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!

Wednesday, 19 August 2015

Don't Open That Trapdoor!

...cos there's something down there!



I rather like this silhouette actually. In many ways it is
less objectifying than picking an actual woman to identify
with, you know, like I do in my avatar.
One of the things, the tenets, of this place is that it is run as a safe place where I can say anything and everything honestly and truthfully, regardless of how that makes me look in the eyes of the world. It is sometimes gritty, sometimes glaring, rarely edifying and always brutal. To that end I have made a great deal of my anonymity - that is, preventing people from know me in the real world from knowing about this secret and safe place. I mean, they may know I have a secret blog but they don't know the location or the address nor any inkling as to the content so that they can't pull a little light stalking and find the place.

This has allowed me to transform the place that I started to ruminate on the happiness that I felt, however fleeting, from cross-dressing into a journal of my family and my sex-life (or lack thereof). And, even more lately, I have stopped posting regularly or, even, at all. For a whole host of reasons. Rhi, that tower of strength that she often fails to recognise in herself, pointed out that some of my recent posts had an air of resignation to them - an acceptance of how things were despite them being less than I would like and there is some truth in that. I do hope that Leslie still gets a chance to pop by as well, though I haven't heard or seen anything from that quarter in an age. So, here I am posting again, and it's been almost a full month since last time.

Apparently more and more women are drinking ale.

To be honest I think it's just that people are noticing for the
first time. I suspect women have drunk ale as much as
anyone else for a long time.

Ales have been something of a boon for my mental state in
the last year. Not through self-medication so much as giving
me a hobby to review them.
Many reasons, mostly positive. I have restarted the beer blogging for one, and found a vein of interest on the Googles that allows me to get almost the same amount of readership that this place got at the height of my posting bonanza, with fewer posts to boot and then mostly beer reviews (that started here by the way, all the early reviews were written firstly here). I have, to that end, also joined Twitter at Tilly's urging - she uses it very effectively to ramp up interest in her upcoming book and her blog in general - but have yet to see that bear any fruit. There's a new beer being brewed in the kitchen as I write this, a lovely waft of malt and yeast about it that I am looking forward to hopping. I am, as ever, avoiding work - my work-avoidance-fu remains strong and nearly insurmountable. We have also been on two mini-holidays to see family this last month, and I'm not complaining, these were good times for a change without the usual attendant feeling that I am being used to give Tilly a relaxing time. Childcare has become a very two-sided affair with the Boy being primarily my responsibility and the Girlie being hers. Also I have very deliberately been given time and space to drink and review ales in both places, being joined by Tilly on occasion.

It scares and fascinates me that people in the Lego marketing
department think that girls won't enjoy Lego unless they have
some different female avatars in pinks and such.

As a whatever-the-heck-I-am it is a little surprising that I have
no love for a female version of Lego. But, you know, I grew up
with the Lego of gender-neutrality and, given my thoughts on
my own femininity (whatever that may mean) it means that
the Lego of my youth was as much feminine as masculine.
We also stole the childhood Lego from my mother's and so I have been feverishly sorting out into sets using the instructions I can find on the internet so that my children can build them. The original instructions were thrown out by my mother during a big argument sometime after my father left - an argument ostensibly about our lack of imagination and my almost pathological zeal to follow them rather than build new things but more likely about the fact that we had stayed out with my father longer than my mother wanted us to have done and actually enjoyed it - there's a post for another time. Part of the reason for the 'stealing' is that I asked openly, my mother told me to check with my brother, and he said he had no plans to claim it but refused to give permission for me to take any on the grounds that some of it was his. So we stole it after six months of no movement. I've washed it, sorted it (well, partly) and been making the sets. It's being played with. My conscience is clear enough but the guilt remains. And the fear. My brother will not like what I have done here.

I would, of course, like to try this.
Today, Tilly took the children to a mini-superhero-picnic at a friend's house, inspired by the bigger event locally, and it was time for me to be alone in the house. I really did consider dressing but there was shopping to do, which I bollocksed up and kept having to go back for things I forgot as well as using the time to plant some raspberry bushes I bought. I was supposed to find time to mark, but I didn't. Nor did I dress. Nor did I cruise the charity shops for dresses. I have, however, been back to GetDare and BoundLife the last couple of nights.

We're approaching TMI territory, so that means a line-break is coming. I'll stop here and take it up after the line-break in a moment.

Before I do, all that guff at the beginning about anonymity and safety. This blog has been shared with someone I know in real life. They are trustworthy, my teacher-friend who I believe I have mentioned before. Turns out he and his wife were aware of my proclivities due to Catherine's picture mentioned many times and, until recently, the only photographic evidence of me having cross-dressed. This is my statement of intent - I will remain honest and open and brutal on here. My friend can be trusted to read it, comment on it and respond without divulging to anyone else. It will not affect his regard of me, of that I can be sure. And now I have recorded it here.





So, since my last post on here in July I hadn't actually done anything sexual at all. That night, rather than check on comments, I decided to let some of that pent-up sex stuff out. Now, full disclosure, my wife and I managed to get some action at the end of July but, since then, nothing. Since that night I have also not gone back to do any solo acts - and this lasted whilst we went to see my mother right the way through the following week and then the week after when we went down south to see Tilly's. It broke, again, when we got back and I was back on to GetDare and BoundLife as I referenced above. It is interesting to me that this sort of addiction, for it is, should resurface before posting here did. It is of further interest that the immersion in Dice Dares, faproulettes and the rather awesome Dice Games that dominated my time whilst marking full-tilt should almost disappear over that short time and be replaced by an almost confusion what to do solo. That is, I knew I wanted a bit of release and I knew that Tilly wasn't up for anything - whilst with my mother we slept in different rooms, in the week between she worked most evenings and was 'on' and then, down south, she was often out of the room until after I fell asleep - lots of driving.

It's that old chestnut of work. Tilly is embroiled in writing her book, as well she might be, and getting stressed about having it done on time - which I can't fault. Back at the end of the school year I was very pleased by the fact that Tilly said she wanted to spend time with me on evenings after the children had gone to bed. I thus started this holiday with something of an expectation that this would be happening. The plan was pretty simple, actually, she would cut back on writing with her buddy every other night to twice a week. The saved evenings would be spent with me, in each other's company, after the children had gone to bed. It sounded really nice. That's... not how it's gone. We had a lovely evening together whilst up at my mother's, it was around our anniversary. We even had an actual anniversary thing with take-out and a film when we were at home. And that's been it. Every other 'free' evening has been spent with her working on blog posts or her book on her laptop, sometimes in the same room but increasingly elsewhere in the house. Slowly, inexorably, we drift back to where we were.

Indeed, this post is even looking like some of the ones I was making back this time last year. I'll stop now.

2 comments:

  1. Morning! Thanks for letting me in. Reading back through some of your old stuff last night, I can easily understand the reluctance to have done so before. It would appear that there is significant overlap in our activities, proclivities and inabilities. I think our blogs will be happy bedfellows.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Good evening! You are most welcome.

      I suspect that there is much overlap in a number of areas, though you probably noted that I am more prone to self-indulgent intellectual snobbery-wallowing sympathy-onanism than yourself. Which is a fantastic phrase.

      And yes, much of the posts on this blog are far from pretty but I would value your input wherever you feel you can make it, no matter the age of the post discovered.

      Delete

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