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!

Monday, 9 August 2021

Envy and Baltimore Maryland

Context

In my dreams last night, what I remember of them, I got taken to task as I wasn't passing as a male enough - turns out I was seen as a woman and people were concerned that I wasn't putting enough effort into being male. Make of that what you will.

I didn't wear the glasses.

Lovely night. Wish I had.
It's been very wet in my part of the UK lately, and I have been watching the damp patches grow on the living room wall as the outside mortar continues to fail. They recede afterwards, of course, but that is somewhat depressing and alarming. Now there is also some damp on an internal wall that I cannot trace the source of at all (it's on the outside of the stairwell, there's no link to the attic nor any outside walls or chimney breasts, it is a mystery - probably rising damp, right? Figures). So far the grouting appears to be doing its job (the middlest was over and had a couple of showers, no further damage there) which is nice. Also had the smallest over for the Sunday, he stayed about four hours and seemed to have fun - getting violent when it came time to leave. It's hard.

Last night I went out for a walk whilst on the phone to my father. We were discussing the eldest and her worries about lack of friendships at her dance class due, essentially, to her 'putting people off' with her masking - they know something is off but don't know what. My father suggested that maybe she should just try harder to appear normal, like I had failed to do (and no, he said, plenty of people get divorced without being autistic when I raised that masking had caused some problems for me). I didn't push it too far. Hence the walk. I was tempted to wear the flared jeans but didn't - I wore my male disguise and had a quite lovely walk after the conversation ended - it wasn't all bad.

Seven years, nearly eight, before I found this
view. Madness.
Last week I signed up for a dating website on the recommendation of KT, think I may have mentioned it, and have been on there a bit. Why? I like punishing myself. I have included the pertinent details of being trans*, interested in women and diagnosed with ASD. Predictably, I have not had any responses to any messages. I do not anticipate any. Like I say, I guess I'm punishing myself because I kinda know that there isn't anyone on a mainstream dating website interested in someone like me. I suspect that, were I to not mention the gender issues, I might at least get responses (maybe not, perhaps the ASD is enough, I don't know). But, and this is important, the gender issues were the root of my failure as a husband and... well, I want to avoid that in the future.

No, I have no idea what happened
here either.
Tilly had the loft boarded and then called someone in to look at the roof. It needs repairs and will need replacing soon (like, in five years soon). The repairs will cost £700 and the replacement of the roof around £6,000.-£7,000 She was asking me to pay half. I mean, legally, I am liable for that much. So, that's a fun thing I'm going to have to save for. Oh, she says, I'll benefit from that when the house comes to be sold - you know, after worrying about whether or not I'll end up owing her extra money (and getting provisions written into our financial agreements that I would pay off anything not covered by my share of the house in instalments - it's her future) on the sale of the house. Now she reckons it'll be worth re-mortgaging the house and may end up being better that way. Did I mention Tilly has never really understood finances? I have? Oh, sorry. Anyway, that's not to say I do but the upshot is that I feel bad having to save just shy of £4,000 for repairs to a house I no longer live in. Whilst living in a house that sorely needs repairs but for which I can't seem to find people willing to do the jobs.


Into town. Yeah, the App has had a
play here.
Into town and I wore my flared jeans with some new trainer socks. Also my bralette, haven't worn them in a while actually, because I felt like I wanted to. Even glasses. I was off to get a card for some friends that have moved house. But I stopped off in the charity shops to try and find some knitwear for the winter - strange to think that I probably do need some seasonal clothes now - and failed to do that. Did get a jacket and a chinese-style red blouse. The blouse will have to go back, a little too tight around the underbust area. Of course. Then I went into a pub and had a couple of ales, because of course I did. On Twitter, where I tweeted my beer, I am now following Mae Dean and, through her, a bunch of trans* people. It's... comforting to see what they're up to. Like the blogs I follow but shorter and thus easier to read a lot of them all at once whilst drinking a half of ale. But I am known personally by a couple of the people on my beer twitter (a local brewer and a couple of pub owners) who insist on using my given name. Also, I know that Tilly sees some of my activity there. I want to get Joanna a Twitter account, but Twitter wants my phone number. No. I draw the line there. So I have not got a Twitter account unconnected to my male disguise.

This evening, Tilly reminded me it was our anniversary. Like this, via text: "Not sure what one says in this instance, but 'happy non anniversary' day today...?"


The Main Event

In 2012, Dee pointed out two paths open to me - end it and live as me or try to suppress my feelings and slowly let things rot me from the inside. I wish I could have done better at the latter. Was it envy?

Natalie Wynn has done a new video on Envy, of course I watched it, and then I watched the one on Incels. There's a lot in both of them about being trans, because of course there is, and the way in which dysphoria can manifest. I watched the Tiffany Tumbles one as well, where at the end the character Tiffany dissolves into horrific dysphoria and, in the process, becomes sympathetic to the viewer. Have I committed the sin of the incel in becoming envious of people like Tilly, specifically Tilly, and thus poisoned everything? Is that why I have had so few relationships in my life - my envy of the women that I am attracted to? That is, not knowing whether I want to be with them or be them? Then reasoning that I am jealous, envious, of how they can dress and wear make-up and, well, live their lives? Certainly I have often ruminated on Tilly's, Toby's and Terry's senses of style, their clothing and the way in which they interacted with people. I have wanted what they had, known I can't get it (because I am not them, it's not their gender but who they are gets these things) and thus felt worse about myself. It's not nice to be around.


