Crumbling Like a Graham Cracker

Won't it be dull when we rid ourselves of all these demons haunting us?
"The War on Drugs" Barenaked Ladies

We've reached a tipping point.

In comments for my previous post, Lisa and Shannon both made the point that we transgendered folk often think that everyone's suffering is related to our issues. It's a perfectly valid point. We're a narcissistic bunch. In this case, though, I was right. It was about me.

The wife came to me today to have "an unpleasant conversation," one she's wanted to have since before Thanksgiving. It was not my imagination. My reading of her demeanor and body language was spot on. The talk was very civil, only the content being unpleasant. My legs, it seems, are indeed a dealbreaker. This is the line that I cannot cross. She has allowed me to grow my nails and shave my pits, but the legs...it's just too much. Mind you, this one thing got me through last winter, happier than any winter in memory. Note, also, that I was feeling nicely non-dysphoric until this talk today. Bare legs make an enormous difference in my outlook. Sadly, the same is true for the missus.

Last year, we had one session of couples counseling with my therapist. In the course of the hour, my shrink mentioned that one couple she dealt with had an agreement that he would get to shave his legs for one week out of the year. My wife is holding onto this idea like a pit bull. Not surprisingly, she sees this a great compromise position for the two of us, instead of the four months bare, eight months hairy schedule that I'm following.

Most of the ground covered today has been gone over several times, both in our talks and here on these pages. I'll try to boil it down to the salient points. She feels stupid for staying with me. She can't talk to her friends about this. If this relationship is doomed to go south, she wants to find a new mate while she's still young and pretty enough.

She told me that she was glad that the two of us had had colds during the last couple weeks, as it gave her a good excuse not to be intimate, not to feel obliged to kiss or embrace. She is glad that we haven't had opportunity to go out together, as she doesn't want to sit across the table from me and carry on a conversation.

"If you want to have a roommate, just keep doing what you're doing. That's what we'll be: roommates."

Her therapist has suggested that my support group is full of people who are divorced or single, and that getting advice from them is a grave mistake. It's true, marriage is rare in any trans support group, mine being no exception. They listen to me, they counsel me, but I make my own decisions.

Me: Have you ever questioned that you were a woman?
She: (pause) No...never.
Me: Well, I question my maleness constantly, every day.
Later...
She: Why does dealing with dysphoria have to involve changing your appearance?

I could go on. I've been trying for two years now to have my cake and eat it too. Today I came to the realization that there is no cake to have. The cake is a lie.

What next? I guess we'll be roommates for awhile. She has every right to feel the way she does, but I am not backing down. My feelings are legitimate, too. I have a right to my identity. I have a right to do with my body as I please. I have a right to feel as comfortable in my skin as she does in hers. I have tempered my desire to do more, out of respect for her feelings. It seems that that is not sufficient.