Contractual Obligation

"Every loser gives up what hurts most" -- Aimee Mann--

A moment of panic today. My cell rang as I sat in the waiting room at my therapist. The missus was calling. She had just left her first appointment with her therapist. She said that she and I need to have a meeting. We have to write a contract, documenting our needs and limits. A good place to receive that call, as it gave me a raw fear to discuss in session.

My fear is that this is all about setting limits for me and my sartorial quirks, an effort to build a cage around my exploration of my new self. Maybe I've got it all wrong. Perhaps it's just setting boundaries as a foundation on which to rebuild our trust. But the cynic in me (and she's always close by) is sure this is going to turn into a Leslie-bashing. I am filled with dread. This will be a rough negotiation even if tempers stay calm.

My therapist seemed genuinely worried about this. She told me not to give up too much, that I have the same rights to my humanity as my wife. If I'm the only one bending, I need to back up and punt. Live to cry another day. This discussion hasn't been scheduled yet, but I will report when the snit hits the fan.