Back From Fantasy Island

I was a little miffed at myself at the end of yesterday's post. I couldn't put my finger on it at the time, but sleep, and a helpful note from Sylvia, made it clear. My little fantasy about how I would live without fear had a big flaw. I can't control others' reactions to me, only my own actions. So, everything I wrote there should be disregarded by the sane among us, which at the moment includes me, I think.

Still, I've been thinking a lot about this all day. Fear rules my life, as all of you have long realized. Jerica made a comment about being rolled over by her ex-wife, and I relate to that. Viewed from far away, it might be amusing. Mrs. Leslie complains that she doesn't want to live with a woman, that I'm no woman anyway, based on my behavior and attitudes. Yet, she emasculates me at every turn. Important decisions are agreed on, unless we disagree, in which case we do what she wants. That might be an exaggeration, but it's a small one. That is my reality. If I had stood my ground on anything critical over the decades, I firmly believe that we would have split long ago. The formula only works if I am a doormat. Frankly, the formula, when it works, only produces one happy partner. Hint: It's not me.

There is much to like in my marriage, but the bad things eat at me. We are very compatible on politics, child rearing, pop culture. Yet, there is no equity. I frequently feel subjugated. I would burn my bra if I didn't love it so much.

Grappling With More Questions

I got some really great questions from Tina and Auntee Sarah, and I want to tackle a few here. This whole introspection thing is fun! Me, me,me. How about some more about me?

Sarah asked, How and where do you find your greatest happiness?

Besides listening to my favorite music, which leaves me elated, my happiest times have been when presenting fully as Leslie. I have many happy experiences, like the births of my kids, but the joy I felt the first time I really saw Leslie in the mirror (January 18, 2008) is hard to match. Though my first time dressed in the company of others (March 2, 2008) is right up there. I think knowing the date from memory is an indicator of how life-changing it was. My anxieties ease when I am presenting female. I still have the same problems, but I feel differently about them. If I were able to present as Leslie whenever I desired to, I am certain the giddiness would greatly diminish, but there is a wholeness that I get nowhere else.

Tina asked, What would you do if you weren't afraid?

This is the visualization question, I suppose. If all barriers were removed, what choices would I make? Well, it's all speculative, but here goes. I see myself living alone, but with lots of close friends. I am living as female full-time. I still have my job, which I really like. People accept me as female, not just new acquaintances, but those that have known me for decades.

Now, my own question. How stupid does that sound? I am a realist, and I don't see any of that happening. I feel like an impostor just for having said it. It's not me, and it'll never be me. Yet, in my heart, that is where I want to be. I've spent a lifetime wishing that things were different than they are. I see that as time wasted, time that could've gone toward achieving some part of my dreams. I suppose I am much closer now than I was, much progress in the last two years.

Still, it's a hollow victory. I am acting out one role for my family and workplace, and another for my local and online friends. Who is Leslie? Who is Mr. Leslie? I'm finding both roles unsatisfying and incomplete. I want to be able to live ONE honest life, not these two false ones.

Well, I wasn't expecting this when I sat down to write, but I'm leaving it as is because I think there is relevance in there somewhere. I still have a lot of soul-searching to do. Thanks for your patience. I am a hot mess, no?

Tough Questions

In the comments to the previous entry, Renee posed some questions that I've left hanging. I am not required to answer these questions, but it seems like an important thing to address, especially now that the blog has become private. More than anything, Renee made me think about these things more directly and critically. A good exercise for anyone.

What am I anyway?

I've spent a lot of years hiding behind the crossdresser label, appropriately enough. I certainly do crossdress, if infrequently, but when I'm being honest with myself, I recognize that I am likely transsexual. It's hard to know for certain, especially with so little real life experience at it, but given my small sample size, I know that I am more at ease when presenting female, and more social, less anxious.

Do I intend to transition?

A harder question. As long as the marriage holds up, I think the possibility is near zero. Out of the marriage, hypothetically, I'd give it about a 10% chance of living as a female full-time. I don't seem to have the drive to go forward with this, and that's fine with me. Now, lesser steps are another matter. I want to lose the beard. I'd like to lose the testosterone. I want to be able to go out in public from time to time. I would like to be "out" to people outside the trans community.

What is my motivation to stay in my marriage?

