addiction, gender, and coping (frank sex talk too)

I have been dressing up more often lately, although seldom for long. This is slightly frustrating. Getting all the way into doll mode/persona takes several hours to do right, and a minimum of an hour and a half to do partially.

(One reason I haven't been going "all the way" lately is because my only corset, which wasn't a very well-made one, can't be worn because one stay wasn't protected right on the end and has poke through the latex. I don't even know if I can repair it or not. If not, then that's several hundred dollars shot to hell. I've probably only worn it less than a dozen times.)

Dressing up is escapism for me- it's a chance to become someone else, someone who doesn't have the same worries and concerns as my mundane alter-ego, someone simpler, sexy, and beautiful.

There's probably more going on here than I at first realized. Many years ago, I struggled with gender dysphoria. For those who don't know, dysphoria (in general) is a clinical term for being mentally or emotionally uncomfortable, depressed, or anxiety-ridden, typically but not necessarily over some specific issue. Gender dysphoria is also known as gender identity disorder, although among people who work with gender issues, the former expression seems to be used to describe a milder, less troubling problem vs. the latter expression. I use it in that way deliberately, because although I once had some very strong anxiety concerning my gender identity, I eventually concluded that I am not truly transgendered, at least not beyond the fantasy and dressing-up regime. A big part of it, for me, is tied up with sex and eroticism, and my fetishes. That's actually a big clue that my gender issues do not extend to the point of being transsexual. I know I'd make a LOUSY woman, and while I fantasize about getting to be a girl temporarily, and pretty much exclusively in some erotic setting, I don't have any desire to become the object of my desire full-time.

Lately, I've been wondering whether some of that old obsession, compulsion, and paraphilia is what drives my (admittedly somewhat extreme) latex transvestism. I really need to talk this out with some other rubber dolls, and I was a member of some rubber doll communities for a while, but I didn't feel very welcome, and the prevailing atmosphere there was very, VERY touchy-feely, happy rainbow-colored light and unicorns, and nothing troubling or angst-ridden was welcome. Well, I don't live in a perfect world, and I can't stand to be around people who know damned well that they have problems but refuse to discuss them, and worse, have no interest in discussing other people's personal problems. In other words, they pay lip service to being a "community" with the intent of supporting each other, but when it comes time to actually ENGAGE in supportive behaviors, they're willing to do so only in very narrow, simplistic, and low-effort ways, and only if you pretend to be another happy-go-lucky, see-the-world-through-rose-colored-glasses sort of person. Well, I am not that sort of person. I didn't fit in.

Which leaves me with my partner for discussing these sorts of things, and uh, that's it. Since my partner isn't another rubber doll, she can't understand (despite my attempts to explain/describe) the depth and intensity of my desires (compulsions), nor how the pursuit of those desires fulfills me, nor any of dozens of other idiosyncrasies unique to the cross-dressing latex fetishist.

Damn, I am rambling, and not getting down on this virtual paper what I had in mind when I started.

So anyway, lately I have been dressing up more often, because it seems to help me cope with stress (of which I have plenty) but I dress for shorter lengths of time, because I don't feel that I have very much time to spare. I have to leave time for domestic chores, and sleep, and other routine daily life necessities. Another limiting factor is that I've promised myself I will try very hard not to masturbate while dressed up, because I am trying to "save myself" for mutual sex with my partner. We haven't managed to agree on (or at least try) some possibilities for mutual sex while I am dressed up. Sweat is a huge turn-off for my partner, and sweating when dressed in layers of rubber is inevitable. Plus, she has admitted that she is somewhat disturbed when I wear a mask/hood. She says my dressing like a girl doesn't bother her, but I can't help wondering if that's entirely true. And since a very large point of the dressing as a rubber doll is to erase my personality and human nature (temporarily), and to look as much like a very curvy woman dressed in latex, I look awfully silly with my emphatically male head sticking out the top of a more-or-less feminine (just ignore those shoulders, please) body!

But I'm babbling & wandering again.

I really, really want to make love to my partner while dressed as a rubber doll, but I don't think she has much interest in that. Now obviously, conventional coitus is pretty much impossible when I'm encased in a few layers of latex (which don't happen to include access means like zippers or other openings - this is just as well, since those things would just make leaks of sweat/lube more likely) but there are many other ways to pleasure a woman I'd happily engage in, if she were willing. I thoroughly enjoy giving a woman oral (provided she's clean), and we could even try a strap-on, although she has said more than once that she prefers my real penis to a substitute phallus. I guess that's not too surprising. Like most women, she is more interested in the intimacy than the acts themselves. I get the impression that sex toys are a poor substitute for the real thing. Tough luck then, that I want to BE a sex toy for her. We've talked about other ways we can combine my fetish dressing (perhaps not so elaborately, and with much better accessibility to my male parts) and I'm enthusiastic about that too, although a lot of my rubber boy clothes are in need of repair or replacement. Nothing last forever, and latex garments less than most things. Some of my garments are more than ten years old and have been repaired many times. It's too bad I didn't develop a leather fetish. Not only does it last longer than latex, my partner is far more interested in leather than latex. We need to get her some sexy leather things for herself. Of course, all of the above requires money we just don't have to spare right now.

But I digress again.

