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, 6 August 2013

Let Me Be

1992. Baby D released a song that would hang around on the edges of the charts and the popular culture that I was aware of for a good few years. To the point where I cannot recall when I first saw the video for it nor when I first heard the song. It seems, to me, to be relevant.


Also, it seems to deliberately fade into a recent Pet Shop Boys track, or rather vice versa, and since you all know what a fangirl I am of them then I guess that makes a lot of sense.


Of course, this track, in turn, seems to borrow heavily from a Pet Shop Boys B-Side released with Winner whose video was relevant to my interests at least, even if I find the track a little weak. Much like I found Later Tonight to be one of the weakest tracks on Actually but most fans seem to find it one of the best on the album, including my father. Meh.

Apparently there is no YouTube video of that particular track either so you'll just have to take my word for it as I lack the facility to make my own videos at present, which is a shame. My colleague had such a facility which he used for an outing for our Year 8s with Vikings but that is a story for another time. I promise you that none of this was the point of this post. That follows after the line break.


I have spoken of this before: here. One of my better posts actually. This post follows on.

Still me. Yes, I can still remember wearing it
too, one of the few times I found a top
that I felt comfortable in.
No, seriously.
Back in the summer of 2006, I think, there was the small matter of a bet between Catherine and the rest of our group of friends online that she could get me into a dress. It was a bet that only she and I knew that she would win and win handsomely. Most people assumed that I was too straight-laced and repressed to even contemplate it and so the inevitable caving was a surprise to most of my group of friends. It was also about the time that I learned that dressing was not just a sexual act. Let me explain.

For as long as I have had sexual fantasies they have revolved around two themes: bondage and cross-dressing. They did this before I knew the difference between sexual fantasy and day-dream and they did this before I even knew what the names were for what I was imagining. I had harboured the desire to be a princess (context: the character, Nick, is a former human male geek gamer who now identifies as a helicopter [he actually resides within a tilt rotor VTOL Osprey aircraft] piloting a gynoid waldo on a field mission) long enough that I just assumed that it was a background noise. Apparently I share a lot in common with many commentators and geeks on the web, but still, there was no one else in my group of friends or contemporaries that suggested this was a widely held belief. Certainly I assumed I was the only one on the grounds that no one else wanted to do it - or at least didn't share. Not in the sense that I found it shameful or anything, just that I was autistic enough to decide that no one needed, nor wanted, to know. I guess I was right in that regard.

Are we spotting a theme yet? I think I can reasonably
link this to my fascination for Penny in Inspector Gadget
and my odd love of Penelope Pitstop in Wacky Races
too.
Throughout my formative years then I was 'into' cross-dressing and bondage. My toys had back-story, because I was also a sad sack writer as a child, and that involved Ruff getting captured and escaping, but still with rope around his wrists, to lead a rebellion against the Bear Army. I would have been 7 or 8 when I created that one. I loved the part of the 80s cartoons when the hero was caught and detained, especially Teela or She-Ra. Hell, I loved She-Ra more than I loved He-Man for exactly the same reason that Catherine, of all people, didn't like it: She-Ra was He-Man for girls. I liked Rainbow Brite and CareBears too. I wanted to be the protagonist in Tall Knight's Folly when I was 8 or 9 (yes, she was a strong 80s female character from the UK, think Ace in Doctor Who, to whom I also looked up in 1989). There was an episode of Thundercats when they were weakened and captured and I loved it. In Defenders of the Earth there was the niece of the Phantom who I crushed on in the sense that I would quite happily been her if I were magically transported into the TV (yes, that was something I actively thought about at the time). I loved the fact that Flash Gordon's wife was trapped in the computer of their home base too, that seemed pretty cool and I wanted to be her in a way too. All of this seems to confirm that this cross-dressing and bondage thing stretches far back into my past and pre-dates any kind of sexual urges that may have accompanied it.

