Parting is such sweet sorrow!

[Sometimes Steffi]

I was out with about 40 friends last night, and didn't get in until after midnight.

My wife wanted to have the talk. You know. The one about how much my crossdressing upsets her.

Arooogaah! Arooogaah! Battle Stations. battle Stations. This is not a drill. Repeat. This is not a drill.

We drove out a little ways from the house to have a private talk without the kid listening in. Kid? She's 31, but who's counting.

My wife came prepared with notes. Talking points, so to say.

The first shot wasn't a shot over the bow, but a direct hit amidships. She said, "I married a man. Why didn't you tell me about the crossdressing before we got married. I'm not sure what I have would have done!" Could it get worse than this?

My answer, for what is was worth, was, "It was the last thing I thought about before I asked you to marry me. And I thought about it quite a while. I finally determined (or maybe convinced myself) that this was a phase that I was going through, and that it would stop once I was married." This is the truth. My logic was that I did this purely for arousal (you all understand this, right), and once I was married I wouldn't need an alternate form of arousal. Wrong, wrong and wrong. But cut me some slack. It was 1977, way before the Internet, and before you could find this in the library, without getting the assistance of a librarian.

She said, "You should have told me (what you did know) anyhow.

Yeah, right. In retrospect, I didn't really know anything. I thought I was the only person in the world that did this. I told her that back then I didn't feel worthy to be married, never mind worthy to even be a person."

Then I counter attacked. I said, Why didn't you tell me about that thing that happened when you were a kid that made you not like sex?" She said, 'I didn't know it at the time."

Then she attacked with all weapons at her disposal. She "reminded" me about all those times I disappointed her. All the family dinners I missed, and many others that I can't remember. I told her, "But your not remembering all the good things I did." and I gave her a list. I asked her to list some things that I did right. After a 5 second pause, I knew I was still in trouble.

The talk lasted a lot longer, but I knew from the beginning that I was headed for defeat. I was significantly outgunned, And I was so unworthy, so unworthy, so unworthy. The only thing to do was to put myself in a position to negotiate the terms of surrender, rather than having them imposed upon me.

So, I agreed to the following terms:

1. Spend less time on the Internet (talking with you guys)
2. Spend less time in front of the other screen (the TV)
3. Spend more quality time with her, and I don't mean shopping (together) for that LBD for me
4. Spend a lot less time crossdressing

She wants me home by 9 PM, but no later than 10 from my outings en femme. Since they start at 8, and it can take me well over an hour to turn back into a pumpkin and drive home, I might as well not even go. At least this still may be open to some negotiation.

So, as Shakespeare said, "Parting is such sweet sorrow."

I'm not gone, but I will limit my time here to mostly reading your posts and living vicariously through them.

Wish me luck. I'm not sure what the long term survival time is.