but i'm not straight!!!

4.25 cups.

That's my threshold.

Mind you, I should specify here, that my one 'cup' of coffee is 16 oz.

Well, I couldn't drink anymore because my tummy was thoroughly offended and decided we were done. 

I had to appease the demonic organ by eating my version of white trash pasta.

Rice pasta, non-dairy butter and bacon.

It's a whole wallup of sodium, fat and comfort.

The Mrs. wanted me to share, but that wasn't going to happen, unless I happened to puke it all back up again.

I'll forget about this whole coffee debauchery thing for another year.

I also won't launch into how I didn't get to sleep until 3:30 because my heart was tap dancing against my ribs.

Some beautiful friends came by to indulge in coffee with me.  Well, one of them drank it.  The other celebrated with some yummy, creamy, sugary delight that had caffeine in it.

Still counts!

Anyway, we got to talking about my blog, and the experience I had with Papi's male transformation.

I was saying how we're going to be fine when we're in the Dominican Republic, because Papi is looking more male.

One of these lovely ladies told me, "I have only ever seen him as a dude."

It's so strange how perception is reality.

One person's view can be completely different than anothers.

While we were talking, I realized that there's something that I didn't notice, but I no longer sense that funky man stink that I'd been so uncomfortable with.

Either Papi's scent has calmed down, or I have calmed down.

One of us has calmed down and I'm not having that difficulty anymore.

Through talking, I found that the only problem I'm hanging onto is the fact that I'm considered straight.

People see me that way anyway.  They wouldn't jump to any conclusions about the fact that I actually married a woman, who transformed into a man.

Nope.

The moment I say, "My spouse ..." they just jump into calling mi esposo by a male pronoun.

It bugs the fuck out of me.

I can't just launch into, "Well, actually ... " with strangers.  I just have to allow them to think this way.

It pisses me off.

It makes me cringe.

I want to jump up on to the couch, like a psychotic Tom Cruise.

But I don't.

I just sit there and do my best to pay attention to what the people around me are saying while the whole time I'm thinking in my head, "But I'm not straight!!!!!  I'm a femme!!!!"

Or better yet, "I don't do penes!!!!"

Yeah.  That one always seems to run through my head.  Probably a good thing that it just stays there.

That would really fuck people up to try and put 2 + 2 together.

i am safe