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!

Tuesday, 12 March 2013

Drum Beat

I finally got round to creating a new CD to listen to in the car. I had some older ones but they ended up being stowed for no particular reason in Tilly's CD case which was then brought into the house - leaving me with Closer to Heaven and a few Driving 101 CDs. Hmm. I like both, but travelling to and from my grandmother's funeral and my brother's wife's thirtieth alone meant that I got bored of them and they needed to be replaced.

The funeral was attended alone because of the children. Neither would really be likely to conform to my family's expectations of behaviour and the alternative of having them hang out at my grandfather's house in an unfamiliar city was... well, let's just say it made sense. It meant that I was unique among the mourners for being alone (well, mourner may be a bit of a strong term for me) but hey - this is what I signed up for in our marriage I guess. The thirtieth was similarly utilitarian in our case - it was starting at 7pm and was an hour's drive from home. There was no way that our children would have coped with that, if they are up past their bedtime then all of their pent up evil spills forth with vitriol.

Yeah, this is pretty much me at school. Except I had 20/20
vision and was male. Other than that, well, you get the
idea. Male socially awkward images didn't... well, I wasn't
a nerd and this sort of thing seems more me.
I know.
I know.
This meant that I was alone when my father and his wife brought up the fact that we have decided to home school. Wouldn't this mess with our childrens' abilities to socialise? Were we not denying them the fun of school? What about their academic chances? Was I not condemning my wife to domestic drudgery and suffering because she couldn't leave the house? Did school do me any harm? It was an attack, well-meaning, but an attack. I was counselled to avoid "mollycoddling" our children because they would find it harder to cope with the real world if I did that. I confess, I rose to the bait when asked if I enjoyed school. "Yes, I loved the academics there, you know I did, but I hated the social aspect. Did you forget I was bullied for most of my school life? I was made to feel ostracised and socially awkward. Hey, still socially awkward. No, my children are not missing out on socialisation. They are missing out on being told what to do and when to do it by people who care more about results than my childrens' enjoyment of what they do and missing out on sitting behind a desk being berated for getting answers wrong. Yes, I suppose they are missing out."

It's not for everyone... Actually, you know what? It is for everyone. Human society works best with home school or unschooling. Our present educational landscape was designed to support industrialisation, shift work and the dehumanisation of the workers so that they would accept discipline and their place in society, dammit, avoiding evils like equality and socialism. I'm not really a socialist, but I posit there is less evil in that ideology than there is in modern capitalism (and lets not forget that capitalism was born out of early Socialist thought, itself an offshoot of Liberalism). Oh, and Conseravtism isn't so much an ideology as it is a lack of ideology (though conservatism is an ideology). No, here I can rant a little autistically, and I feel the need to in this case.

Tilly raised the possibility of getting a tattoo this evening, the drum beat of the title, which is fine. I said "I don't really know what I'd think of you having another tattoo". She replied: "You don't have to think anything, it would be my decision."

It's not mine to wear clothes designed for women, that can be removed and require no permanent changes, but making permanent and public changes are her preserve to do as she wishes. I smell double standards at work here.

Except we don't share a bed.
Hell, we don't share a room.
Tilly's the man, BTW.
Because, you know, I needed to explain
I have no issues with her having another tattoo, but her dismissive response drove home a point I've been mulling over for a few days vis a vis our lack of sex life. She was essentially saying that because I wouldn't see it, on her arm, very often I shouldn't really care. She's right. I haven't seen her in a state of undress since the birth of our son and in sexual state of undress I haven't seen her since a few months before we conceived our daughter (the lights are firmly off when sex does happen, at her insistence - she isn't a fan of seeing me naked or me seeing her naked). I shouldn't complain, but it's nearly been two years since our last sexual encounter, itself very much about stopping me complaining (I still burn a bit at her explanation of it as "I only had sex with you to make sure you didn't complain about it having been two years.") and, apart from that, there was the week when we conceived the Boy - well, three days - and that was all about having a second child. It was unfulfilling and mechanistic sex for procreation, with her buggering off after climax and returning an hour or two later and no foreplay at all. Before that we have to go back another two plus years to find some decidedly aggressive sex with neither of us really bothering about the other. Making love? I think we stopped doing that when Tilly moved in back in 2007.

I've babbled about that before here. I guess I still labour under the misapprehension that women want more emotional sex. That there is fun to be had aside from the act of penetration. But I'm a man, what do I know? A quick shag is all we men want, right? Dirty and swift - cum and it's all over, turn over and go to sleep. I don't understand why anyone would want that. I always thought that there would be room for play, for intimacy and for experimentation in the bedroom. Silly me. A few minutes of missionary and we're done here. Anything else is creepy. This from a woman who is, or was, bisexual. I can't work out what else has caused this shift in her appetite or the continued refusal to do anything about it beyond the odd hug here and there - we don't even kiss these days - apart from me.

Ah, plus ca change. Have some music.

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All comments are welcome, I have a thicker skin virtually than I do in real life!