The Straight Boy Diaries | Mr. Laxative

What the fuck. Yep, that sounds about right, that’s the perfect opening to start this blog post. I wasn’t going to post another Straight Boy Diary so soon but when something so unexpectedly happens, and is so raw (and traumatising) in my mind, how could I not? If you have read the first segment of The Straight Boy diaries | Mr. Debt Collector (part 1) thank you, and I promise to post part 2 soon, but for now that’s going to have to wait because little was I aware that Mr. Laxative was going to pop up in my blog so unexpectedly and so soon.

Let me start off my saying that not every guy who I have an “encounter” with gets the privilege to be featured on my blog. If you’re dating/relationship material you probably won’t even be mentioned at all. Not even random one night hookups don’t get blogged about because I’m always quite abrasive about these kind of blog posts because I don’t even know the outcome of them. When I decided to do this blog I made a commitment to myself that if this is something I’m going to do then I’m doing it 100%. But if you’re someone who I have an “encounter” with and something isn’t quite right, or something weird happens then you betcha I’m going to post about it. I mean come on, I’m a blogger. What do you expect?

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The Straight Boy Diaries | Mr. Debt Collector (Part 1)

Hi inter-fam,

Welcome to the first segment of The Straight Boy Diaries. The place where I take you into the taboo world of my sex life, and the men who linger in there. I used to blog about my sexual encounters (not clients obviously) back in the good old days and decided to start blogging about it again. WARNING these posts are not for the faint-hearted. Things will definitely become explicit and detailed so if that ain’t your thing, logout now. I am not going to blog about past relationships as such because I believe that’s too personal and completely unnecessary, but what’s the harm in talking about the one-night stands and random encounters I have? Well, apart from ever getting laid again of course.

Disclaimer – I will not be mentioning any names of the men that I’ve had for obvious reasons.

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An Imperfect Introduction

 

Hey inter-fam,

Welcome to my first official uploaded post. If you took the time to read My Coming Out As Transgender | My Experience thank you, although I do have a little tinnie weenie confession to make. That blog that posted I had already wrote about a year and a half ago for a piece for my friend, a transgender activist and amazing speaker Justine Smithies – this is the link if you want to check out her website http://www.justbeyourself.org.uk/

If you’re transgender and looking for useful information I highly suggest you check out this website (and you can read the original blog post I entered on there too, and you’ll also have the pleasure of seeing me pre-transition, as a boy! yikes!) It has amazing info, stories and much more to read. Also if you want to check out Justine’s blog you can check it out here.

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Coming out as transgender | My experience

 

Coming out is a scary thing, and sometimes the ‘what ifs’ can be the thing that prevent ourselves from becoming who we truly are and stop us from matching ourselves from the outside, to how we feel on the inside – and for me it was no different.

When we are kids we tend to be who we really are, we act how we want to act and say what we want to say. I think that’s because as young kids we don’t know about the harsh judgement of society. When I was a young child I remember constantly dressing up as a girl, tights over my head and putting on my older sisters lipstick whilst singing along to ‘Reflection – Christina Aguilera’ on the Disney film Mulan and remembering feeling such a connection with it – and to be honest I still feel that same connection. Everyone in my family knew I loved dressing up as a girl, my cousins, sisters and parents. My mother let me experiment, my cousins used to have fun dressing me up and of course my sisters liked to poke fun, but the real issues wasn’t from the playful teasing from my sisters, it came from mental and physical abuse from my father. “Poof” “freak” “weirdo” – I soon learned what I was doing was something that “wasn’t normal”, and that was the beginning of my fathers resentment towards me and my own self conscious imagine… and hate. Continue Reading

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