I love my wife and family, and don't wish to hurt them. I fear change, creating a new life and situation for myself. Finances are pretty grim, so a bankruptcy would be required to dissolve the marriage. I am naturally monogamous, and I don't think partnering up again would be easy, particularly in light of my "differentness". I like being intimate with my wife.

What is my motivation to leave the marriage?

The opportunity to explore my gender issues fully, and figure out the final answers to the first two questions. Learning to live without being co-dependent. Bringing order to my life, away from the chaos that reigns in my home, which would greatly ease my anxieties.

All these answers are subject to change, of course. These are based on current conditions and the relative emotional stability in my marriage. Mrs. Leslie seems greatly calmed knowing that my blog is truly private now. Accidentally outing myself is a huge fear for her. Now, if I share all this stuff with her, she might decide that living with me is intolerable, and I might wind up with the freedom I crave and fear. Be careful what you wish for, right?

Followup questions are expected and welcomed.

Brass Tacks

I need to share some things from my therapy session Thursday. Wednesday had been very rough for me, which I think was reflected in my previous post. M had read my blog when I got there, so I didn't have to waste too much time bringing her up to date.

It's time to make hard decisions. This will have to involve me airing my needs completely to see whether Mrs. Leslie wants to try any longer. I will have to put aside my fear of confrontation and conflict, and speak my mind. I find myself backpedalling constantly when we talk of Leslie matters, trying to take the edge off everything. I need to keep the edge, and add a healthy dose of openness.

I also need to change my conversation style. When we talk on these difficult matters, she does most of the talking. She throws things out there, and then I start thinking silently, editing my response internally, maybe giving a vague answer in the end. That won't cut it. I am going to start filling the silence with reflexive statements, repeating back what I thought I heard her say, thereby validating her communication. With any luck, responses will form as I do this. I'm sure she feels that I am stonewalling, when it's really me freezing up, deer in the headlights. I have to do better if we are to get over this.

At one point in the session, I asked what Mrs. L's motivation was to stay in the marriage. M said that I need to ask that question to Mrs. L, in exactly that way. It's the nexus of the whole maypole dance we're doing. She deserves a chance to address it.

It's starting to thunder, so I'm going to post this now.

Talking Points

Gawd, I'm glad to have therapy Thursday. Tonight was a downward spiral. Felt fine when work started, ready to cry the last couple of hours. Then the drive home, well, nuff said.

Mrs. Leslie wanted to talk today. So, we talked. Well, mostly she talked. About dishonesty, deceit, trust, therapist's ethical code. She feels stupid to have trusted me, and yes, I burned her in precisely the same manner as before. She felt that I understood that blogging was not to be public, that pictures of me were not to be posted, that Leslie would not venture outside the home or meeting site. It was in the contract, after all, that expired over a year ago. The expiration reasoning is the kind of excuse a teenager would use, she says. I knew what she wanted, and the contract was a formality.

I'm tired.

She thinks I just want to drop all my responsibilities and run away to wear dresses and makeup all the time. She thinks that if I'm not getting my needs met at home, that I will meet up with some online friend. I think this is why she wants my email password. Not...gonna...happen.

She wonders why I don't just write about skirts and jewelry, and stop compromising her privacy by writing about our marriage. I told her the point of the blog is to work out my emotional state, and she is a huge part of that. I do write about skirts and jewelry, but it's peripheral to the emotional baggage at the core. She agrees that journaling is a good way to figure things out, but why public? I'm kind of getting used to the private status, it's not the problem I'd thought it would be. People are starting to sign on, including people that I feared losing altogether.

I need to figure out if I want to continue with this farce of a marriage. I'm sure she loves me, or at least the idea of me, and I do love her. But this isn't enough, is it? I cannot continue to pretend to be the guy she married. I can pretend to be a guy, but a very different one than before.

I expect I'll have much to write about after therapy.

Waiting Again

What a passionate bunch you are! Your comments came from the heart, evidenced by their length and depth of thought. Reading your input helped me through the last couple days. Thanks. I think the music blog is going to be a great way to keep you all up to date on my private postings, and I'm glad to see so many already following it.

Before I forget, you should check out Jessica Who's First Blogiversary post. Psshht! One year is nothin'! Try doing two years, then talk to me. Really, though, she does a great job keeping it fresh and thought provoking. Plus, it's public! (Yes, I'm trying to win a gift certificate. Is it that obvious?)

