A secret

I thought long and hard about sharing this with complete strangers over the internet, and I’ve decided that since I can’t tell my friends and family about this, that means the only place I can share this is with strangers over the internet.

So, here goes nothing; I’m 27 and have never had a girlfriend.

Well, there it is. The truth. Well, only part of it. I’ve also never had sex, kissed whilst sober (certainly not with anyone I knew for more than 2 minutes), and I’ve never experienced one of those famed ‘all consuming’ crushes either (you know the type – butterflies, nausea, sweaty palms, can’t stop thinking about them, heart racing, etc.). Whoever said that it is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all was a smart dude, because let me tell you; it’s heartbreaking in its own way. And all without the benefit of having experienced love, or at the very least knowing the joys of sharing something like that with another person.

I guess it started with a lack of confidence. First, a lack of confidence in my looks, as I’ve been overweight since I was a child, and coming from a weight-obsessed family that’s a disaster waiting to happen. Then I guess came a loss of confidence in my personality, due to my father (my primary care giver as a kid) not understanding me, and constantly willing and wishing me to change my naturally introverted tendencies, leading to the belief that I was boring, unfunny, lacking anything important to say, etc.. This became a self fulfilling prophesy, and later led to a loss in ability to speak properly. These issues made it difficult for me to find new friends, and I’ve found myself unable to make deep, lasting connections with anyone since I went to secondary school, where I met the only women I consider to be my friends – all two of them.

In university I felt disconnected from the other lesbians I met, as the thought of getting close to any of them, and eventually opening up to someone on an intimate level, frightened me so much I ended up never getting close to anyone. I actually started each year saying to myself ‘this year I will do it! I will meet someone’, but with every passing year that got more and more difficult, as the embarrassment factor got bigger and bigger.

If lack of confidence was the first barrier, and embarrassment the second, then that would make shame the third. I was ashamed that I had gotten as old as I was and had missed so many ‘milestones’ that a girl my age was supposed to have reached by that point. I was still ashamed of my body and personality, and I was ashamed at my ever decreasing ability to speak without stuttering, say the correct word I was thinking, and my tendency to forget what I had just said (making me unable to finish sentences properly). I was ashamed to tell my friends, because I knew they would feel sorry for me – which I cannot abide!

Then came doubt. Doubt that I deserved that kind of happiness. Doubt in my ability to make someone else happy. Doubt in my ability to be someone a girlfriend could proudly introduce to their parents, and build a future with. Doubt that any woman would want to take someone like me on, what with all these problems. Doubt that I’m even capable of having a fulfilling relationship, due to all my hangups. And everybody knows: doubt leads to fear.

And so fear is an ever present ghoul in the back of my mind now too. Would the fact that I’m 27 and have no experience with sex and relationships what so ever put potential partners off?  Would I be laughed at? Will I ever find someone?  Who in the world has the amount of patience needed to deal with me?

Urgh! It’s like I’m drowning in a glass box – I can see ‘simple’ solutions to my problems; all I need to do is get my confidence and self esteem back, and get over my fear and doubt, right? But I’m stuck. How do I do these things?

Soul destroying loneliness is the result of all of the above, especially since I also feel isolated from my friends when it comes to this.

All my friends are in long term relationships, and have no idea about this. I’d rather lie than let them know the truth too, as they are not likely to be understanding. They are all het, for a start, which is a barrier, as much as I hate to admit it. Then there’s the fact that they have a ‘sex-positive’ attitude, which makes sex a very difficult topic to discuss with them under the best of circumstances, as they believe every woman is ‘a little bisexual’. This attitude has led to some instances which border on harassment, as they’ve tried to persuade me to go out with one of the men we regularly hang out with, as a group. I don’t know… I gave up in the end, and now I just switch-off and nod along every time they talk about sex. Talking to them is not an option for me.

Family is also not an option.

So here I am. Spilling my guts on the internet, hoping for… something??? Idk. It has made me feel better to get this down in writing (typing?), so there’s that I guess.

Thanks for tuning in! Next time: maybe something not as depressing, but probably just as personal 🙂





To post, or not to post – that is the question

I’ve spent the day writing a potential post about a VERY personal subject, and I can’t decide if I should post it or not.