So anyway, I have been "saving myself" (in other words, saving up my testosterone and my semen) for when I'm not dressed up, so I have enough sexual energy to please her. This wasn't much of an issue twenty years ago, when I was an inexhaustible well of sexual energy, but I'm middle aged now, and more to the point, I get almost no exercise, which tends to reduce one's sex drive.

I've had one or two unexpected "accidents" though. (is an accident ever expected? never mind)
Three or four dress-up sessions ago, I became so aroused and turned on that even the small amounts of sliding friction in my crotch from walking around the house caused me to suddenly orgasm. There was almost no warning, and I nearly fell down, the experience was that intense. I had to grab the edge of a table and hold on until it was over. Normally (at least for me, and judging from what I've read, for most males) the male orgasm is very focused and localized in the genitals. But that one was more of a full-body sensation - I felt tingling and vibration and sexual heat all over my skin, probably because my brain was blending all of the sensory input together, and the sensations caused by restrictive, skin-tight latex were intense enough that they just got mixed up in my brain with the signals from my genitals.

It reminded me of the full-body sensual feelings one gets from MDMA (AKA "Ecstasy"), even though I haven't indulged in that drug in many years, and may never again (sadly).

In addition to that "risk" (so to speak) I know I have also managed to dehydrate myself a few times. Since I seem to be almost perpetually on the verge of dehydration anyway (because I don't drink enough water every day), and because I have health issues like arthritis which are exacerbated by dehydration, this is something I need to avoid at all costs. I also watch out for hyperthermia - overheating. I've been known to take my temperature when I felt too hot, but I've never shown a "fever" when I checked. But better safe than sorry. I have seen at least two reports of people dying from becoming overheated in latex! (in one case, cocaine was also involved, in the other case, no drugs were mentioned)

So now, when I feel myself getting "too" turned on, or if I feel I may be getting too overheated, I cut short that session.

That means that when all is said and done, I get less mental and emotional satisfaction from the effort - there's less benefit for the same amount of effort, than if I had dressed up in the morning and spent the whole day that way. I can't remember the last time I had the time to do that. I don't think the last time was this year, anyway. Probably fall of 2007. *sigh*

But I don't mind getting terribly turned on by dressing up, without obtaining sexual release. I rather enjoy building pent-up sexual tension, it seems to make the releases (preferably with my partner) that much more intense and mind-blowing. And quite frankly, solo orgasms, while they can be extremely intense, are emotionally LONELY.

There are worse, much more unhealthy, addictions I could have. I could be addicted to tobacco, or alcohol (yikes) or some other drug, like meth. Well no, I couldn't, because substance addiction scares me, and every time I've thought I was indulging in anything too much, I've stopped. Although I think of myself as an informed, cautious hedonist, there are some intoxicants I just won't ever try, because I think the risks - both of addiction and to my health and life - are too great.

But isn't latex fetishism a kind of substance addiction? Sure, you're not ingesting it, but indulging in it still causes significant changes in the state of one's body and mind, some of which are very attractive (else why would you do it?) and some of which are negative, like the high cost of custom latex outfits, or the risk of hyperthermia or dehydrations. Even though I would argue that addiction to a fetish is not as dangerous as say, crack, heroin, or alcohol, provided the usual addiction criteria are avoided - it's not negatively impacting the rest of your life, for example - it's still food for thought.

Well, this was a post that didn't really go anywhere, I just gave vent to my stream of consciousness.

Oh dear, it just occurred to me that I haven't pointed my partner at this blog yet, and I've already written three or four entries. We don't keep secrets from each other, so I shall do that today. That way she can read some of the thoughts which I seem to have so much trouble successfully expressing to her in our face-to-face conversations. For one thing, most of the time I write in this blog, I am writing from Morticia's point of view, rather than my mundane "secret identity", so perhaps that may give her a little bit of insight into the way my rubberfemme identity works.

Schitzoid? Maybe a little. I think of it as fantasy role-playing, something I've done my whole life, starting with dressing up as characters for historical reenactment, and immersing myself in the part when I was a kid, and later dressing up as Live-Action Role-Playing characters and immersing myself in those parts as an adult. But I'm not worried about Morticia "taking over". The female aspect of my personality is a part of me, but only a part. She has no independent existence.

All right then, that's enough babbling, now I have to leave the fantasy world behind and go to work in the mundane, un-sexy, and depressingly pragmatic world of business.

no news is good news?

Not!

The reason there is nothing interesting for me to report here is that my alter-ego hasn't been letting me out of the closet/cage much lately.  I've been enduring the drive to dress up for weeks, but haven't been able to, for one reason or another.

For one thing, my cheap, no-front-busk latex corset needs repair already.  Actually, it has needed repair since about the fifth time I wore it.  One of the steel stays was left with a sharp edge, and was never properly encased, so it poked through the bottom seam of the corset.  I won't be able to fix it the way it should have been made, but maybe I can fix it so it will hold up a while longer. 

It just needs to hold up until I can afford a well made one.  Unfortunately, that could be a while (many months?)

I have been oooh-ing and aah-ing over Katrina Jayne's pics on Flickr, among a few other really luscious rubber dolls.  (Connie comes to mind, too)  The next time I buy new latex, I really must get some colors that will contrast with my black outfit.  Aside from my pink gloves, I have only one piece of latex that isn't black, and that's a pair of teal pants.  They're really not my color.  I think I shall focus on red contrasting garments for now, and maybe down the road add some purple, which is another favorite color.

I just realized I'm making idle chatter, so I guess it's time to end this little post.