Back to me, where the attention should be. Mrs. Leslie had her head shrunk today. She seemed very distant when she got home. As I was getting ready for work, she asked if I have an appointment this week. I said yes, and she said that she wondered if we would ever have the time to talk before it.

Makes me wonder what they spoke of. Not gonna be good news for me, I'd bargain. So now I wait for the other shoe to drop. As a result, my dysphoria is peaking in a way that it hasn't for some time. Probably still only a five on the one-to-ten scale, but its presence is not welcome.

I hate being a sad sack about all this crap. I'll never be Little Miss Sunshine, but the Princess of Darkness isn't something I relish, either. Maybe this will all blow over soon (riiiight!), or maybe I'll start seriously looking into a divorce, as some of you are counseling. I take no offense to those comments. You are saying things I have mulled over many times. I need to hear it from others too, when it's an appropriate response (like this time). It's good to know so many folks have my back.

Starting From Scratch

First off, on the sage advice of Jenny, I have started a public blog on my earworms. It's called, surprisingly, Don't Be Like Me! I will relegate my musical notions to that forum, and I will also announce new postings here on the private blog. So, all you need to do is become a follower of the public blog, and you will know when to visit here. Brilliant! Thanks, Jenny.

Mrs. Leslie decided that today was the day to discuss marital matters, as she will be seeing her shrink on Monday. We went out to eat, and had words over pasta. We have deep, deep trust issues. I don't know what keeps me trying sometimes. She doesn't hear my viewpoint, or more accurately, doesn't respect it. Such contempt in her voice. She is the injured party. My pain is secondary, or so I would be led to believe.

Is it a mistake for me not to apologize in any fashion? I am sympathetic to her worries, and I understand how difficult it is to have a husband that fancies himself to be more than a mere man. Yet, despite the "understood" boundaries that I have crossed, I don't feel that I should apologize for doing what I felt I needed to do. She hasn't demanded an apology, but neither have I offered one.

She is very disturbed that I would receive packages at my therapist's office. She says there is no reason I can't have things sent to the house. She believes that a trusting couple should share their email passwords. She's asked for mine several times, and I haven't given it yet. It's not that she would read my mail, just that she would be able to believe that I wasn't hiding anything from her.

She doesn't want a divorce. She has said it several times now. She seems to think that a marriage where I burst her bubble every so often is better than the alternative. I told her about how my bubble was burst to learn that she hadn't felt connected all winter, that she had me completely fooled and feeling guilty for withholding information from her. She literally rolled her eyes at the notion that I was wronged in any way by that.

Mixed messages, again: She got quite heated in the car driving home. She thinks that if I want to be a woman, then I should act like a woman, putting everyone ahead of me, making sure my family has all their needs met before addressing my own. I behave like a man, eating when I need to, staying up till all hours, isolating myself from my family. She also had a good shout about wearing a bra. She wanted me to understand that the bra is an masculine invention designed to control a woman's sexuality. Real women want to never again wear a bra, and here I am wanting in on this societal wrong. Fortunately for me, my wife speaks for all women.

Then, to confuse me, after we got home, she changed into the short nightie I got her a year ago for Valentine's Day. She wanted to make love after all this horrid venting. My heart wasn't in it, at least to start, and she had a little cry when we were done.

Try as I might, I don't think I'll live long enough to figure out the way a woman thinks.

Vive le Blog

Writing is great therapy, and good for problem solving too. After writing yesterday, I slept on the ideas, and awoke with a realization, one that some commenters mentioned as well. This resentment that I feel isn't about losing my audience, at least not specifically.

No, this is about being pushed back into the closet. Said that way, it's even more angering. As I've said before, 95% of my Leslie world is online. Now that part is three quarters smaller, conservatively. Plus, I have had it made clear that I am not to be dressing away from my meeting site and driving around as such. Another outlet gone. My therapist told me that I need to address all this head-on, not to wait for Mrs. Leslie to come to me. I haven't done that yet, but I feel confident that I will be able to express the utter insuffenciency of the current situation. Too bad, so sad.

