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!

Tuesday, 19 December 2017


How rustic and C17th.
Parents, eh, who'd 'ave 'em? Well, it turns out, me. My mother and her husband were up on the Sunday and we went out for a meal before seeing our eldest in her nativity. I say we... I went out with my mother and her husband taking the two eldest, Tilly opted to stay at home as having a meal wold have been a bridge too far for the smallest. Then, when we got back, Tilly took the eldest off to the last rehearsal. When we rejoined Tilly to view the nativity, she took herself and the smallest off elsewhere rather than try to sit with us. After that, she shooed us off home whilst she got the last bits with the eldest, to return home just as my mother and her husband were leaving. Then it was straight to bed.

Add an extra child. Minus sunshine. Add fog and biting
cold. Make the smallest scream and piss and moan.
Take away any kind of hope of happiness and a pleasant
journey but add in the fear of the alternative.

Then... maybe.
Monday was the day we had set aside to see my father and his wife. Tilly had arranged to travel down by train as the smallest cries until he is sick in the car at the moment, and that's no good for anyone's nerves. However, she still wanted the car in case we had to leave for any reason. This meant I was home an hour longer than the rest of the family - time to sort out some washing and change the bed-sheets - and then drove down alone to meet them at the station closest to my father's. The meal went well, I was in the kitchen mostly helping my father cook and then wash up whilst Tilly was with the smallest and my father's wife. Then I dropped them off at the station and headed home. I arrived earlier than them, did some basic maintenance and then they got back and went to bed.

The offending articles. I have this very
I asked for clarification on the conversation we had had on Friday. And it was clarified. The 'Concession' (Tilly's euphemism for my being able to wear what underwear I liked) precludes any hope of ever returning to the physical. She is concerned that she will lose what we do have - the ability to keep a family, for her to talk to me about interesting things and have someone to whom to pass childcare on occasion - but beyond that there is nothing that she wants. Issues from the birth of the smallest mean that physical concerns of a sexual nature are far beyond her at the moment and likely to remain relatively unimportant. She lacks the headspace for anything like that and, frankly, always has. Tilly revealed that the only reason we did anything remotely sexual was because of me.

And I was right. Yes, things had been set up with no 'win' condition for me regarding relationship and sex because she was basically screaming at the Aspie part of me - railing against the difficulty of doing, well, anything with me of a relationship manner. Children, and a fear of the unknown, was all that really remained between us and I shouldn't expect anything more. I'd essentially lost that opportunity long ago, no particular point, but sometime between us getting together and it becoming clear that I had ASD. Tilly kept returning to the idea that things shouldn't be as hard as they are between us and that I shouldn't expect things to ever improve. I pressed for a decision because, you know what, I still want to make this work.

Well I never.
From the beginning I have tried to be honest, I have tried to respond to what Tilly wanted. Of course I have. I have always assumed that is what love is. My very limited relationship history was full of enough failure that I was blown away by Tilly in the beginning. For all my ranting and railing on here, I still held out, perhaps even hold out, the hope that things will improve. That, somehow, I can do enough to actually get something from a relationship that allows me to feel some fulfillment or, whisper it quietly, gratification. As an ageing cross-dresser with ASD I do not see much, if any, chance of achieving any of this elsewhere and, to be blunt, I don't really want to have sex with anyone else - I kinda thought I'd made my choice on that score and I thought I'd not only done due diligence but was prepared, am still prepared, to work at it.

I can relate.

But, you see, life should not be as hard as it is with me.
Tilly would not be drawn. The 'open relationship' model was scary to her, and she was unlikely to avail herself of it because of the health issues following the birth of the smallest, but more likely than aspiring to what her cousin has, for example. That would be a relatively healthy sex-life with some actual lovey-dovey-ness wrapped in a no-nonsense approach to being a married couple. She views sex as an end-point, not as something to be worked on but something that will occur naturally when all other things are more or less in place. She, further, does not believe that we can ever actually have all other things, or even most other things, more or less in place. Conversations were supposed to be easy and they are not with me.

Completely unnecessary.

Also, I tend to respond badly to them by denying that
they apply to me. So, that means none also.

Also, remember that image of the articles?

It's offensive.
I had asked about compliments. She did not accept I gave her any, nor did she accept that they were necessary. I was, she opined, trying to use a checklist from a teenage magazine approach to relationships. No, she did not compliment my appearance because there was no point, I didn't like my appearance and thus any compliment was unnecessary and unhelpful. I tried to explain that it made me think I wasn't attractive to her. I was told that was irrelevant and further evidence of how hard it is to live with me because that isn't how most relationships work. Besides, The Concession made it hard to think of me like that anyway.

Pretty much Tilly.

Pretty much the whole time.

Just been reading this site you see.
Moving on, I asked if it were time for me to "cry and attempt to move on" given all that she had said or whether there was still hope. Tilly said she'd been crying and attempting to move on for a decade already. Yes, sharp-eyed reader, that does date it from before we got married. We agreed that couples therapy would be worthwhile, if only to try and get an answer about where we go from here. However, she was careful to point out that we needed someone who was versed in ASD people too lest it end up being all about her being unreasonable. Now that my diagnosis was official she could finally put a name to the scream that she had been screaming all that time as "AAAAAAA ASPIE!" Like she said, she did not sign up for this (one wonders what she did sign up for), and I had to be prepared to find out that what she needs is just someone to do occasional child-care, wash the toilet and bath now and again, make lunches in a morning and ensure that the pots are done. That's really all she can see as far as her needs go.

Lovely shoes though, right?
Realising that I was getting nowhere by being subtle I pointed out that I had needs too. She knew but that wasn't her concern., I had asked about her needs. The unspoken part was, of course, that she had not asked about mine and The Concession was about my needs. She had previously offered hand-jobs and then they had stopped. In her mind this was because I had stopped caring and stopped trying, we both ran out of consistency. I'll admit that I recall it simply being that she got busy with her book and then was asleep when I got to bed or we ran out of evening and she warned me 'not tonight' enough that I stopped asking, but perceptions are a fool's game - I know that much. Also, being ASD, one cannot really trust nor use my perceptions. Then we went to bed.

The drive to and from my father's was really one of my lowest points. It was similar, though not as bad, as the drive to work the day after Toby finally pulled the trigger on our relationship. On that drive I had played You Choose by the Pet Shop Boys by accident and had to pull over because I blubbing too hard to actually drive safely. I didn't blub yesterday, but I got pretty close. Luckily, I don't have that song on mp3. Relationships, repeated Tilly this morning, shouldn't have to be this difficult and the fact that ours is stands as testament to the idea that it isn't working and is unlikely to work in the future.

It is my hope to announce my ASD officially at some point to people that know me (my friend who reads this excepted, as they already know) so that I can create a book of dates with people's birthdays and anniversaries in it, I hope to up my game in that regard. And, you know, being able to wear knickers has been rather nice these last few days, can't say I haven't enjoyed it.

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