, but only just. Get home, child-care, charge car, get on computer. No work. Manage to learn from Tilly that I have been pretty awful since Christmas, slowly getting worse. She's drowning in all the things she has to do with the children (what, with dance shows, rehearsals, performing in Joseph and getting the Boy to his classes, as well as running creative writing, science, French and maths classes in the house for multiple home-schooled children from around the local area, and making sure friends come round and drama classes and trying out new classes and you get the idea). She'd asked me to get a signal booster for the broadband a fortnight or so ago, I hadn't, so she had done it. This was proof that I can't really help her out when she is stressed because I am incapable of adding more to my routine. If I want to talk, I brought this up, then I must understand all the things that I can't do for her and how long I have not been doing them. I must understand how hard she is finding things. Sure, we can talk, but I shouldn't expect her to listen fully when I can't even do one or two things to keep her from drowning in her own life. Pre-emptive excuses, gotta love 'em.


To think, on Friday I was planning to post here to talk glowingly of chastity and how much it had helped my mood - with hopes that it was also having an effect on helping my relationship and just generally improving my outlook. I only held off because I wanted to have nice round numbers (four weeks since an orgasm, Monday at 0730; 50 days locked up, today) and... well, that lovely post will never be written. Instead I write this shit.


I thought, maybe, that I could actually find out that submission worked for me, maybe apply it in stealth and see what happened. But I can't even do that. Conversation on Chastity Mansion on FLRs showed that... well, I can't really call myself submissive and... Yeah, my assumption that I would make a terrible submissive was borne out. My knowledge that I can take any positive interaction and, over time, ruin it has been borne out with the good lady stranger that agreed to be my Holder. I doubt I can recapture that.


If I were a better person I would actually do something about my suicidal ideation rather than just sitting and stewing in it. But the fact that I ended up feeling worse in my last attempt to use therapy, and worse than I do now, coupled with hitting the panic button back in October last year means that I won't. I'll just stew. Ah, fuck this, I can't words.

Saturday, 9 March 2019

Never been closer to Heaven...

Never been further away.

A quick update I guess.

First of all, I have leaned in on the chastity thing. I am in contact with a Holder via Emlalock and, since last Monday, I am doing it right. Having to play safe by unlocking if I need sleep (stress from a trip the last two days for example) but the upshot is that I have only spent eleven hours out of my device since sixteen days ago. So, that's a thing.

However, I have been in chastity, mostly, now for about 30 days ish, and I am seriously planning to stay in until at least Easter. I like how it makes me feel. I like that I am not constantly on sites for the purpose of jacking off each evening.

Of course, this is my blog, so negatives ahoy! Coffee. Been having too much of that, so an irritable and tetchy. Last weekend I was looking after the youngest and it all went... Badly. The short of it? I'm a monster. Not proud of myself, Tilly all stressed about it and this weekend when we try again. Of course, I fall ever further behind with work, worrying about what has been said to me and the rising tone of hysteria from above.

And ruminating. All this time in chastity, Tilly has not noticed. She said the other day that she knows I am wearing knickers, often, that she hates it and it makes her angry but she knows I won't stop so there's no point discussing it. It's her problem, she repeats unconvincingly, not mine.

Remembering the time in Carlisle, when I thought I was being romantic but Tilly was sadly disappointed that we ended up just wandering about and felt only the lack of love, companionship and loneliness that comes from having a relationship with someone on the spectrum. That was my chance, she's said in the past, to be romantic and save the physical side - but I blew it. However, she accepts me playing with her hair. Sometimes. Provided it's not because I want to. She won't tell me when she wants me to do it and I haven't to ask too much but if I miss the moment she feels resentful that I missed it. Same old same old.

And yeah, I think I can reach Easter, and beyond, and she won't know or care. It's been over two years, bear in mind, and we are on track to hit four easily. She can't see a time when she would want sexual contact.

At work, I have been being more submissive generally, I can feel it. An extended joke calling Harry Ma'am has taken on a life of its own, with Harry saying that she likes it and asking me to keep doing it. She uses me as a listening board about the end of her most recent relationship, the men that creep her out, life events. Because I am safe. Which I take as a compliment, if I am honest.

And that's it. Oh, no, there's also the fact that my Holder asked me to wear thongs. I don't have to, I know how to cheat these things, but I can't deny that they are much better for the device in terms of holding it in and allowing me to move quite rigourously. By the end of the day it's uncomfortable but better than rubbed bits.

So... Yeah. Forgive my random wall of text, but this is the place that I can be honest, brutally so, and so here is my honest record. No images, because I am on my phone.