He's never been out of his box,
but the note was the real present.
Everything that note
represented is dear to me.
I'll be honest here, I tried to enjoy the dressing in that pink dress at Catherine's sexually. I did. I was given plenty of space and time to get dressed and deal with the 'embarrassment' and 'shame' of it. I used that time. I can say that there were physical effects but, and here's the thing, they weren't enough to 'get me off'. Not even slightly. I was excited. But I learned then that this was simply charged excitement. A sexual element, yes, but that was only actually a very small part of what I felt at the time. Exiting the bathroom and posing for pictures showed me that I was actually very comfortable with the whole affair. Catherine said that no one could have looked like that and posed for pictures unless they were enjoying it. And I was. I loved the choice beforehand, if I'm honest, and would have happily played dress-up for the rest of the evening. Hell, if Catherine had have offered I suspect I would have worn the dress on the following day too. But she didn't. She did offer to lend me the dresses, through Tilly, when I introduced Tilly to Catherine and her husband before any of us had children. Tilly claims not really to remember that particular offer, but I remember that she emphatically turned it down and ignored the present that Christmas from Catherine that hinted at my love of cross-dressing. It is a present (action figure of Captain Jack of Doctor Who fame with a hand-written note that said something like: "Period dress is not the fashion choice of a straight man, now, dresses on the other hand...") that I still treasure. The hand-written note is still attached and will likely remain so. It currently resides in a carefully constructed alcove of my wardrobe. I think it made Tilly uncomfortable when it was out and on display. At least this way she can pretend like it doesn't exist.

Deviance in action.
Yes, I know, it's a patriarchal fantasy that suggests that
women, though apparently in control of their sexuality
are drawn to submissiveness whilst simultaneously telling
women that submission is a form of control.
It's the filmic equivalent of Fifty Shades of Grey but
inifinitely better at being erotica.
One of the things that Tilly said during that summer when we did speak of my cross-dressing, before my confession that I wore knickers to my grandmother's birthday meal put the kibosh on that particular sharing (by making it clear that my cross-dressing was ongoing and live rather than something I had 'grown out of' previously), was that I simply needed to spend a night doing seedy sexual acts to get over my compulsions and addictions. I disagreed with her. At the time this was simply out of fidelity, out of my own self-imposed rule that I would sleep with only one person. However, it is deeper and more fundamental than that. I readily accept that my monogamy is entirely a matter of choice for me, one I believe to be advantageous and a Good Thing but accept that not everyone agrees. I think my Favourite Imaginary Friend agrees too, so that's a bonus. Anyway, on a fundamental level, I realise that the concept presupposes that the whole point of bondage and cross-dressing, to me, is to 'get off' sexually. And my thinking on this is that, well, no, it isn't. Nor is it a desire to be a woman, at least not in any sense that is actually achievable, based on yesterday's post about clothing and the like.

Every single one of my favourite tropes about
femininity is here. Every. Single. One.
It is, apparently, an image of sexual purity.
I'd be happy to go with a picture of a woman with flowers
in her hair.
When I met up with my teacher friend and his wife to see my godchild that time they said that I did not rate a ping on their kink-dar. When talking with my ex-boss and another colleague they presumed, despite my very clear knowledge of sexual terms, that I was innocent and generally very pure and vanilla as they tried to embarrass me with tales of sexual acts. My mad-ex Toby said that one of the reasons she found me so attractive was my strong faith and my apparent 'pure as the driven snow' outlook on life. Throughout our relationship she consistently believed that I was innocent and pure in a way that suggested she was going to corrupt me despite the fact that I could not only take the dirty conversation but I could drag it down much further than most other people in the room. At University I remember talking to an older domme on a BBS and she assuming that I was innocent and fragile despite the fact that I could regularly match her for filth in conversations and despite the fact that I knew more about the BDSM scene online than she did. At school Jeremy and I had conversations via Word document on a girl's account (she supplied us with the password for this purpose) so that she could read what we said when she had a moment. Both of us discussed sex in terms that Men Behaving Badly would have understood, in other words explicit but in a jokey sense, and she enjoyed what we did. Jeremy always treated me as the innocent one, the straight man if you will, and the girl in question concurred even though it was me that brought the filth to the conversation.

Yeah, pretty much.
All of that, I don't understand. I have always stood for no sex before marriage, which may have had something to do with it, something that was broken with my wife. I had sex before we were married but I largely believed that we would get married. I maintain that this was just a development of what I had been saying all along - the importance of a single life-sex partner - but many saw that as a climb-down. I don't blame them. I was once threatened with physical harm and assault by two women for daring to suggest that I would happily wait for sex. I went out of my way to say that this was just my choice and that I had no worries with others thinking differently. I was pressed and pressed and eventually said that I just wanted to be one flesh with one other person. It was my belief and I did not mind if others did not share it. My future wife, I said, didn't even have to agree, it was a personal thing. This was enough for me to 'judging them' and 'insulting them' and got me threatened with a beating, we had to leave that party.

I digress. I can't even remember what my point was with all of this. I guess it just stands as a record of... something.

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