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. 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 "Story So Far" Page above this and the "New Readers" 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, 25 September 2015

Black Butterflies

I wonder if, rather than a black dog, my own experience of
that curious lack of emotion known as Depression could be
personified by black butterflies?
This is a necessarily short post. Re-reading my recent output and reviewing recent activities I can safely say that the black dog is out again. No, I am not asking sympathy, but I am publicly acknowledging that because it has been an influence recently.

How do I know? I think this is worth recording (for myself if no other reason). I have not enjoyed an ale since late August: the time in the local without happiness last week ought to have tipped me off here, but I can now add to that the fact that tonight I have not had an ale and it has been a good day, a good week and I have had the opportunity to have one. I have managed no joy in my pootlings online, which is unusual, and even playing games has been mechanical. Drifting toward captions I have seen the sort of thing I enjoy, usually, and the styles of stories that appeal. I have gone to art sites that are not sexual-related and stories that do not rely on TG or one-handedness and got nothing. I have glutted myself on Cracked's After Hours and enjoyed that, with real laughs, but it has been entirely passive in terms of my engagement. When I become a passive receptor I know that I am being a tad depressed - I lack the idea sleet and that, even if I do not act on it, is a feature of me not being depressed. A lack of it must therefore suggest depression.

Note the addition of a catheter that
would necessitate some padding.
Tellingly, I have signed up on emlalock again, despite having no means of lockable chastity. To play and to pretend I guess. This has been a feature of previous depression too, especially since March 2014, and mostly that is a safe place. I can pretend and act out there - no message boards, almost entirely private playing with numbers and games - without fear of harming or interacting with others. Except that, this time, I have been contacted and asked, genuinely, what I would like to have happen. This appears to be a professional person and/or group that can offer free services (presumably to hook and thus offer paid services later, or else someone who genuinely enjoys what they do - which I would suspect to be vanishingly rare) on the chastity front. And, for a moment, I was tempted to get fully involved. But I am lying and playing, I can offer no proof of anything.

Oh, and this would be proper cheating if I did. I would be outsourcing sex and sexual satisfaction fully and completely in a way that, despite previous activity, I have never done before. It's a red line. And the initial impetus, the gut reaction to do it is indicative of the self-destructive streak that I associate with me when depressed. It was the canary in the mine and it would appear that, yes, the late nights and late mornings are, as suspected, the symptoms of that depression once more. In essence, it was my wake-up call. I did not have it with breakfast in bed and have not requested room service with a newspaper.

Could this solve the issue? She wouldn't need to do or control
anything and I would be able to pretend anything I liked.
Conversation with Tilly, planned soon, on my cross-dressing (and her feelings on the matter, which she accepts are unreasonable) will now have to include, I feel, chastity. I know that she has no more to say or to give on the sexual front - she is happy with what we do, with the frequency and the style. None of this is likely to change and I would be unreasonable to assume that she could change her views on that. It behooves me to find a way to make things work within her parameters so that I get some compromise. Perhaps, and this is a big perhaps, chastity may offer me a way to do that without impinging on her feelings of what is and is not possible.

In the chessboard of my life and that of people whom my wife I and I know, I am uncertain how much is shared between the front row and the back, and how much relations between the two queens would be changed by revelations on this blog - in short, I know not how much of this here place is shared between qp and his Imperator - but I said I would remain honest. I suppose this is me remaining honest! So, good things, and something about which my depression will find it harder to lie.

Black butterfly curtsy
- strangely close to being exactly what
I was looking for from the search terms.


  1. Ahoy! Yes. I think I'll message you about specifics.

    In other news, depression also features in my past, and has plagued me ever since my teens. It's very infrequent now, due in part to being able to see it coming a mile off and also being able to articulate it very well with the people around me. Turns out the families of alcoholics get some pretty nifty multipliers to counselling efficacy and a huge bonus to emotional literacy.

    Self-destruction and chastity are not recommended. Listening is good. I'll message you.

    1. Self destruction is never a good plan, so far as I know, but warnings gratefully recieved and understood. Good oh on emoitional literacy, I'm still learning letters myself, but one day I hope to graduate to word recognition and tenses, we'll see.

      Listening IS good, yes. And, if I can convince Tilly to say anything, I shall be sure to listen. She's already intimated that she won't be saying much of anything and that the conversation will have to be led by me with little, if any, interaction from her. So... Yeah.

  2. It's hard to lead a conversation about what someone else wants when you're pretty sure you already know and don't like the answer. Also, timing right now is completely against you. You are cursed, apparently. On the plus side, this does give you time to plan your next move, and also get rid of those damn butterflies, because it's always a bad idea trying to do anything while those little bastards are at you.


    1. Aye. I had hoped the conversation to be about her and her fears and hopes for the future, rather than what I want, but it appears, once again, as though that is off the table.

      It's complicated because I don't actually know what I want from all of this. I have no point of reference that seems logical. Toby was mad, my first relationship was even less aware of relationships than I and... well... that's all I have to go on. In that sense, I have no idea how to plan my next move because... well, I don't know which direction in which to move. As I read back through my posts here I learn that timing has always been, will always likely be, against me. It's not so much a curse (try here: http://happinessv1.blogspot.com/2014/12/the-curse-of-my-penis.html) but it is irritating.

      My activities online, now fading into the past, argue that little sympathy is due and still less any hope of success - that or Hell, and I prefer to believe in punishment in the now to avoid puinishment in the after.

      My thanks for the sage advice and apologies to whinge about it in response.


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