Tiresius Knows

If any of you recognize this moniker, you are old, like I am. Tiresius Knows was a column in Nugget, a magazine to which I subscribed. The writer was a male predecessor of the transgender generation. Transvestite does not describe him. He was a woman wannabe without the modern tools. He dated as we did, but had preferences that we generally did not. You know, “Boys will be girls.” The above is a shot from Nugget. Click on it to read the text.

By the way, I have a few years’ magazines with full color to sell, if you are interested.

I read his column because I felt that he needed someone out here who cared. Aside from that, I was interested in how the other side felt. Sure, there were respondents to his column, but most were needy as in, “please, can you help me with this problem?” The respondents were similar to his ilk: trans-sexual wannabies, cross-dressers, transvestites, etc. Some were hairy and ugly as far as a woman were to be appreciated. The “then politically correct vocabulary” was brutal. Tiresius Knows accepted all questions with equanimity. He answered from his vast knowledge and experience with compassion. Still, on the long run, the magazine, which hosted his column, canned him. At some point, he was no longer there.

It is strange that I cared for all this. I enjoyed the magazine for it had stories and photos of prurient interest not too weird, yet provocative. He was a steady support of the males who did not quite measure up as males, rather, wanted the female aspects in their lives. There were no such things as shemales or sex change procedures at that time. Males could be males, or dress and pretend to be females. As for females wanting to be males, well, forget it.

I read his columns with interest. Your reading this might think that I was one of those girly boys who wanted to know the detail in how to hide my cock, shave without a 5-oclock shadow, and look less than ridiculous in makeup as I try to pick up a stud. No, I never had the yearning. Aside from that, I would have looked like a transvestite with a really bad attitude and a beard.

It is now some decades later. I wonder how Tiresius Knows fared. He did sound like a likeable and caring person. It is too bad that the magazine wasted his contribution. But, that is evolution. We adapt or we become extinct. He and his ilk are now extinct. With modern medicine, politically correct approach, and plenty of money, one can become male, female, and then male again, at a whim.

I am not making light of those who have this yearning to change gender. I genuinely feel for them. I corresponded with one whose chosen name was Brittany Lynn Roche. He, and then later, she, made a very poignant point in her life as she chose the hard way of transition. It came late in her life, and I doubt that she could really cash in on the results. In any case, she gave it much effort and angst and succeeded. She deserves the rewards as dubious as they may be. My sympathy to those who did not quite make it, and my salute to those who did!

The Ultimate Fantasy

I have a very capable imagination. It has been instrumental in creating very real things that were used by me, my family, my community, and customers in general. Creativity is a realized form of fantasy. When it is useful, such as in art, craft, engineering, science, and yes, in theory, it can pay tremendous dividends.

My imagination has also steered me toward fantasy in other useful ways. I am a writer among other things, and without my applied imagination I would have to resort to writing reports on known things, which may not be coveted by many.

Fantasy is what I call a manifestation of applied imagination. Fantasy has other values. One can live and practice scenarios that may become familiar enough to be useful in everyday life. See, for example, the book Psycho Cybernetics by Maxwell Maltz. It can help in your job, in your relationships, or a yet to meet situation. These are often realistic fantasies dealing with what you are likely to encounter.

Then there are fantasies that are just for fun. All of you have used them, most often in a sexual scenario prior to or during sex whether self-induced or shared. They are great to enhance, even enable, your achievement of your goal. They are harmless as long as you keep them to yourself. Once you share them with someone, you are getting out of your safety zone and undesired things can happen.

I recently ran across a blog by Sarah who writes The Male Chastity Blog. Besides being a good writer, she has a clear-thinking way of presenting her material. There are many comments on her postings, most are by people of better education and clearer intellect than what one sees on blogs and forums dealing with male chastity and orgasm denial. If you were interested in the subject, you would enjoy reading this blog. The connection to her blog and this posting has to do with her dilemma: she is considering the idea of permanent orgasm denial applied to her husband. I believe that she is leaning toward not doing it, but she has the option to apply it any time.

She deals very well with the terms and meanings with respect to chastity and orgasm denial. She understands the implications as they apply to herself and her husband. She knows fantasy from reality, and the value of each even when they overlap.

I have used the term “ultimate fantasy” in my writing a few times, usually in fiction. I have never experienced it, although I have imagined doing so in the safety of my well-buttoned-down mind. My characters, on the other hand, have experienced it for real. I have also read novels of erotic fiction where the characters experience it willingly or by force. They are harmless, if not actually carried out.

In the case of Sarah she would feel powerful imposing this permanent orgasm denial. Alas, according to her, it would be irreversible: once her decision is made, there is no backing out of it. She knows that enforcing this would deprive her of some pleasures that she is now taking. I agree: she would miss some specific pleasures that are now provided by her husband at the cost of demonstrating her power. However, a more important issue is how her husband would adapt to the new edict. In his fantasy, which he is living already, he has an opportunity to be awarded an orgasm of his own. Although his main joy is experiencing her orgasm over and over again, he still has something in addition to look forward to. Not so if he knows that he will never be allowed orgasm again. It may be living his ultimate fantasy while she tells him that he has had his last orgasm, and from here on it is only hers that he will feel. It may even work for a while to fuel his enhanced fantasy. At the same time he will begin to feel the hopelessness of experiencing what he had, albeit seldom, before. It would change his life. It would increase his frustration. Their relationship would eventually suffer, unless neither one truly believed the final decree to be binding.

