We Got No Innocence

I think one misconception a few people have about me is concerning my sexuality. My desire to be really feminine and my wish that I could be a woman have absolutely nothing to do with who I'm attracted to. Just because I want breasts doesn't mean I'll suddenly stop wanting to play with other breasts. Let's face it, breasts are insanely fun to play with. Can you really blame me for wanting a set of my own? Yes, there are a few guys I think are attractive. Yes, I have wondered what it would be like to be with a guy when it's on my terms, not forced upon me. But it's not something I actively pursue.

All the girls and boys makin' all that noise 'cause they found new toys.

I think a lot of people confuse gender identity and sexual identity or sexuality. When I was younger I did the same. Then I took a human sexuality class at Kent State, and learned just how little I knew about humans as sexual beings. I am not going to tell you some story about how that class twenty years ago was what made me first think about becoming a woman, because that would be a blatant lie. While I did find the class very enlightening into the way I looked at sex, sexuality, and gender, the only thought about a woman in that class was about the woman who sat next to me, and how I could hook up with her. (Spoiler - we didn't hook up. Shocker, I know.) I'd also like to discuss some of the things I learned in that class, but again, twenty years ago. Exactly half my life has passed since then. I can remember conversations with the hot ass teacher (who moonlighted as a bartender, at a place where her uniform was basically a skimpier version of Daisy Duke's outfit.) I also even remember certain assignments, including one where we had to go to an adult video store, and another where we had to create a poster with words and images of what sexuality meant to us, which basically turned into a porn display - even the women in the class got pretty naughty with that assignment. I also remember the teacher putting a condom on a double ended dildo with her mouth, and how half the guys in the class (myself included) wished she was doing something else with said dildo, with any of the several attractive females in class.

But sadly, as much as I remember these specific things, I don't remember specifics about what we actually learned in that class. However, I do know that class opened my eyes quite a bit in the way I saw people. I was one of those asshole kids who thought of cross dressers as freaks. (Yeah, I know...) I spewed "fag" and "homo" and "queer" from my mouth on a regular basis. Then I took that class, and the blinders were removed. I no longer saw cross dressers as some carnival sideshow bearded lady wannabes. I rarely used those slanderous words after that class, and have since removed them from my vocabulary almost completely. (I'll admit it. I slip once in a while.) To be fair to my younger self, though, I only knew three gay guys up until that point. One was a kid I went to high school with who was one of my closest friends, but who I didn't actually know was gay until my mid twenties. (Suspected, but didn't know.) The other two were Mark and the guy he would sometimes pimp me out to for rent money.

If that don't suit ya that's a drag.

I've drifted off topic quite a bit. I really just want to clarify, I am still like 95% straight. Or 85%. Somewhere in that range. I have noticed lately though that even though I'm not sure I would ever want to actually touch another penis, I thoroughly enjoy the look of other cocks. I have been paying a lot more attention to the boy bits when I'm browsing porn, and have found that I rather enjoy the look of the male genitalia. Again, still not sure I would ever want to play with one, but they're nice to check out.

One other thing I wanted to clarify for anyone reading this... It may not be important to you, but it's something I feel is important. The entire time I was with Mark, we only engaged in oral sex. The only butt stuff that ever happened was he would stick a finger in me most times, but it never went farther than that. I just wanted to clear that up. And no, I can't really say why it's so important to me to get that out there, but it is.

I think that's enough sex talk for one night. I've certainly got more to say on some of this stuff, but I need to keep my faithful audience in mind, and some of you are certainly not the type who are comfortable reading about stuff like this. Thanks as always for reading. Leave a comment below if you feel so inclined, or drop me an email here.

Also, one last thing. I've gone back through all the earlier posts and updated them so when I say what song a title was taken from you can click it and check the song out if you're curious. I also did the same on the one post that I had all the little lists of songs, each one is now an active link.

Today's title and headers are from "School's Out" by Alice Cooper.

We'll Kiss On A Mountaintop

I want to wake up with the rain falling on a tin roof.

I feel a rather stupid amount of happiness right now because of two people. Even with everything going on with my wife and the anxiety and unhappiness that come along with it, two of my friends have continually made me feel loved, accepted, and insanely happy. This post is a tribute to them.

I want to walk with you on a cloudy day.

I have known my friend Tracy for over 25 years now. My friend Shannon I've known for about a year and a half or so, but we've really gotten close since about Christmas. Without these two women I would be having a much harder time with everything I'm going through.

Tracy was one of the few extremely pretty (OK, gorgeous) girls who would speak to me in high school. I had a crush on her from the first time I ever saw her but never made a move because I felt like she was way out of my league. She was always a very warm person, kind to pretty much everyone. She was also the sole reason I joined the drama club to do sound production. I was too shy to ask her out but at least I could use drama club as an excuse to hang out with her.

