Vulgar sincerity

Oh, the exhibitionism of crude sincerity.

Roll up, roll up, come and gawp at Deborah's naked feelings. Laid so bare they are positively naughty...

Inner queen

Turn off, tune in, descend.

Switch off that outer 'reality' that they try to impose upon you. Put on your earrings, your ballgown, your stilettos.

Descend those stairs with the golden railings. In all your gracious beauty and sexual magnificence. Wave to acknowledge the applause.

You are the audience. You are the stairs. You are the First Lady. You are the Queen.

You need no more.

In-Debs-isive (as usual)

Feelings from all the place of my psyche draw me in numerous incompatible directions. Such clashes are certainly not the exclusive prerogative of the trans folk. It's the human lot, for the whole lot of humanity. At least in modernity. Was it ever different?

I accept my outer maleness, the influence upon me of male experience, and I accept my AGP sexuality. About the exact ontological status of my inner femininity I do not know, I can only speculate. The pull of it is sexy, and sexuality comes from somewhere deep. The relationship between one's sexual psychology, one's sexual fantasies and one's outer life is another complex element in everyone's lives. Let no one think that if you're cisgendered then all that is sorted.

I am interested in contemplating, in an open, non-judgemental way, the inner-outer and self-other axes (pl. of axis) of autogynephilia, alongside the female-male one. Politically I would like to promote AGP/crossdreaming pride, akin to gay pride. But I do not wish to take on the (online) public role that significant contributions in these fields would require. Hats off to Jack Molay for putting in the commitment that a prominent role in these fields requires.

As for the progress of my personal descent, we are back to the numerous incompatible directions again. I can't even make up my mind about what exactly I should make my mind up about.

Debbie wonders

Can there be (or is there already: my knowledge of internet trans is thoroughly limited?) a place on the net for people exploring autogynephiliac sexuality:

a) that is positive, supportive and exploratory.

b) that is intelligent but not intimidatingly academic/theoretical.

c) that isn't predominantly pornographic.

d) where the sexuality isn't overshadowed by concerns about dysphoria, transitioning etc.

e) that doesn't focus on crossdressing.

f) that isn't inhabited by people wanting to be 'cured' of autogynephilia?


I don't know.

Deb beds a shoe

Upon putting some old clothes into a recycling skip, I discovered perched on top of the pile within the skip, a pair of shiny black, silver-studded stiletto-heeled ladies' shoes. Well, I had to have them. In fact they were crying out to me, ' we want to be yours, Deborah', so it would have been harsh of me to have left them to an ignominious fate inside the skip.

Having taken them home, I contemplate 'are these shoes pure femme sex, or what?' I mean, I do my best, but I humbly admit that these shoes are better at it than I am. That night I took one of the shoes to bed with me (please don't feel sorry for the other one: she will have her turn shortly). Going to bed with women always serves to remind me that women are human beings: complex, sensitive, imperfect, just like myself. Empathy, responsibility and kindness soon dominate over sexual feelings within Deborah. Stiletto-heeled shoes, on the other hand, are not human beings just like myself. They are just sex, sex, and more sex!

Yes, sheer unadulterated female sexiness. The world doesn't offer much better than that. In fact I don't know why it bothers trying, with all its social organisation, its high culture, its education, its big business: a sharp stiletto stabs through all of these, piercing into the heart of human feeling. Just give us all beds to lie in and ply us with high-heeled shoes.

Deborah on porn

I feel challenged and disconcerted when I see websites that feature full-on, explicit porn right from the point of entry. They can make my own exploration of eroticism seem pathetic. Well, I thought Deborah Encollared was quite sexy, so sod you if you aren't stimulated. Will I look sexier if I burst into tears?

But, to respond to the challenge, I've never much cared for full-on, blunt pornography. An imaginatively erotic nude pose yes, but  'look at my big tits, and see my "come on, boys" smile' or 'here's my vag, go to town' postures don't do it for me. A classy film that incorporates eroticism into a fantasy feast for the subconscious, such as The Holy Mountain or Lisztomania I find far sexier that shots of couples bonking. I'd rather see Helena Bonham-Carter clothed that most online hot girls unclothed.

Why? Maybe because my notion of femininity includes delicacy, sensitivity, refinement. Hardcore is hard; the feminine should be soft.

This is all so far from actual female experience, all so bound up in male heterosexual attraction to the female. Yes, I know. And well I should know: that is where I, Deborah, exist. I inhabit a bubble bath of pure sexuality. So come and get me, readers!

Rejecting the hetero

I have been 'chatting up' some girls. It really is a befuddling, exasperating activity. So hard to read the signals on the spot, at the same time as putting on an ad hoc performance. I mustn't be too forward, mustn't be not forward enough. Don't way to be a nuisance to someone not interested, don't want to miss out on someone who is. And at the same time as all this I'm assessing whether the other person is actually right for me or not.

I've had my successes, but I strongly maintain that if you don't ride through all this to regular romantic success it needn't be because you're a 'love-shy' or because your inner gender frustrates it.

Why do I turn to autogynephilia when I know that if I tried hard enough I would get myself a female lover sooner or later?

Perhaps it is a rejection of:

1) The slimy, tortuous nature of flirtation and seduction.

2) The male role: making the moves, being the forceful one, etc.

3) The tensions and responsibilities of committed relationships.

4) The approval of (in fact, the need to uphold)  heterosexuality and masculinity by the conservative, the belligerently macho and the gross.

Rather than autogynephiliacs being frustrated heteros, perhaps we have an impressive ability to find in ourselves what heteros need from others (with a lot of projection).

With regard to sexual fantasy, rather than being a voyeur or the male who acts upon the sexy person, surely it is a richer experience to actually be the sexy person?

Maybe one day crossdreamers will open up schools to teach others how to become autogynephiliac.