Though this blog in fairly anonymous I still can’t help feel ashamed and embarrassed at what this potential post is about. It’s a shame I know is stupid to bear, and that no one will believe it to be that bad of a thing, plus it’s likely nobody will read it anyway. Still the thought of sharing this thing is making me feel sort of sick.

I’ve never shared this secret before, even though the truth of it hurts my soul, and makes the problem harder to overcome the longer I leave it fester.

I think it would be beneficial for me to finally put it out there (even if no one sees it), which is why I haven’t deleted it (yet!).

I’m just trying to work up the courage… in the meantime – enjoy my ramble 😀

*screams into the void*


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What’s reoccurrin’?

Over the past couple of years I have been having the most bizarre reoccurring dream.  First, I’m in America, happily married to a beautiful woman (so it starts off pleasant enough!), and we have a load of young kids together (again, all very pleasant, at least as far as I’m concerned). We live in a nice house, not too small, not too big – just what I’ve always wanted. God knows what we both do for a living, but it seems we’re doing quite well, and our kids are happy and healthy (the number of happy kids we have seems to fluctuate between 4 and 15 between dreams for no discernible reason, but I’m down with that).

Anyway, one day, out of nowhere, the sperm donor turns up at our door with his wife in tow (apparently it was an anonymous thing so god knows how he found us… oh well!). He tells us that since his last donation he got into an accident which has left him sterile, and asks us for his sperm back. Weird enough, right? Buuutt we oblige, feeling sorry for the poor man, and knowing that if we did want any more kids we could use the frozen embryos we just happen to have lying around some lab somewhere. Yeah, I know…

Unfortunately for him his stuff doesn’t last long enough to get his wife pregnant. Not our problem, you would assume, right? Wrong. He then lawyers up and takes us to court over the embryos. In a panic I have them all implanted before he can get an injunction* to stop us from doing so. Pissed, the donor decides he’s not quite done ruining our lives. So now me and my wife find ourselves in a situation where we’re battling a sperm donor for custody of an unknown quantity of fetuses.  Don’t ask me who wins, I have never found out.

Usually the donor’s infertility is caused by some accident (I remember one where it was a car accident, and one where it was an injury sustained in battle), but a couple of months ago a completely new infertility causing situation arose in the dreams – as if it couldn’t get any fucking weirder – the donor transitioned to live as a woman. Where once the worry seemed to be a homophobic judge siding with the straight couple, now me and my dream wife worry about a liberal media frenzy.

Like I said, I never do get a resolution to the dream, but events usually go a little something like this:

  • Happy family situation – like that feeling where you just know, ya know?
  • Suddenly talking to the donor
  • Give sperm
  • Letter from a lawyer demanding the embryos
  • Am suddenly pregnant with all the embryos
  • Wife is now suddenly worried about a foetus custody trial
  • Worrying about homophobic judge/liberal media frenzy
  • Wake up/another dream suddenly starts

I’m not into dreamology or whatever the fuck it’s called, but can someone please explain to me what the fuck this is all about? Because I’m fresh out of ideas here. It can’t be as simple as me watching too much Ally McBeal and Law & Order, along with spending too much time online reading about trans related shyte, right?

Also, should I turn this into a script…? XD


*is that even how injunctions work?

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Reconciling a thing

Yesterday I started my first round of electrolysis. I’ve been wanting to get the procedure done for years now, and last weekend I finally plucked up the courage to go to the salon and make myself an appointment. The 30 minute procedure – which I have to repeat at least once a week until the hairs stop growing – was uncomfortable, but not painful (truth be told, the only painful part of the entire thing was the cost). The area I had done doesn’t look too rashy anymore, but is still a little sore to the touch. This is one of the steps I am taking in order to try and gain back my self-confidence, after years of being a lonely, self-conscious shut-in.

I’ve had issues with unwanted facial hair since I was a teenager, and have tried to deal with it in various ways through plucking, hair removal creams, and waxing. I even attempted to accept it, which I did for a while whilst in university, but coming home to an image conscious father who made me very aware of how ‘ugly’ it made me totally decimated any progress I made in the past, and reset my new found self-acceptance right back to zero. I won’t bore you with the details, but let’s just say I felt like a freak in my own home.

