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!

Thursday, 15 January 2015

How I met your mother...

Welcome to a new reader, lovely to know you're here and reading, genuinely!

This new reader was badly misled by me on G+. There I maintain an outwardly female presence with little indication that I am not. We got to talking and they offered help and advice regarding the situation with Tilly, naturally I gender-flipped, and that wasn't right. I ought to have said something sooner.

That is not the point of this post.

A bit like this I guess. She was ready for a new relationship and I looked like an interesting option compared to the guy
she was sorta kinda not dating at the time.

This is an attempted selfie in winter before I met Tilly.
It was taken on a lonely walk in the snow. It was snowing,
no way was I not walking in it.

Yes, that is a genuine Russian police hat from the 1980s USSR
and yes, I bought it in Russia.
First of all, the story of how Tilly and I met. I think it's an important part of the story that is thus far missing from this record and account. It was 2006, I had been out of the relationship with Toby for just over two years and was going on holiday to Michigan to meet with some distant family, with my mother (I know). I had also just bought a house. I had signed up to online dating at long last and actually shelled out money as I hadn't met anyone since Toby and Toby I only met because she shared a house with a childhood friend of mine who lived locally. Basically, I have never been on the dating scene and was feeling incredibly lonely. In order to get six months' free you had to send five notes to people a month. So far, five months in, I had not received a note and all the women I had contacted had either blocked me (which I thought a bit harsh) or simply gone inactive. I sent my five before going on holiday to save some time.

A scene from that holiday.
On holiday I checked e-mails and was amazed to discover a response. We exchanged a few messages and I was amazed that an actual attractive woman was paying attention. When I returned we messaged further, exchanged e-mails and spoke on MSN messenger (oh those were the days). I went to see her at her end, it seemed safer for her, and I was astounded by her. We got on like a house on fire. My car exploded, preventing me from over-analysing the situation on the way home, and we agreed to meet again in a city equidistant from us both. This we did, near some friends of mine, and had a lovely day. I invited her back to mine, she accepted, and we had a bizarre but, frankly, intriguing night. After that I visited her a couple of weekends on the trot and she came over to make jelly. I explained that I cross-dressed, she explained that she was bisexual. It was a good time.

The hotel room we stayed that night. I took this whilst she
was having a shower. The roses, she loves roses, were
intended as a surprise. I got them in yellow deliberately
(she preferred pink) to represent us joining (yellow is me).
I arranged a romantic getaway to a romantic city with a four-poster bed. We both knew what we were building towards. I have related the story of that night a few times before, but to recap - we had sex, I didn't climax and we barely left the room. She went to a convention, I went back to work. We met a few more times, me going to see her, and we arranged a Christmastime set of trips to meet one another's parents. It went okay at my end but at hers things frayed a little. I over-reacted in a club to being out of my comfort zone and frightened and she said it was the end of the relationship. In the morning we drove home and I had my say (having let her rant unabated since the incident). I said I thought we had something worth saving that I would be happy to fight to save.

The bedroom into which she moved. We changed the bed
direction to accommodate her wardrobe.
Eventually, she agreed. We made up. I visited her a few more times. I proposed. She said yes. In a month, February, she moved in with me. She found that hard. We had sex a second time, and a third, and more. She got a job. Sex began to taper off and it was always on her initiation, mine were rebuffed without fail. She had a miscarriage at two weeks (yes, at two weeks, a day after she had confirmed that she was pregnant after testing herself twice a day since we had sex) and that's when thing started their current trajectory. We were trying to rebuild the relationship on holiday that summer when we conceived the Girlie. The rest... the rest you know.


I'm not sure what I'm hoping to achieve with this post, but here it is.

A view from some wasteground near where I lived. Taken
just after Tilly moved in and was out at work.

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