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, 31 May 2017


This blog is about the aspirations to that highest of emotions: Happiness. So I shall start with the good news. Dee made a caption for me, sorta, and it is lovely and brilliant and well-made (as are all of the captions she makes) and I can't and won't do anything less that say good things about it! I mean, you probably know how electrifying it is to see something with your name in it in fiction generally, when you can identify with the story and the character a little more because of something as simple and effective as a shared name. Hard to contemplate why that should make a difference but it really, really does. There's something deep to be said about that, I imagine, but I am not the one to say it. Being AS and reading what that means still is fascinating and suggests that people are more likely to identify with characters without the necessity of having one's name in there - simply by dint of recognising one's own approaches and actions (or, in the famous cases of Bella and the one in Fifty Sheds, by dint of the main character having no discernible emotions and reactions, allowing a reader to import their own).

I digress, the point is that there was a caption made and my name was shoved in there and it elicited a series of lovely feelings, because that is how easily influenced I am.

None of this though.

No, I don't get it either.
Speaking of such things, I was delighted to read Terri's May update in which it was shared that clothing had been purchased and worn on day-to-day errands and jobs. That sort of thing is to be commended, politely and without fanfare, because it is just so normal and lovely. So, I'd take my hat off but for the fact that the only one I own is a Soviet police hat and it's hot and it resides at my place of work so I'm not wearing it. Even a friend of mine sharing a very interesting link about men and penises on the Book of Faces gave food for thought as well as providing evidence that, now we are the men, we get to set the idea of what masculinity is and the article suggests that there is much work to be done in removing the barriers of thinking around the male organ and how people perceive their relationship with it. I shall be honest, having a penis means that I am occasionally called upon to look at it and that means I have some views on it.


I'm hairier on the legs. Also, that hand position...

Can't say I recognise it. But, then, I get the impression
that I am somewhat abnormal in this regard.
I can't speak for the penises of others as I haven't really memorised or remembered seeing all that many penises either at school or otherwise. I mean, there were shared changing facilities in PE when I was at school and I always read about the 'japes' that would go on there - but I never recall being part of them. I went in the showers, shared, and I got dried and dressed. I do not recall ever seeing others in the shower - or, at least, not seeing their penises - nor did anyone seek to see mine. To that end I can only really comment on my own. I know that my masturbatory habits are unusual, to say the least, as I have never done more than manipulate the head of the penis and rarely, if ever, pulled back the foreskin. I mean, there was that part that joins the foreskin to the head of the penis that I recall being my first brush, ahem, with masturbation but, apart from that, I've only ever used two or three fingers (including the thumb) to get to the brink, so to speak. I understand that most people use their whole hand and use an actual grip along the shaft. I have also heard that many people with a penis prefer to be stimulated from the bottom up too. I cannot comment on that, it does not work for me.

More after the break, but no images.

Which beings me, in part, to some of the bad in this entry. If I were hoping for a change in attitudes from Tilly to the whole aspect of sex I was to be disappointed. I was not, however, so I can simply say that I am justified in my generally downbeat thoughts. Voluntarily, this time, I am on the sofa again to allow for more comfortable feeding and bed-sharing. We tried sharing a bed but my alarms were annoying enough that it makes more sense not to wake Tilly with them. A request to talk about sex in the same way we discuss politics (that is, academically) was rebuffed and I am not certain that will change. I am reminded that in all of our time together we have never really discussed things, despite my best efforts, and every compromise reached has been ignored and we've gone back to the starting positions once again.

Case in point: children. I made it clear, on numerous occasions, that I did not wish for a third child. I even counselled abortion and I am not a fab of using that procedure. I realise that the decision was not mine in the latter case but the the former was ignored. I took part in that, being an easy dupe and generally a bit shit, but the fact remains that I was moving toward the condom when asked not to. That I acceded to the request is arguably the most damning indictment of my supine stupidity available. I am now of the opinion that I don't actually want to have sex with Tilly again, what is the point? I don't get much from it and it's never been about me or my desires. I mean, I could probably argue it's never been about her or her desires either, to be fair, and so I come back to: what is the point? I get more from my, frankly, strange masturbatory methods and I can do that with little input. Getting all wound up and upset over the fact that we've never shared a shower, for example, is ridiculous. For one, we never will share a shower in that sense, it's not going to happen. Bathing together is a bad joke and will never happen. That sort of playful interaction has never been a feature nor will ever be a feature of our relationship. On the one side there is Tilly's refusal to countenance such actions and, on the other, my AS-inspired inability to make them mean anything emotionally to anyone but me.

