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, 4 May 2014


Not a bad cosplay actually.


I have now finally seen the film Frozen and I can see what all the fuss was about. Certainly there is absence of any rescuing by any princes and, this time, a one-day love affair has about the effects you'd expect and is replaced by the beginning of a love affair that is left without any particular resolution. Indeed, the question of  whether or not this second go at a relationship is actually true love is left very much unanswered and only just asked. It is a musical, however, and very much within the genre and so if musicals aren't your thing then I would suggest keeping well away. Tilly prefers Tangled and the children, who did enjoy the romp, are in the same camp. Me? Well, I'm not too certain. Coming hot on the heels of me watching Fight Club and getting back into My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic it is hard for me to appreciate the film soley on its merits and so I remain totally uncertain.

In the car I have been listening to the rediscovered CD of the Kasabian album West Ryder Lunatic Asylum, itself a present from Tilly's friend to the Boy for no particular reason. I have to confess that I had forgotten just how much I enjoy the album and the embedded references to revolution. There are plenty of clever little touches such as "Run down, o run down old houses / feeding the cats to the mouses" or "Held off and called on by truncheons / rattling keys to the dungeons" from Take Aim. Also, "I got my / cloak and dagger in a bar-room brawl / see the local loves a fighter / loves a winner to fall" in Underdog or "Cannot see the signs of a real change comin' / take another sip of this hobo's wine / get yourself a million miles / from this concrete jungle" in Where did all the love go? But they remain playful and silly throughout with references like the spoken word poem: "Then I went down into the basement / where my friend the maniac busies himself with his electronic graffiti. / Finally, his language touches me / because it talks to the part of us that insists on drawing profiles on prison walls. / In that moment, poetry will be made by everyone / and emus will be in the zone" at the start of West Ryder Silver Bullet.

Tomorrow my father comes to visit. Last time we went there we were faced with some challenges to the fact that our children don't really sit at a table to eat. It is not something they do. Naturally they did try their nomadic ways and with my father's wife trying to get Girlie to eat by referring to her tendency to eat small amounts in one sitting (entirely invented by the wife and not matching reality) meant that Girlie lived down to expectations. Thing is, they get so excited by the concept of visiting my father and is wife that our children don't eat much - they can't sit still long enough! At home we're used to this, they will eat perfectly happily and in large quantities but very much at their pace and in their own time. They graze. I am very much okay with all of this - they self-regulate their appetites and have a very healthy relationship with food. Furthermore, the Boy can sometimes be indistinct. Some physical thing means that he is about six months behind his peers in speech and enunciation. That said, his vocabulary and sentence construction is about a year ahead of his peers - you just have to tune in to hear him properly. My father and his wife keep wanting us to go to a speech therapist and claim that they can't understand him. They will happily ignore him counting to ten in front of them, explaining pictures in rhyme or just patiently finding ways round words that he can't properly say by explaining things in multiple ways or with analogies. Basically, we have a stressful afternoon ahead. Joy. Just what we wanted on a Bank Holiday.

Unexpectedly today, Tilly actually initiated a kiss on the lips this morning. I was so totally not expecting it that I completely fucked it up and missed. She did it a second time and I made the most of the opportunity and the direction provided. That was it. It left me reflecting on how little I expect and how much that little will change my mood these days. I can't decide if that is sad or pathetic or good. I really can't. But, on a day with friends round, Tilly spent most of the time with them. At this stage I think I'd be more than happy for her to have an affair if not just for her to find someone she didn't mind physical contact with. I don't exactly cut a handsome figure and have never really been attractive. She, on the other hand, remains very attractive.

I do compliment her. These are spontaneous and she often takes my breath away both in terms of physical appearance (sometimes when she's just thrown things on and sometimes when she's really put an effort in but mostly in an everyday sense) and in terms of her thoughtful observations on things. I love the fact that she is more intelligent than I and that we can have deep philosophical discussions about films, TV, Disney, History, Politics and the state of the nation. She can analyse a news item as much as, or more than, I and we can happily riff on one another when it comes to political observations. She can bake better than I, cook better than I with a wider range of recipes - something she has learnt to do since moving in with me. Her writing is better than mine - I haven't read it, but when she sends her writing to people she gets feedback and requests for more. When I send writing to people I get a one line response and I have never been asked for more. Most of my friends treat reading what I write as something of a chore. I must therefore conclude that Tilly is better at writing.

And all of this means that I punched well above my weight when I somehow managed to get married to this woman. It is, perhaps, unsurprising that we don't really enjoy a physical relationship. She is so far out of my league that doing anything with me requires her to step down quite a distance. To convince herself to kiss me, a bearded hobo-looking freak with all my sexual hang-ups and cross-dressing, must be akin to me debating causes of the First World War with a seven year old. Sex is a bit like offering a pity-fuck. She wasn't a virgin when we met and had had sex with at least three males and a couple of females by the time we did it together. She claims not to miss it. But that's the thing, I don't think she does miss sex with me.

Still, the teenager in me reminds me that she kissed me today.

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