On to brighter things. Today my favorite sister-in-law dropped by. She and my wife spent some time out at her car talking, while I was eating breakfast inside. My wife came in a bit later with a bag of clothing. My SIL was cleaning out her closet. I approached the bag, peeked in, and asked what was in it. She said, with some irritation, to wait a minute, there were some things in the bag for me! We went through the bag. She showed me each item, and made clear which were intended for her. I received three items. There was a dark gray silk tunic, and two untailored jackets, one a cream color, the other a pastel pink. I like the jackets a lot, as layering seems to be a fashion fave for me. The tunic I'm less sure about, but we'll see what I can do with it.

I don't know who had the idea to include me in the clothing handoff, but they both had to approve it, or it wouldn't have happened. I have wanted SIL's castoffs for so long. She has a great fashion sense, very feminine. Glad to be in the loop now. I'm wondering if Mrs. L is recognizing the new pressure being put upon me, and is trying to compensate with wardrobe... I don't mind getting more clothes, believe me, but it doesn't make up for my losses.

Ranting on a Minor Issue

This is really unimportant in terms of my life (lives?) and loves, but it's bothering me. Making this blog a private affair is chapping my ass. I have worked tirelessly to build an audience for two years, typing my fingers to the bone. So I was airing my dirty laundry in public...there were only about forty people in the US and maybe twenty-five in the UK that read me regularly. After that, a large band of lurkers worldwide.

So now I have exactly 23 readers, with six invites still hanging out there in the ether. I am limited to 100 readers overall. I officially had 67 followers, but the bulk of these do not have access now. Yes, I was only peripherally connected to many of these folks, but this is a big steaming hunk of attrition here.

Some of my best friends stepped out of the lurker shadows, including Halle, Eleanor, and Claire. They would not be with me now had the blog been private. That door is now closed to any new friends that might have been contemplating an introductory note. Plus, I have cut off several good friends for whom I have no email address to send an invite. If anyone inquires about me, let them know they should drop me a line. I have 71 unused invites burning a hole in my pocket. We're giving 'em away down here at Blogger City!

Jenny mentioned to me that the RSS feed no longer works, now that I am private. Has anyone else had problems accessing this blog, in any fashion? I'm pretty well stuck with this circumstance for the foreseeable future, but I am still learning of the consequences of changing my settings.

Thanks for humoring me while I vented. Maybe something more substantial next time.

Camping and Taxes

A very busy weekend.

Off to a state park with my son for scout camping. I was dreading this, as I have never camped previously. Happy to report that it wasn't half bad. Arrived in early afternoon, and the waking part of the day was enjoyable. Erected the tent without much help, and helped put up a canopy as well, under which the cookng would occur. Using my hands is always very good for my outlook. I don't do a lot in that regard, but big projects always make me feel accomplished, like I've done something worthwhile and tangible.

I didn't know most of the people, but I got on very well with almost everyone. Connecting with new people is normally very difficult for me (and them). I think Leslie was very near the surface, despite appearances. Spent some quality time bonding with the ladies, but got good man time as well.

Now, the night was another story. The day was warm and lovely, the night beautiful but cloudless, and the temps dropped rapidly. The tent site was less than level, and the ground hard and unforgiving. I didn't sleep well. My son had me up at 1am and 5am for bathroom trips. The restrooms were about 200 yards away, so we had to suit up pretty snugly for the walks. After the first trip, I laid awake for nearly two hours.

My boy enjoyed the event, and I don't regret it. Kinda liked a lot of aspects. At least, I won't fear doing it next time.

When I got home, I collapsed and slept three hours. I could've gone much longer, but I needed to file my taxes. They must be in the mail by Thursday, so this was the last day I could really dig into it. I used tax software of my mother's, as I have the last several years. This means collecting all my stuff and taking it over to my parents' place. It took me five or six hours to complete everything, largely because I was missing things that I needed. I made two trips back home to get things, and called home several times for other info. Exhausting, but happy to have it in the rear view now. We're getting refunds from the feds and the state, so all's well.

All this made for a harder weekend for Mrs. Leslie, who leans heavily on me those days most weeks. I didn't cook any meals or wash dishes this Sunday, so she was quite harried. We will have to have a talk before too long. I think she has therapy Wednesday, so ideally before that. You'll hear it here first.

Can You Believe It? Mixed Messages!

Women are such a mystery. A source of confusion for me in the recent uprising was the lack of anger on Mrs.Leslie's part. When she presented her accusations on the phone, she seemed more disappointed than angry. This, more than anything she said, made me think that salvaging the marriage would be very unlikely. I've never gotten this kind of response from her before, and it made me fatalistic.

