As a closeted crossdresser, I’ve had many an ‘alarm bell’ moment – a moment when something unsettled me – a moment of clear and present danger.

Moments like this that I recall are probably familiar to anyone in a similar situation of kink, but I’ll list them all the same.

* Being crossdressed whilst alone, but being disturbed by someone arriving in the same place and having to panic to strip, hide the lingerie, and act as if nothing had been happening, and keeping a poker face

* Taking the risk to dress at home before work with a house full of people, albeit sleeping/in bed.

* Doing something in kink behind a closed door but with the chance of someone coming in – writing a blog entry for example, or viewing and posting on alter-ego social media.

There are probably other such situations I’ve forgotten or blanked out!

In saying that I am ‘closeted crossdresser’, I really should say that I am a ‘dormant closeted crossdresser’ because, as you might know if you’ve been reading my blog for a while, things came to an abrupt halt when the pandemic struck in early 2020 – around a year ago – when I was sent home from work due to an underlying health condition for which I needed to hide away.

I’ve been doing that for 12 months, with only the odd venture out for socialising when restriction levels applied or a very, very rare shopping trip or something similar. That left the only viable connectivity with kink being a peruse through Fiona’s social media account, posting archive pictures on a fairly regular basis.

But even that came to an abrupt halt last month when one of those unsettling moments struck. I won’t go into detail, suffice to say that something happened that exposed the true identity of the person behind the alter-ego.

Now, I’ll admit to being a pessimist, a cynic and often paranoid, but when certain things happen that affect my secret world, I tend to head into a form of retreat for a certain, undetermined period.

What might be described as moment of exposure was quickly rectified with the help of a third party, so quickly in fact, that the impact was either fleeting or non-existent. However, for me, that merely set the proverbial cat amongst the pigeons, me concluding that however fleeting it was, it would be just my luck for things to come tumbling down because of it nevertheless. I’m by no means complacent, and whilst I continue to have even the slightest connections to kink-dom, however suppressed at the moment, I know and remain acutely aware of alert to the dangers.

Just now, sitting at the home office desk, a drink was delivered, and although minimised to the task bar, the cursor was over the icon, which gives a pop up view of the two browser windows, one active, one under incognito mode, the latter with the blog entry being penned.

Now anyone who knows IT, knows that there will be something indicating what the icon is about, and in the case of a browser, the content of the page being browsed. The main window aside, the incognito window showed ‘Edit Post – The recovering cross…’.

Cue a few more cats amongst the pigeons – and before I ploughed on with this very blog entry, I spent a few moments analysing the risk and issue that had just passed before me amongst a moment of carelessness of the type likely to catch me out. The handover of the drink was fleeting – in the room, out the room, and they were gone. Besides, I was focusing on the work machine as far as they were concerned.

There, blog entry having already been in mid-flow, was a prime example of risk and danger. Surely, it wouldn’t take much to do a bit of googling by them and…well, the rest doesn’t bear thinking about.

Anyway, back to the case in point, the third-party intervention. With a few questionable visits to my ‘hetero’ social media (which were probably something and nothing), the fact that the incident had happened was enough to send me into retreat. Everything I’d been posting almost daily by way of regular archive pics from at least 12 months ago – stopped and I didn’t even log in to the account either. It didn’t matter to me at all for as long as something told me to leave well alone.

I made a return to the account over a month later. Had anyone missed me? Of course not. I hadn’t posted – that was that. The Twitterscape is a long and wide scape where no-one really sees most things, the whole media always churning away at quite a pace. I can hear you saying “So what was there to worry about?”

As I said, I do not seek to be complacent. However, I have returned more to the fold and have posted a few more archive images. Unfortunately, as has been the case before, I have health concerns, probably something I need not worry about and time will be a healer, but it is another instance that has a tendency to send me into retreat, dependent on how I’m feeling day to day.

The aches and pains come and go, I’ve sought medical help and advice and nothing has rung any alarm bells. It’s probably just a bug I need to shake off or await any help from a referral for something more long standing that might need a little op, and in the main, I’m feeling OK more often than I’m not. Again, I’m not complacent, but I am ever-so-slightly paranoid.

Whilst I know there are people at the end of Fiona’s DMs who are supportive, all ends up at the moment, and although it might take some time – and there is plenty of that around at the moment due to the effects of the pandemic, I’m still distinctly unsettled.

Thanks for reading – until next time – take care and stay safe. None of us are out of the woods yet.