In short, I cannot supply an emotional connection to physical actions nor the requisite feeling from compliments verbal and otherwise, so there is little expectation of any physical interaction that would be anything more than mechanical. I cannot provide for a more emotionally connected physical or verbal interaction, nor can I comfort and empathise, so what is the point? Stop trying to do that which I cannot, that which Tilly has repeatedly said she no longer expects me to provide, and let everything else take its course. That will mean no sex for the foreseeable and that which we do have will remain robotic and unsatisfying to both of us. She won't sleep with other people and neither will I. Her through choice and me through the fact that I am no good at social interaction. The idea of me being attractive enough to anyone else (physically or emotionally) is so laugh-out-loud ridiculous at this point I daren't or my fat-enhanced stomach won't stop rolling for weeks.

Thus to the final section in the soup of shit in which I swim. I don't actually like my daughter. She's been sneaking sugary snacks of a morning, resulting in increasingly unhinged displays of stupidity, for some time. She's basically been stealing stuff from her brother and mother and been getting away with it for a while. Coupled with her own aspie tendencies this has meant that she has simply not been carrying out simple tasks such as keeping her room at a modicum of tidiness to not attract rats or maintaining her bag for dance etc. The long and the short of it is that she lied to me to my face and then has continued to do so ever since. Tilly has got to the bottom of things, displaying just how deep the lying to me goes, and she, my daughter, continues to lie. I'll be honest, I have no idea what to do here.

The blame for this cannot fall on my daughter, by the way, she is raised with these things and not born with them. I must assume the mantle of blame, inasmuch as any can be assigned, because I am the adult in the relationship and she operates within the parameters that I have set around that relationship. In other words, her lying to me is a choice that she felt she could make based on the fact that I provided lying as an option.

Nevertheless, when talking to Tilly about this I am often met with statements that I am the same and asked what I expect when I have gifted all of our children with aspie-ness. I am reminded that I tell Tilly not to get too angry by being told that I am out of order or that I am worse in the behaviour being displayed and that is why I am angry. I was told that I lied worse than my daughter to my wife, yes she was referring to cross-dressing, on multiple occasions and much more insidiously and nastily than my daughter lies to me. I was told that I react worse when challenged as I lash out and say things that are reprehensible whereas at least our daughter only moves to meaningless apologies. I was told that I was more prone to do nothing and do little in the way of jobs around the house like tidying up than my daughter.

Keep in mind that we've now got a friend round to do the cleaning once a fortnight and that, since the birth of our third child, it's been me doing the washing and drying as well as making lunches for everyone every morning before leaving for work. I still do the chinchilla and the pots, by the way, and now add the garden to that list since getting a lawn-mower last year. I'm not saying I do more than my fair share, or even my share, of the work around the house but I resent the idea that I am so ineffective that nothing matters. Maybe nothing does.

This is precisely what I predicted would happen with a third child. It was what Tilly set out to refute when trying to get me to agree to having a third child by telling me that things would be different. They are not. It is as I predicted. And, because I am a shit parent, I don't actually like my eldest.

I've said it before, ad nauseam, and my own culpability won't stop me saying it again: I did not want things to turn out the way they have. Mistake has compounded on mistake has compounded on mistake. It is not just that I feel as though my views have been irrelevant it is that my views have actually been irrelevant. I didn't want a pet but we got one, and I wanted a pet that wouldn't still be alive in five years, our pet is eleven and counting. I didn't want a first child but we had one, and I didn't really want to have a third but we had that too. I asked for changes in sex and compromised on dressing up in 2014 and now it is three years on and no moves have been made in that direction. Despite a thaw where we almost made it to the average of twice a year sexy times we're now rapidly retreating from that and are unlikely to push it back.

Back when Tilly was dumping me for my behaviour in a club (I hid and then got defensive when she tried to drag me onto the dance floor - and by defensive I mean rude) I should have let her do it. I could have wallowed a bit in self-pity and cried a bit, then thrown myself back into work. I would still have savings, I would still have a small car, I would most likely still live in Leeds. Two less autistic children would be in the world and Tilly would have been happier with someone who was more emotionally open and effective. I'd still be lonely, but I see the trouser-hole of time variant as having a net-improved result.

It's why I'm not a fan of It's a Wonderful Life because if you took me out of the frame as they do with thingummy in that film you would end up with a better life for everyone involved.


  1. Oh, Joanna, my heart breaks for you. It is interesting that you see yourself as the culprit in this drama. Tilly is cruel and manipulative. She hasn't a kind word for you except when she needs your seed. To then fault you on the quality of that seed is unspeakable. As insensitive as it seems, you really must start getting any concessions from her in writing. She has a very convenient habit of forgetting agreements.

    I understand the lying thing is not an attractive trait in your daughter, but don't take the blame on that. Lying is something that virtually every human does. It is a developmental stage. My aspie boy was bluntly honest in reporting his transgressions till he was twelve or thirteen. Finally, he started lying about his schoolwork being done. Milestone! And Tilly would do well to notice the lies she tells you when she reneges on things.

    Thinking of you, sister. Try to keep muddling if you can, and know that you are contributing much to your household and family.


    1. I haven't much to say in response, but thank you. So, thank you.



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