That was Wednesday night. Since then, I have been treated with cool detachment, which I've returned. Phone calls at work have been short and to the point, unusual for her. We've been texting a lot. Tonight we were going over some camping issues, and the following ensued:

She: Although I'm happy you are taking (the boy) camping, I'm sorry we won't be able to go out together.

I left this unanswered for about twenty minutes, as I tried to wrap my head around it. What is my status now?

She: Did you get my last text, or do you not want to spend time with me?
Me: Confused by mixed messages. Doghouse one day, good graces the next. Ground feels unfirm.
She: Trying to look for common ground. Would you prefer I shun you or try to talk to you & attempt to maintain a relationship?
Me: Obviously the latter, but confusion is a legitimate reaction.
She: I don't hate you & I don't want us to fight constantly, & I don't want to get divorced. I appreciate you seem to have set your blog to a private setting.
Me: Yes, I did. I don't want to fight either.
She: Common ground.
Me: Okay.

So, I suppose we are working on it again. We will need a new understanding. I will require more opportunity to express my true self. Living only on the internet is for the birds. I do not want to get caught up in her pretending that everything is okay, then turning on a dime. Not fair to me to give me false hope.

All the comments were greatly appreciated. I always love comments, but it was especially important to get feedback in this situation. Many of you think I need to just walk away from this vicious cycle, and I do see the wisdom in that. Part of me wants to do just that. But I need to see how this plays out first. Her reaction has evolved into something new and different, a posture she hasn't shown before. Maybe this is a catalyst to take us somewhere better. I have to let it play out.

Well-Timed Therapy

If you haven't already seen the previous entry, you need to start there.

Sorry for all the confusion. I've never mucked with the privacy settings on blogger, and I wasn't sure what I was doing. I've now invited most of the folks that I correspond with. I have some followers I would like to include, but the invite mechanism requires an email address, and some do not list theirs. If anyone asks you about this, tell them to send me an email, and I'll get them into the system.

I was very happy to have therapy today. It was as serious as any session we've had. I had gotten her an invite and she was all read up and ready for me.

First off, I'm not a sociopath, as I feared. I just felt that my selfish push for more and more despite consequences might mean I was broken. But since I feel remorse, and guilt, and regret, and sensitivity to others' feelings...well, I'm in the clear on that count. M told me that she has seen this coming for a long while, but had to let it happen. She has believed that my decision to lead two parallel lives was not going to be a lasting solution to my problems. Implosion would come at some point. She also told me emphatically that I am not just a crossdresser, something that I already was aware of deep down, though actively denying.

I think the marriage is a goner, though I don't have a timetable in mind. I'm really not sure how this might work itself out with all parties still married to one another. I have now burned her twice, in precisely the same manner. I don't think she'll come back for a third try. Those that don't learn from history are doomed to repeat it. Yeah...

In reading the previous entry, M had two major concerns. One was the sociopath thing. The other red flag was the revelation that Mrs. L has felt unconnected all winter. Meaning, I'm not the only one being deceptive here. I was completely fooled by her act. I was much happier than I had been for some time, and felling freer to be myself, while feeling guilty to be keeping information from her. How is her deception any different, any more sympathy inducing? I was on a leash the whole time with her feeding me more line, then she pulled rug out from under me.

I had been going to therapy every third week, but we decided that every other week will be required for the time being. I sense that I will need to do a lot of thinking in the coming weeks, about what I want to do, and where my head is. I'm a lot better today than yesterday, but I would still like to hear from you all. Leave whatever comments come to mind on either post, and don't spare the tough love if that is what's warranted. I am far from blameless and having that confirmed won't hurt me. I need to hear some honesty now. Thanx, ladies.

I Have Effed This Up So Badly

As I write this, I am still processing what went down two hours ago. Mrs. Leslie called me at work around 1:15 am. I was wrapping things up to come home. She told me that we needed to talk. She was going to wait till after camping, but she saw that I have therapy Thursday, so the talk needs to be now.

You all know that we are having computer issues, and we are now using an old laptop instead of the PC. Things are set up differently, and I inadvertently left myself signed in Tuesday night. She proceeded to find and read my blog. The particulars of my deceit were soon evident. Dressing away from the meeting site, driving about as Leslie.