The only way that decree could be truly final is by a physical or surgical alteration of his anatomy that would preclude orgasm. In many novels of prurient nature this sort of thing is standard fodder. A man sacrifices his parts, and undergoes penectomy, castration, and or other mutilation either willingly or through force. Once done, the ultimate fantasy has been experienced, there is no return. Whatever follows is going to be different from before. Strangely, this sort of sacrifice happens in real life. If you dig a bit on the Internet, you run into a lot of grisly do-it-yourself surgery home-style alterations, methods, tools, and supplies to support it. I have done such research to support my writing. What I have not researched is how these individuals fare after their ultimate sacrifice. I have never read any real scenario that was legitimately documented. My advice, “Don’t try this at home, it’s a one-way trip.”

As for the members of cheap forums where they claim to have experienced this sort of ultimate fantasy, well, they are harmlessly staying in their fantasies with their genitals intact. You can spot these fakes as soon as they begin to describe how their partners forced them to undergo chastity or the ultimate sacrifice by whatever means: physical force, blackmail, enchantment, entrapment, etc. Their parts may be encased in a self-applied device that keeps them chaste until the next time they decide to masturbate while conjuring up the familiar event. Then the cycle repeats. Then there are those who pretend to be a dominant female who, also, forced her man into chastity and permanent orgasm denial, etc. Fun to read about it as long is it does not sound like it was written by a first-grader. Even so, it becomes blase. As Sarah said, "The fact is the whole notion of enforced male chastity is pure fantasy."

It's Not Where You Go, But How You Get There ...

Vacations

When our children were small we used to make annual trips to a place about 800 miles from home. We spent some weeks planning the trip, then several days collecting all the items that we would need on the road, and once we arrive for a week’s camping in the wilderness. The entire effort was tiring, expensive, but fun. We had a goal, a target, and we looked forward to being there for a few days.

I, being in charge of all hard labor, having a reliable vehicle, insuring that all camping equipment would be functional, making sure that our home would be watched, had my own role and responsibility. MW was more into smaller details, such as the planned menu and food items, children’s clothes, first aid, etc. The children on the other hand, were into the mode of “can we go now, please?”

The day arrived when we packed and left home before dawn. In a few minutes everyone except me was asleep as I drove toward our destination. Just as well, for all I would hear on the way was complaints, “are we there yet?” MW did not complain, but she did sleep a lot to the monotonous drone of the engine and the tires on the road. At the end of the first day we usually stayed overnight at some campground before continuing to our destination the next day.

Once we arrived, MW and I set up camp. The children ran wild as expected. Life was good for the moment. We relaxed some, and we worked to keep the little buggers fed, washed, and bandaged as they got into scrapes and cuts. All was going as planned. After our stay we packed again and headed home, essentially reversing the upward trip. The children couldn’t wait to get home to play their games and watch their TV shows.

In all of this I continually had a nagging concern, that of our wasting moments. It was always a symptom of looking forward to things to come, and yet not appreciating what we were experiencing from moment to moment. I don’t know whether this feeling comes with age or wisdom. Children certainly don’t exhibit it. I enjoyed the planning, the sorting of our goods, the packing, and the departure. I looked forward to the very tiring but fascinating drive. I anticipated the known landmarks with fervor. Even the minor annoyances, such as blown tires, changing a diaper, and pulling into a gas station on fumes were part of a great adventure. My feeling was, to paraphrase my favorite saying, “It’s not were you go, but how you get there!” Once you are there, the challenge seems to be diminished or gone. You live with all the thrills of you vacation spot, and it becomes regular, commonplace, expected.

Being in FLR

The whole FLR thing is much like my described vacations of many years ago. It took some years to get from vanilla marriage to this point. The road to get here was rocky with many ups and downs and confusing side roads that led nowhere. All along I may have expected utopia consisting of full-time service to my wife. Now that I am there, I feel guilty for a couple of reasons.

The most compelling reason is that in my haste and anticipation I missed the pleasure and joy of our learning together and rushing in support of this goal. Sure, I remember some, and I wrote about it to preserve some of our fondest memories. What I did not realize over the last four years is that the way to get here was more fun, more precious, and more valuable than what I think I have now.

The lesser reason why I feel some guilt is being in the maintenance mode. I am not bored with it; just that, I miss the challenge and partial rewards that came with the trip.

Losing Interest

I began this blog with some enthusiasm in 2007 to chronicle my Female Led Relationship (FLR). It has been fun. However, as I explained in Evolution, things change.

Back a while I expressed my feeling that I needed more than just to write about FLR, chastity, denial, D/S, and other kink. I explained my position in My Interest in Blogging About FLR is Waning.

As I evolve I am beginning to lose interest in reading and writing about this subject. For one, there are already many blogs that do it justice, and two, there are many others that do it injustice. Given that, there is little that I can add. I am not giving up on FLR itself, just that I am getting bored with reading and writing about it as a saga. I am still very interested in personally experiencing it. I am also involved in critiquing it, writing essays, and analyzing FLRs. As for recording my day-to-day experiences, I cannot really compete with some blatant blogs of sexually explicit details, and I don’t have the interest to do so.

As to where I go from here, it remains to be seen. I like to write. I have written many short stories, and one of the books, see Jason's Deliverance. I have material for others, and I feel the need to work on them. I may check in from time to time. I will continue to read some of my favorite blogs for now. You know who you are based on the comments I have left. I may post some significant event and take a different course. As I have said, it is evolution.