My unbelievably supportive GG and I have talked about this..
I look at her acceptance and encouragement as a honeymoon period before a lot of the what ifs have crept in. I'm enjoying a lot of latitude and freedom and it feels good.
The only reason my wished for fantasy and my (at least for present) reality match up AT ALL is the happy coincidence that I, a closeted CD who wasn't sure what it all meant, happened to fall in love with and connive into marrying a cute girl who, like me does find the female form to be appealing or dare I say it, arousing.
If any of the opposites were true this would be awkward. For one example, If I had a soft spot for lumberjacks (I mean the Brawny dude ones not the Monty Python variety), It wouldnt be fun for her to put on plaid and pencil in some razor stubble, and swing a big double headed axe. In the next case, say she had always loved wearing those Sears Super-Dennis boy jeans that her evil stepmother bought her, we might have a problem. I don't even find GG sweatpants arousing, so how would I feel if she wanted to have a double mastectomy and have hair plugs added to her chest?
Thats really what we are asking. We want acceptance on our terms because of course whatever our gender identity is on the continuum, we cannot change that through willpower, neither can they on the orientation continuum. If it isnt interesting, it just isnt.
Having said that, when her early attempt to broach the subject of my dressing that she stumbled upon, I was devastated to hear that she would "have no problem with my dressing if that is what I wanted to do." In my immaturity I yearned for beyond acceptance to actual jaw dropping arousal. If she wasn't into it, I didn't want to even look at that part of me. What would be the point I thought.
From LONNNNG therapy-like talks we have had and lots more reading than posting here, and elsewhere I have found out a lot about Barbara.
She was formed early or was always there. It was non-sexual which seems odd given that I so eagerly wanted to include her in that way. She was shoved back in the closet probably just before puberty, and has had only the slightest peek at the world on really a couple dozen occasions in verses a total of 42 years developing my admittedly underdeveloped male persona.
Barbara is in essence a giggly teenager, reading tiger beat for make-up tips. she craves attention and acceptance. She wants to be noticed, she wants to be pretty,and needs constant assurance that she is.
I am rushing her maturation, because this feels too important to drop, and too fraught with interpersonal peril not to get it right.