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!

Friday, 9 May 2014


From dead of night / till break of day / endless thoughts and questions keep me awake / it's much too late.

Where've you been? / Who've you seen? / You didn't phone when you said you would. / Do you lie? / Do you try / to keep in touch / you know you could / I've tried to see your point of view but could not hear or see for / Jealousy.

All this quiet and all this complaining and off-loading. I'm jealous. Of course I'm jealous. I haven't been able to actually sit and write anything recently because I just haven't felt in the mood. I've had time and the opportunity but instead I have been my usual self-destructive self and spent the evening fruitlessly and shiftlessly trawling the internet for nothing in particular. I am very aware that, if clothes maketh the man, I'm 2004 most of the time (or earlier) and could never be described as fashionable. Basically, I can't be arsed to do anything and so currently have no gumption.

Once, in the far distant past, I identified with the chant in I'm Not Scared on the Pet Shop Boys's album Introspective:
If I was you / if I was you / I wouldn't treat me the way you do
If I was you / if I was you / I wouldn't treat me the way you do / you

If I was you / if I was you / I wouldn't treat me the way you do
If I was you / if I was you / I wouldn't treat me the way you do / you
But now I do not. Not at all.

Tilly uses an obnoxious pink netbook and tends to
be older than 12 with no flat cap... you get the idea
See, when Tilly writes she really gets into it. Like most of the things that she does she can attack it with gusto and her whole being until the job is done. She displays tenacity and staying power of a scale I can only dream and with the panache that makes it look like there's no effort expended on her part. Along with this, she also possesses the skill to balance this with looking after the children. The fruits of her labours, meanwhile, get a good reception. Those who read her work, and they read it, ask for more. Very few people have read anything I have written since 1996. My parents both gave up about then, and hadn't exactly been complimentary before that point, and very few other people have read anything I've written. That includes anonymous forums. Very few have ever given any feedback, let alone positive feedback. Mostly people read out of politeness and then say "huh, it's alright" or "It's not my kind of thing" if they say anything at all. So, yes, there is envy there.

Though, in fairness, this tops anything
that a male can do. Most male parts do
tend to look like they ought to hanging
out of a shark's mouth.
When Tilly tries a new look, clothing or hair or make up or whatever, she gets complimented and encouraged. Firstly by me and then, also, by others. These compliments and encouragement are usually unsolicited, because people notice what Tilly is doing and they tend to like it. I am apt to pay her compliments when I spot her wearing a different combination, or even an old one really well, and I am committed to doing so because, dammit, everyone deserves that now and again. Also, she looks pretty damn' good most of the time and I appreciate the effort she takes. If I try new clothes most people don't notice and Tilly tends to shrug, when asked or pressed for comment, and say things like "It's not up to me" or "It doesn't really matter what I think" which is code, I think, for "you look like a tit." I don't blame anyone for that. When I try to grow out my beard I get nothing, apart from my children complaining about the hair and refusing to let me kiss them. When I trim my beard I get nothing, apart from students pointing out I have less beard and my children refusing to let me kiss them because it scratches. When I shave it off completely, like tonight, Tilly laughs and points out that "I don't like it when you look twelve" and the children won't let me kiss them because I look strange.

Ever alone when reading, that's me.
If Tilly reads a book and she likes it, she can talk to her friends about it and they will join in, even if they've not read the book. If Tilly recommends it, her friends will read the book. They will discuss it and dissect it and analyse it. Hell, I'll read books that Tilly recommends. She will rip through them at speed and with enjoyment that I haven't known since 2001. Friends will lend her books, buy them as presents 'just because' and not just at birthdays and Christmas. On those occasions, Tilly will get exactly what she wants from me and her family and friends either because she expressly asks or because people actually seem to care about her reaction to gifts. When I read a book people instantly recoil from it as my taste is "strange" or "heavy" even if they were previously going to read it. If I recommend a book I will get some gentle teasing but no one will read it. If someone else has read it, they will not deign to discuss it or analyse it or dissect it - can't we just enjoy it for what it is. This goes for anything that Tilly reads that I pass on too. When gifts happen they are rare and are usually based on the need to buy a gift - I am a man, it is less important that I like my gift, the importance is in the giving.