Tuesday, 19 February 2019

Thoroughly Chastised

Here is the image again. It does look like this. I like the fact
that the cage is opaque. I don't have to look at my penis,
which may I remind you is cursed, and that's good.
You may recall my playing with a chastity device around the end of August last year, well, things were such that I thought I would return to it and see if I could break my record. I set myself up, got comfortable, and took the plunge. And, you know what? It was lovely. For the first two days at work things were actually rather nice, nothing was obvious and the feeling of having things cradled down there was actually rather lovely. I was in no danger, I had my spare key with me. And then I opened a session on Emlalock because, well, I wanted to see just how far I could go. In the past I have been on emlalock and nothing has happened, so I didn't expect much and looked forward to maybe ending things over the weekend.

I was in for a shock, because the session was adopted on the Friday night and I decided to stay true and real to it for a while. It was quite a thing being in contact with someone else who was controlling my chastity. I enjoyed the experience and remained locked from 7.30am on 6 February through to 141 hours later, so just under six days? I lose track. However, over the next couple of days I missed the warm feeling of the chastity cage (is that the right term? Eh, it'll do) and the feeling of having to be careful, so I donned it once more and kept it on for a further 60 hours. However, I'd messed up and had to remove it and recover a bit as I'd done it so badly I ran the risk of injury and damage.

Heh, no one would do this for me. But... yeah, you get the
picture.

Literally, because it is a visual caption.
By now we were in the half term holiday (I shan't detail the shitty goings on at work, they are par for the course it appears for me) and I spent yesterday with the family. Well, I say that, I spent it running errands and being the childcare off to one side either with the youngest as he pushed tractors for an hour or so or with the eldest two as they watched a magic show. Tilly and the mother of the other children spent much of the time in conversation, catching up, and Tilly spent some valuable time without a small person clambering over her. Over the weekend she had a friend over and it was my job to baby-sit the youngest, collect the takeaways and generally give her the time to spend with her friend or to work on her book and book deal (it's going ahead and is likely to be financially viable as well). Don't get me wrong, but it does get wearing. I digress.

At the day out I noticed that I was behaving as if I still had the cage on, carefully weighing options and preventing any engorgement of down there. Sure, wearing it has been robbing me of some sleep as it torments me awake in the middle of the night, but what is that to the feeling of safety and interest that it provides. I mean, I can happily pretend with a session online and provide titillation and amusement for the person that adopted my session - that's easy and par for the course - but I can't pretend about the warm feeling of a locked cage during the day. And, I can't.


Lies.
Checking my health down there this morning I was satisfied all was well and promptly locked myself up again but with a smaller ring to prevent pulling. This seems to have helped and done the trick regarding pain elsewhere, and whilst at work today trying to tidy up I found it was quite nice to have it back on. I'm not saying it's not... interesting to wear but I am suggesting that it feels snug and comforting in away. Even the occasional pain as it flares up without warning is nice, as if it matters again, you know?

Fair enough.
The whole thing put me in mind of the first few entries on this place and my relationship with cross-dressing at that time. Bizarrely enough, this isn't about cross-dressing, it's just about feeling as though down there matters again, like it means something, like it counts. It doesn't, of course, but it's a nice feeling.

I want to talk to Tilly about it, to share my feelings and explain. But I can't. There isn't the time to talk and I don't even know how I would raise it. During our recent(?) travails (is it really four months ago?) Tilly explained that she self-identifies as a middle-aged woman with three children. As a consequence she doesn't think of sex at all, doesn't see how or why it would fit anywhere and, honestly, doesn't see that changing. As for anything else, without even sex as a bedrock she can't understand how she is supposed to even consider any of it, nor why I should either.

So, for now, I am locked. And my record is now 141 hours. For what it's worth. Which isn't much.


Tuesday, 1 January 2019

New Year Listings

It's 2019 and it's been a heck of a year in 2018.

I've not much to say this year. Unlike previous years. I can thank Leslie, again, for being a pillar of support once again and continuing to offer wise counsel. I hope that she knows just how much help she's provided and how much that has been appreciated in this last tumultuous year.

I can also add Lily to the list of helpful peeps this year and thank them for all the help that has been provided simply by having someone to give a virtual ear in times of high trouble and also providing things to be read throughout the year. These have provided a rare treat in terms of quality and diversion at points where, frankly, I needed that. Most especially when it looked like everything was actually about to go South rather than just painting things that way as I do.

Thank you, also, to Rhi, who does still stop by from time to time and deserves a shout out for continuing to be helpful and supportive and positive to other people far in advance of what she gets for herself from those people.

Honestly, the kindness of people that stop by here continues to make me embarrassed and impressed in equal measure. So thank you. Sincerely.

In terms of sites that I visited, things have been lean this year. The latter part of the year saw me transfer almost entirely to GetDare forums, where things were pretty good actually. It meant that I finally bit the bullet and got and wore a chastity device - still one of my best purchases of the last year - and met and talked with a number of highly decent and interesting people. Thank you that site.

Things are better than they were back in November (so long ago, right?). Still a long way to go, still more to murble about on this here blog. But recently I've been ill a bit and burned through that by drinking plenty of high class beer. Mmm, beer.