When we graduated we lost touch, as so many people do. Especially in the early '90s when we didn't have cell phones or the internet to stay connected. It wasn't until our ten year reunion that we saw each other again. There were only three people I wanted to see at that reunion, and Tracy was on top of that list. Unfortunately we didn't get a chance to talk because we both spent much of the evening on opposite sides of the room.

We didn't really begin to connect as completely as we now have until five or six years ago, via Facebook. Ever since we connected on there, we have continued to grow closer and closer. She has unquestionably become my best friend, and knows more about me than anybody else does. She was the person I talked to the most when my wife and I were discussing possibly divorcing, and along with Shannon has been the biggest help with me becoming comfortable with who I am now.

While I'm safe there in your arms.

Shannon and I met through Twitter, and I will freely admit that I really started following her because she is hot as the sun. However, she is also hilarious, and extremely caring, which is why when I deactivated my Twitter account, I made sure to find a way to keep in contact with her before I left. We have stayed in contact through Instagram, and although I still flirt with her a bit too much, my appreciation for her grows daily. Her kindness and support amazes me even more because we have never actually met in person.

Back in February, Shannon was my support for when I was being adventurous and wearing some sexy garments out of the house for the first time. Over the course of two days I ventured out to the library, grocery store, and mall while wearing either a white negligee or a purple corset-type body suit thing under my clothes. The first day, when I went to the library, I was absolutely petrified sitting in the parking lot, but she helped me find the courage to go inside.

It was mostly because of that day that Shannon was the first person I asked to call me Emily.

Sorry, had to block out names... It goes her, then me, then her.

I love that from the very first second she was accepting.

I could go on for hours about Tracy and Shannon, and how much they have impacted my life. They have both been so wonderfully accepting of me, and as I said, without them I don't think I would be anywhere near as comfortable as I am with who I am. Instead of talking about them though, I would rather show just how awesome they are.

Tracy asked if she could call me Emily before I even had a chance to ask if she would...

The first time Shannon called me Emily...

Tracy gets me like nobody else does...

Every time Shannon calls me Emily, my heart smiles.

Same with Tracy. Happy smiling heart.

The first time Tracy gave me a nickname, I could hardly contain my joy!

Tracy is also very good at being very real with me.

I asked Shannon to never call me Larry again, after asking the same of Tracy.

More nicknames from Tracy.

My favorite message from Tracy in the history of ever.

My favorite message from Shannon, when discussing body issues and wanting to be more feminine. I almost cried from this one.

The final thing I want to discuss is just how much Tracy gets me. I pride myself on being able to express myself in writing, much more so than speaking which I am horrible at. When my wife told me she is no longer comfortable with me wearing panties, I was pretty much a wreck. (And still am a lot of the time, to be honest, since we haven't had much chance to discuss anything further.) I was at a loss to describe how I was feeling and what I wanted to say to my wife, and even myself. Tracy summed it up better than I possibly could have at that time.

Come away with me and I'll never stop loving you.

To Tracy and Shannon, I love the two of you more than you will ever know. I don't know if I will ever be able to repay you for everything you have done for me, because I don't know if there are enough words to describe the size of the debt or enough years to repay it

Tracy, I cannot wait to see you again. Shannon, I cannot wait to see you for the first time. You both mean absolutely everything to me.

Title and captions today are from "Come Away With Me" by Norah Jones, a song that Tracy introduced to me and which means a lot to us.

Even Smiling Makes My Face Ache

I think I really need to get some help. No, I'm not being suicidal again. Let me just get that out right up front. I'm just not well.

My wife has told me she is no longer comfortable with me wearing panties. I was trying to gauge her feelings about it to possibly bring up the idea of perhaps introducing leggings, tights, and stockings into my wardrobe. But the conversation that ensued made me realize that continuing down this path of being trans means doing it alone and in secrecy, at least at home. Eventually I think I will have to decide between keeping my marriage and being true to myself about who I am. Hopefully, eventually, I can find a balance that is acceptable to all parties, and not have to decide.

The stress I've been feeling since this discussion has been completely absurd. I feel like I can't breathe. I feel trapped. I feel like I'm being asked to give up an enormous part of myself. It's terrifying and suffocating and crushing.

I can't go back to the therapist I'd been discussing my gender identity issues with. The first visit I had with her went extremely well, I thought. I came out of it in better spirits than I'd been in quite some time. She made me feel like it was completely fine for me to feel and dress like a woman.