Over the years the effect it had on my confidence and self-esteem got worse. In the end it was like I gave up trying to get rid of it, as it would grow back so fast it felt like I was being betrayed and defeated by my own body. I would pluck the worst of it every now and again, but overall I only bothered to get rid of it for certain occasions (like weddings, etc.). The rest of the time I just left it.

It bothered me, and I felt isolated, until I went on Tumblr and discovered a ton of hairy GNC women, who were proud to have rejected societal pressures such as makeup and shaving, and I didn’t feel so alone anymore, at least in the grand sense. It was like they were saying ‘fuck you’ to societal norms (which I love!), and it was a breath of fresh air compared to all that libfem ‘femininity = fun-time empowerment’ bullshit. I loved it. It made me feel like there were people out there who understood and accepted me the way I naturally am. In reality though, I was still living among people who put a premium on a looks, and weren’t shy about expressing their opinions. Still, discovering these wonderful women did make me feel better about my own situation, and certainly gave me food for thought when it came to the political power of women rejecting gender norms.

Which is why I am a little torn about my decision to permanently remove my facial hair;

On the one hand, I really believe this will make it easier for me to live and move on to a happier life, where I won’t be plagued by well meaning, yet confidence destroying comments from family members. On the other hand, I am now on my way to becoming one more gender conforming woman (which means one less gender non-conforming woman – score 1 for the patriarchy), and I won’t deny that a part of me is a bit disappointed in myself for deciding to do this, as it’s sort of like accepting that I’ve been defeated by the pressure to conform.

This got me thinking; where will this end. We all know that as women we are conditioned to feel more confident the more we conform to beauty standards, so where am I going to end up now that I’ve started down this path? Along with the electrolysis I’ve had a haircut this week too (for the first time in over 2 years!), I’ve also been thinking about feminising my wardrobe, and about the way I feel on the few occasions that I wear makeup (no surprise – it gives me more confidence). Will I end up being a femme lesbian? Would I like to be? I don’t know… I’m still trying to work it out, I suppose.

I can definitely see myself becoming more feminine, because I like the confidence that comes with it. And I think it would actually give me the confidence I need to approach women, as well as put my face out there to meet women via the internet, which, btw, is super daunting! I’ve been on two dating websites before now, and deactivated both accounts within an hour of signing up (Okcupid: ‘so-and-so liked your thing’ Me: *shits bricks, deactivates account, sets laptop on fire*). Scrolling through page after page of beautiful women (and not so beautiful – looking at you ‘Italiancouple69’ or whatever your name is! Does that happen a lot?) really makes me want to join, so one of my goals is to eventually get my mug on one of those websites and maybe even approach someone on there. Eventually.

Anyway, I guess I’ve gone on long enough. Over the next few months I’ll be posting updates on my attempts at feminising myself…

Until next time!


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Spotlight sweats

I’ve had a Tumblr account for a few months now, and have recently started adding some of my own content (as opposed to just commenting on and reblogging existing posts), but the thought of having my own blog here on WordPress seems a bit daunting for some reason.

I guess it’s because I know that on Tumblr my own posts can get drowned out among all the other posts that show up on my followers dashboards, so there’s not too much pressure to actually produce anything of worth. It’s different here though, isn’t it? My posts will be all stand-alone-ish against their own bright white background. No cute puppy pics or cat vines on here to make the people who read my shyte forget said shyte 3 seconds after they encounter it. And that’s really quite scary.


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I should probably tell you at least a bit about myself and my hopes for this blog, I guess. Well, I’m a lesbian, in my mid-late 20s who’s just gotten out of ‘identifying’ as a libfem, due to some very persuasive gender-critical Tumblr radfems (though to be fair I didn’t take much persuading, as the genderqueer cult is naturally quite alienating to lesbians like me, aka: dick-inclusion policy dissenters). So you can probably expect some gender critical stuff on here from time to time.

Also, I’ve recently set out to change my life for the better by doing certain things to overcome my depression, lack of self-esteem, and lack of self-confidence. So expect a bit of that nonsense on here too.

Anyway, I hope I can entertain at least a few of you in the near future.

See ya soon!


P.S. That’s my cat, Flossy! You’re welcome!