Tilly spends time most evenings with a friend online, they write together - essentially writing fanfiction cross-overs of their now joint universe in which Tilly's novel is set with characters from their own devising. In the meantime, she talks to her friends on Facebook and has long involved discussion. I haven't spoken in real time to people online like that since sometime around the birth of our first child. No one has ever shared a universe with me or written with me despite my asking. No one really cares for my universes anyway - they are too technical, soulless or, as I increasingly suspect, just plain boring.

If Tilly is worried about putting on weight or being unattractive in anyway, I (and others) can reassure her that she is not unattractive or fat or whatever and we can mean it (because she isn't). If she's down, even if I don't know that, I can remind her that she is clever and intelligent and fun and pretty and a host of other things. If I don't, my children will, my family will (ish) and her friends do all the time. If I am worried about putting on weight I am laughed at and then, when it is confirmed, Tilly laughs until she cries at how ridiculous I look and how my self-deprecating description of being a "pregnant stick-insect" is so close to reality. If I worry that I am unattractive I am reminded, by Tilly and most others, that I am a) a man and b) fairly unattractive anyway - you can't polish a turd. If I'm down, no one really cares to hear it in real life. I've been down so much, I guess, no one is really in the mood to hear why this time or try to offer compliments and the like to encourage some positivity. I get good comments at work now, I have an ace job, and they are generally unsought but they are still quite rare. Also... It's conditional.

The reason the Boy can do as he does and not elicit the same response as I from Tilly is because, as she pointed out, she loves her son unconditionally and will support him no matter what because of that. Her love for me is not unconditional. It will never be so, has never been so. Funny. I thought that relationships could have unconditional love without either person being a doormat, I guess I was wrong. Mind you, my upbringing didn't exactly ring with unconditional love, and still doesn't. My parents love me for what I have achieved rather than who I am or was. It's always been very clear that there are things that will result in a lessening of love. I could withdraw love from my grandmother after all, and maintained that from 1998 to the point when she died. If anything, I withdrew even more as time went on. My own brother doesn't register my  birthday at all and, this last year, has apparently decided that my children aren't to be recognised either, or Tilly. We have, of course, sent cards and gifts on his, his wife's and his daughter's but are thinking of stopping now. Basically, my brother doesn't really give a shit, and I don't blame him.

In short, I am boring and staid and boring. Tilly is not. And so I am jealous.

I want to make you happy! I guess this is how.


  1. I think being jealous of others is one of the most natural states that we can experience. I’ve never known someone that wasn’t jealous of another. Even those that I’ve looked up to and wondered how they could live such a fulfilling and wonderful life… they were jealous of others. I’d bet that you would even find those that are jealous of you.

    I’m not going to pooh pooh your depression. I’m not going to say “it will get better” or “oh, you’ll snap out of it”. But I will say that while being depressed isn’t a decision, staying depressed is. I think the hardest part is getting your energy together enough to drag you out of it. Finding something or someone that can make you crack a smile is important. Focusing on that thing or person is just as important.

    I’ve written out several paragraphs in this reply, only to delete them as they either focus on what has worked for me or just go off on some other tangent or rant… I guess what I really want to convey is that I’m sorry that you are feeling depressed. Just know that thousands of miles away across the Atlantic there is someone cheering you on wanting nothing more than for you to feel happy. And if it helps at all, feel free to picture me in a cure cheerleader’s outfit, pom pom’s waving and red hair flying.

    BTW… I’m that person. Not some other random American. That would just be awkward :)

    1. Thank you!

      Yes, I know what you mean about choice and depression. And, yes, I know that everyone is jealous of someone else. Don't worry, I wasn't suggesting that the jealousy alone was the problem (though it's still a bad idea, best not to be jealous).

      Thank you for the cheering, it does help to know that, it really does!


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