Heard this story before? Yes, in November 2008, she found my blog, and we nearly divorced in the aftermath. We agreed at that time, she recalls, that I would set my blog to private, that I wouldn't post pics of myself, etc. She was wrong to trust me. I freely admit that. I have been unable to strike a balance between my two lives, so now I will likely lose everything in one of them.

So now I am limiting access to the blog. The settings page says that blog authors already have access, so I am trusting that most of you can still see this.

Mrs. L told me that she has been struggling to feel connected to me all winter. I thought we were doing very well. I cannot read her at all, nor she me, it seems. She has become increasingly uncomfortable with my behavior, she tells me now. I don't know what to think. I felt kind of blase about it for the first hour, but I am sinking now. The tears are building. I can feel it.

When I started saying, "Don't be like me," a couple weeks ago, I said it lightly, but I knew the truth of it. I am a bit of a snake. Deception is second nature to me. Maybe there is a sociopath lurking within me. I have to question everything, I guess. I don't know myself that much better than she did. What are my motivations? Why was I compelled to risk everything walking this tightrope? The answers really won't help now, but I'm glad that I will have a therapy session this afternoon.

And for God's sake, people, don't be like me.

Hey! Why Not Ask?

I had a bright idea. If I want to know whether intimacy was in the cards Saturday, I should ask my potential partner. Did I miss obvious signals? Mrs. Leslie reports that she made me a drink as an act of kindness. She had a White Russian and a glass of red wine. She says that if I had made a move, she might have been receptive, but after the drinks she was quite sleepy, and not sending me any specific messages. So, there ya go. I am not completely ignorant of her body language. Congrats to me!

My birthday luncheon got delayed till Tuesday, and it was a rushed affair even then. Pleasant enough, though. A nice Italian meal, scarfed down in time to rush to work and become terribly sleepy. She gave me a birthday gift at lunch, a gold-plated bracelet (who can afford real gold right now?!). Very pretty. I'm wearing more obviously pretty things to work all the time. That makes me happy, at least till someone asks about it. This is still a man's bracelet, a little thicker than the silver one, but similar in design. It shouldn't prompt any questions. I'm glad that she is plying me with things that I can use in my femme identity.

She asked me tonight about the bags o' clothes that were in my trunk. She wondered if I had done anything with them yet. I told her they were in the garage. She said that she had cleaned most of her old maternity clothes out of one of the hanging closets in the garage, and I was welcome to use that space for my stuff. How cool is that?

I learned today that I will be taking my boy camping Saturday. I have zero experience with this, but I will try to maintain a positive attitude about it. Luckily, it will not be hot, as I would find that intolerable. I'm sure I'll have tales to tell Sunday night.

Post-Meetum Depression

A glorious meeting Saturday. Before it was over, my cheeks hurt from smiling.

I dressed on-site, getting a late departure from my house. It turned out that I had no competition for the LATTE (Leslie Ann Thomas Transformational Explorium), where I had thought that four or five others would be using it to change. Not the crowd we had hoped for, but a good bunch, close to twenty in attendance.

We were discussing the future direction of our group, throwing out ideas for presenters, talking about leadership questions. I even volunteered for an informal committee! Sophie Jean, of Freeing Hummingbirds, suggested implementing a phone support network, pairing people up who can talk things through when they get a little down or have a problem. After the business portion of the meeting, I sat down with Sophie, and we had a lovely chat for at least thirty minutes. She's quite charming and speaks just as eloquently as she writes.

Tina remembered that I had complained about my coloring after the March meeting, and made a point to say that my makeup technique is coming along well. She wondered what I had done differently this time, and other than setting aside the mineral foundation, I didn't have an answer. Now I do. I have read numerous places that one should play up one's eyes or mouth, but not both. Previously, I accented my eyes, partly because it is more creative and complex, partly because I thought they needed to be brought out. This time, I did very simple eye makeup, mostly just mascara and eyeliner, with some light shadow. My eyes are small and very deepset, and made even smaller behind my bifocals. My lips, on the other hand, are full and fairly feminine. So, in the future, the drama will be the lips.

Around 10:00, I had to march back into the LATTE and make myself passable as a guy. Sadly, all too easy for me. Said my sad goodbyes and went home. Mrs. Leslie offered to make me a drink. She made a mudslide for me, and a white Russian for herself. Now, I'm certain that Saturday is a "special" day for many couples, and we are no exception. However, we have never been intimate on one of my meeting nights. For the longest time, she would barely speak to me after a meeting. I had come to think that she didn't want my good feelings about Leslie time being associated with our coupling. Just keep those two positives very separate. This assumption on my part meant that I didn't see the alcohol as an invitation, which I now believe it was.