The second and third times I saw her were a completely different thing altogether. During our second session she asked me what else I could do instead of dressing, because it didn't seem healthy to her. During the third and final visit, I mentioned this blog and how I had described the events relating to my suicide, among other things. I also told her that the suicide was off limits for discussion because it's not something I'm comfortable taking about. After we discussed the dressing for a few minutes, she circled back to the suicide, and pushed. And pushed. And pushed. Finally I gave up and talked about it. By the time I left I was shaking. I had to sit in my manager's office for quite a while before finally starting work that day. And mentally I haven't felt right since.

I am really hoping when I finally get the courage to talk to my wife about my other self, about Emily, that we can be civil toward and understanding of each other's feelings. I definitely need to plan what I want to say to her and how I want to say it, because otherwise I will simply roll over, let her dominate the conversation, and give in to her wishes even if it means completely abandoning my own. It's how I'm wired.

Today's title is from a bit of dialogue from Rocky Horror Picture Show.

Dot Dot Dot Dash Dash Dash Dot Dot Dot

I feel like I'm being backed into a corner, being forced to make a decision I didn't think I'd have to make. It's putting me in an impossible situation where nobody wins, everyone gets hurt, and nothing can ever be the same. This weekend may be extremely vital to me in several ways.

Fuck.

Gazing Through Trees In Sorrow

Put on a gown that touches the ground.

I had a moment earlier this week that was very important to me. I chose the name I'll be referring to myself as when I'm dressed as a woman. It wasn't an easy choice, but I feel like I was thorough in my decision making process. I had to go through a couple first to see what felt right. This one feels very right to me.

My only rule when deciding my new name was that I wanted it to be a real name, not some silly moniker that even I couldn't take seriously, like some crazy names I've heard guys use when they dress as women. It had to be a real name because this is the real me. It's not a phase, it's not a game, it's not something I'm taking lightly.

The very first name I thought of was Sarah. I've always liked that name, and thought it might be fitting. I didn't even give it serious consideration though because I've known a ton of Sarahs in my life.

Next up was Michelle. It is another name I've always liked. I actually mentioned this one to two people, but after a few hours realized that since a very good friend is named Michelle, it may not sit well with her if I started calling myself that.

Next I just made a list of names I really like and thought might fit me. Some of them were Rebecca, Danielle, Amy, Amanda, and, yet again, Sarah. One friend told me Amy was definitely out. Sarah was also quickly dismissed again. Danielle had a little traction, but I was too unsure about it. The last name on that list was the one I ultimately chose.

Emily.

I didn't know for sure right away if Emily was the right match, but I should have. It was the only name I asked my wonderful friend Shannon if she would be comfortable calling me. That alone should have been my sign that it was right, that I was asking someone to use it. But the next day, for the first time in over a month I dressed as a woman, and sent a picture to Shannon. When she actually did call me Emily... My heart nearly burst, I was so happy. That was the moment I knew for sure.

I have only actually announced my choice to one other person, and her reaction was wonderful. She's seen pictures of me dressed as a woman, but has never seen it in person. (Nobody has, actually.) When I told her my name choice, her response was, "I can't wait to meet her and have a drink." So wonderful.

Of course I'm not expecting every response to be positive. That's simply not the way the world works. At some point I'm going to talk about myself to someone and they'll have a negative reaction. It's not something I can avoid forever. I'm very lucky, though, that I have such amazing friends that I can turn to and who have been overwhelmingly supportive. It means so much to me, both as Larry and as Emily.

Title and header today are from "See Emily Play" by Pink Floyd.

Interlude

I have a friend who very frequently speaks about wanting to kill himself. About how worthless he feels. How unnecessary his existence is. It happens with such frequency that many people simply ignore him. A complete boy who cried wolf situation. I don't want to be like that, because I know how exhausting it is for other people to try to talk a suicidal person out of their darkness.

I'm not sure I'm suicidal just yet, but I know I'm closer than I've been in years and I can't figure out why. My mood has been spiraling into darker and darker territory the past several days, but until today it's been a slow spiral that I've been able to manage. Not the case with today. Since I woke up today I've just been sinking like I've never done before. I can't pray, because I don't believe in God. My meds are getting me nowhere. I can't paint because my mother in law is a giant fucking slug and won't move out of my house and lives in my art room. So I have to write. Because it's the only thing that helps right now.

But is anybody even out there? Am I just shouting at shadows and imagining an audience? If that's the case, so be it. But the stats on my side of this blog say it's been viewed over 400 times. So where are you all?

I'm begging... I need to know someone is out there. You can leave comments anonymously, so whether you're a friend from work or a random stranger from across the continent please....


Please just say hi. I'm so alone right now.