Signed, Sealed, Delivered

I signed it. I mulled over all the suggestions, and talked to my counselor about it. I signed it, and I did not add a word to it. No demands for her. It's just a symbolic contract, with nothing that affects me and my current situation. I don't need to ask anything of her, because I trust her already. I was the one with a secret life. Now I will have to weather six months without meeting strangers from the internet, and having sex with them. Sorry, y'all. I have to ask for sacrifice from everyone in these tough times.

We went out tonight for a movie and a late meal. She wore a short dress and low heels. Yes, I was terribly envious. No, I didn't say so. I actually walk better in heels than she does, but I 've probably had many more hours of practice. She looks great, fifty pounds lighter than she was nine months ago. She's even dabbling in makeup on date nights, something she hasn't done in years. She's trying very hard to rekindle our relationship. If only I could go out in a dress too. That'd rekindle me!

At one point, she was talking about how great it felt to be wearing a dress. I didn't say anything then, but this will come up again the next time she refuses to see why the clothes are so important to me. It's much easier to feel feminine in a dress than in jeans, at least for me. Maybe women can pull up this feeling any time, but I need some tactile and visual help.

This time next week, I hope to be writing about coming out to my brother. Wish me luck.