This is when my depression set in. Misreading her intentions, and likely disappointing her, left a bad taste. As Sunday when on, I became more despondent, about the chaos that reigns in our home, about children not listening, about the damn plumbing that has gone unfixed for months. It all became too much. I just wanted to lay down and have her hold me for a few minutes, but the day was such that I didn't even get to express how alone I felt. As she left for work, she called me Mr. Crabby, and asked if I'd like to go out to lunch Monday for my birthday. Caught off guard, I gave a tentative yes. She said that she will have a present for me. My mood got better eventually, and I report that it is past now.

I'm getting too old for this.

Replies to Comments

I had not intended to post tonight, as I have many tasks to complete for Saturday's meeting, preferably while the wife and kids are sleeping. However, some comments on my previous post were so amazing and on the mark, that I must write a bit. I'm sorry if you have to flop back and forth between the comments and my replies, but you'll manage. You're a smart bunch.

Jenny's comment was astounding. In three paragraphs, she explained my wife's fears and behavior in a way I haven't managed to in 200-plus blog entries. In Mrs. Leslie's mind, she is fighting for her way of life. She is utterly dependent on me, and is as protective of her children as any mama bear. She is scratching and clawing as gently as she can to keep what was promised to her a quarter century ago when we married. The newly found epilator represents interference from the outside, from an unknown source that she imagines is feeding me some line of guff, leading me down a primrose path. Totally wrong, of course, but that is her worst fear.

My new pal Claire hits some similar notes. A petty thing to fight about, indeed. I hope to have the talk she describes very soon, as I believe Mrs. L is overdue for some reinforcement from me. Incidentally, I am hopeful that Claire will begin blogging soon, so all of you can enjoy her humor and wisdom. I'm doing all I can to encourage her.

To clarify, Mrs. L has said nothing about the epilator. I only know that she investigated the return address from the packing slip, and checked out prices of the device online. Perhaps this is what anyone would do. Heaven knows I would have done at least that much, and likely much more. But, I'm a nosy Nellie.

Ms. Shandy has a future in comedy writing. Not only was her script a perfect analogy for my situation, it demonstrates the insanity of even thinking of fighting about such mundane things. At this point, I'm going to guess that there will be no fight. Whatever anger she might have had should've calmed by now. My hope is that my worries were unfounded, and this will all come down to mere venting on my part.

Amy and Melissa, you take this so personally! This tells me how much you care for me, and I hope I convey the same to you. Now, take a stress pill.

And lastly, Jerica, thanks for taking the time to comment. I've been trying to comment on your vlogs, and your page is behaving very badly. I have tried repeatedly to comment, without success, and I note that no one else is leaving comments either. Your page loads very slowly, like it's struggling. I'm not sure if it's your template or some widget that's taxing your page, but you need to look into it. I have things I need to say there!

Thank you all for caring and sharing, ladies.

Wet Paint

My little corner is getting smaller. Judging from the history on our computer, my wife found my epilator. I kept the packing slip in the pouch as well, so she was looking into who my benefactor is and where she lives. It's quite far away, so she won't be chucking any bricks through windows.

Mrs. Leslie has not yet mentioned her discovery to me, but if I bring it up now, as I was planning to do, it will seem that I am doing damage control. That was not the way I wanted this to go down. When I found this about a day ago, I felt a flush of embarrassment and a little nausea at the consequences of my omissions. Any confessions I might make now will be tainted by her discovery and whatever fears have been spinning in her head since. Now, the talk is loaded.

The fallout from this is still a mystery. If she brings it up, I intend to be bright and tell her how nicely the device works and what great results it gave me. I suspect she went looking for it after I asserted that it had been over three weeks since I had removed hair. She knows what stubbly legs should feel like, and probably thought I was playing some semantic game with her. My reputation for subtle deceit is well deserved. I've been dodging the truth for many years. Such is the life of the crossdresser.

With the kids at home this week, it's hard to imagine when we might get some time for a private heart to heart. I sense that the air needs to be cleared before my Saturday meeting. I just keep making my life more interesting. Again, my motto: Don't be like me.