Oooh, enough to have an almost
actual pony-tail.

Also, poetntial outfit for Thursday,
is it too young for my age?
I have never been turned on by myself, in any version (fantastical or reality-based), and usually require something else to reach that state of release one has in sexual activities. I have always needed the fantasy and, oddly for one who claims to be as visual as I do, that is rarely visual - it is feeling based. How it feels or I imagine it would feel to carry things out or wear things or just the academic exercise of thinking about having long hair (yes, that has been used before) for example. My identity, for as long as I can remember, has been tied up with my sexuality. Now, okay, before a certain point around my early teens (maybe tweens?) I wouldn't have known that was what I was doing but after I had read the body book (and before I had the sex-ed lessons in school) I knew something of sexual arousal. My first ever ejaculation (sorry) was while wearing toilet paper ribbons on ankles and wrists, with wrists tied to the head-board of my bed with string, after school late into the evening, around 2300, and I was appalled at myself for stopping up so late into the evening on a school night (we had moved house so I was around 12). I remember seeing the result and not twigging that it was semen but assuming that it was some mucus 'stopper' that had been dislodged and that this meant my body was ready to procreate even if I wasn't. That was it. I cleaned up as best as I could, anxious that my mother didn't have more washing to do than necessary, and recoiled at the smell and texture. Every time after that was on the loo so I would avoid messing the bedclothes. A habit I maintained right through into University.

Aaah, that's better.
Why mention all of this? Because all of that was tied up with the twin pillars of submissive BDSM (even if I didn't know that term yet) and the thrill of the concept of what I would now call cross-dressing. The term transvestite was known to me around that time, and because I liked Latin I adopted that as an explanation of what I did because trans-sexual (another term I knew) didn't seem to fit. I knew I wasn't interested in men (note: even then I refused to call that 'gay' because of what I now know to be autism - it didn't 'fit' as a term I could apply to myself even if I did fancy men, but I didn't, so I never analysed that further) and I had looked into it at the behest of a friend. That's not why 'trans-sexual' didn't fit for me, by the way, I understood trans-sexual to refer to someone who was having or had had surgery to change genitalia - so it couldn't apply to me. Beyond that I didn't think of it at all. I was probably a transvestite because I wanted to wear, and imagined wearing, clothes tailored for women. Interestingly, though I had never heard Izzard's quote, I stayed away from calling them women's clothes because they would not be taken from someone else - that would be theft.



So, right through my formative years I envied women. I knew then that I couldn't work out the difference between being attracted to them and attracted to being them. I dealt with that quandary by deciding not to deal with it at all. Neither Terry nor Toby were people I wanted to be. With Toby I thought this through in enough detail to know why: she was taller than I, stronger than I and I thought she was more dominant than I. So, I didn't want to be her, but any number of her friends and former female partners, yes. I didn't think about it with Terry, but in hindsight it doesn't make much sense, she was smaller than I, a little on the submissive side, but achingly vanilla. I don't know. Didn't want to be her, still don't (her at the time, not now, I'm not sure I know enough to analyse that latter one). But the women I fancied and failed to make a move on? Oh, yeah, there were plenty of those I wanted to be as much as or more than I wanted to be with. I know that on that first night Tilly and I met I was blindsided by the sudden feeling I wanted to be her - the point at which I realised that woman ahead was texting me and we hadn't actually met yet. That moment. It's why I was so tongue-tied when she did speak, because I was processing that thought. And I elected to deal with that by not thinking about it again. But it would have to have been there.


That is what did for our marriage. Envy. Not that I felt Tilly shouldn't have the enjoyment of being her or that I felt my inability to enjoy it meant no one else could either. But jealousy doesn't quite fit here as there are no other protagonists. I guess that this envy leaks out in all parts of my life. Especially in a romantic area. And no one wants to be around envy. But, also, that aspect of who I am, what I now know to be trans-ness, is also a core aspect of my sexuality and understanding of sex and sexy times (if you see what I mean). It is intertwined and connected, indivisible and unified. So that I'm not turned on by myself, never will be, but I am consistent in what has excited me from the earliest point that I could talk about sexual excitement - and that has always been taking a submissive role as a woman. Not in an objectified sense (nor even in a social understanding of what being a woman means in sexual relationships) but in a sense that my journey of being my gender was best expressed by using the term 'woman' in my internal monologue.


As a teen I went through the envy as discussed by Wynn in her videos - if I had had access to today's internet I feel certain I would have come across Incel forums long before I stumbled upon things dealing with trans-issues as a teen. Yes, I absolutely understood the power I imagined women held over people such as me and felt envious - the kind of toxic emotion that probably cemented my loneliness in those years. But my more modern understanding of my feelings toward women isn't quite envy and isn't quite jealousy - it's some combination of the two.

Honestly, this is all far more confused than I had imagined when coming to write this post. I'm sure I have used the wrong terminology, or made a hash of something. I need to mull further on this.

This is from, like, May or something.

No comments:

Post a Comment

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