Urinal training 101

Here's something I never, ever thought that I would have to think about.

Men's washrooms.

Apparently the men have different 'rules' in regards to waiting for the cubicle toilet than in the ladies do.

We ladies line up, and in a civil manner, we wait for one of the stalls to open and the next in the queue is granted their turn.

This phenomenon is different in the men's.

You know how when you go to the grocery store, you look for the 'perfect' lane?

We think, "Ah-ha! This is the fastest lane!" and we make the choice to park our overfilled buggy, in hopes that we'll move faster than the lane beside us.

Sometimes, we're the winner in the race, and other times, we realize we have a dud and start ogling the other lines in hopes that we can still make up the time we've lost.

Well, I've learned that men eye up the stalls in a very similar manner, choose the perfect one, and wait in front of the door.

So, even if the dude next to you was behind you in the line, and they chose the fastest stall, they get in first.

Sounds a bit barbaric to me.

Anyway, last night my love went to a football game and found himself waiting in a men's washroom line up.

This is where things could be dangerous for Papi, and where fear could set in.

Men are mostly oblivious to the fact that Papi is transitioning to a man.

However, there was mi esposo, waiting in the men's line that wasn't moving fast enough for his liking.

As a knee jerk reaction, Papi scooted over to the women's line, forgetting that this is no longer an option.

When Papi realized this, he removed himself ...

just thought i'd let you know that i now feel more comfortable writing male pronouns ... i just realized it myself, so i thought i'd share mid-thought ... because that's how i roll ...

... and proceeded to park his ass with the boys again.

They probably didn't notice, because really, all they want to get in and out of the washroom fast enough to refill their bladders with beer again.

This is when my love finally got into the washroom and saw the bathroom stall phenomenon.

My love is still a bit nervous about his PeeCock craft, so he uses a stall until he feels confident that he can tinkle just as good as the next.

Also, that brings us to the other moment of 'hmmmm ...'.

Mi esposo asks me, "When men go to the urinal, how far down do they unzip?"

i'd like to point out that my love asked me ... how the fuck would i know?!?!  remember?!?!  penis phobia over here!!!

However, Papi has a good point.  You can't just go in and study men at a urinal.  Especially at a football game!

The testosterone is flying high in these kinda settings.  Mi esposo would be due for a beat-down if he stood there studying manly mens' actions at a urinal.

Seriously.  They're pumped full of liquid courage.

So there I was, listening to my love's verbal pondering and thought, "Damn!  Someone needs to help F-Ms out!"

There should be some sorta grooming school.

I know that some people will coach M-Fs with their fledgling female swagger and womanly nuances.

Papi needs some male coaching.

I'm definitely not the one to ask.

So, if you care to leave your suggestions in the comments box down below, I'm sure Papi would be happy with the support.

But really.

This lining up at the stall rule.

Dear males: What the fuck is that about?

**update, i thought i'd mention something about the Rah-Rah-Tranny issue ... well, this is my blob/blab and i think i'll stick to my guns and keep my blob/blab the way it always has been.  sorry charlie ... but i'll only be restricting it when it comes to outside sources.  thank you.  you may now resume you previously scheduled reading**

Back off bitches!

The Hen Peckers are at it again.  Only this time, they're attacking Papi.

don't you fuck with my baby, bitches!! i don't care if your a he, a she, both or none of the above, your behaviour grants the title 'bitches'!!

The Trans Clique is spewing their defamation about my love on forums.

They have no idea about mi esposo's situation, but they feel that Papi should be following their orders.

like tiny little soldiers we all fall in line ...

Papi's job is a difficult subject that my love and I have spoken about numerous times, and mi esposo doesn't take this job for granted.  Papi is very aware of the transition being discussed amongst management at this company, and is waiting for them to figure out this issue on their own.

You see, my love started working at a transition safe house for abused, mentally ill women a few years ago.  Only 'women' can work there, and only 'women' can be housed there.  However, there has been an M-F who was taken in.

The women were uncomfortable with this transgender person at first, because she still had a penis and walked around with a short house coat.

Yet, over time, they became used to the soul inside and accepted her as one of their own.

Stress the words; over ... time ...

The women there adore my love.  Rightfully so!  Papi has the biggest heart of anyone I've ever known.  Mi esposo is perfect for the job, because of this.

Abused, mentally ill people need to have this love in their lives, just as much as they need consistency.

I know that these souls would be heartbroken if my love were fired from this job, or even if Papi left by choice.

My love has been slowly telling these broken souls in a sweet way, that they have to be prepared for the day when mi esposo must say, "Farewell."

Slowly ... over ... time ...

It's giving them a chance to mentally prepare for the day when they have to let go of Papi, when it's my love's own time to depart.

Papi knows that time is ticking and that there will come a day when mi esposo must say goodbye, but just like in a romantic relationship, right now is not the 'right time' to break up.

Well, when my love was written about in the newspaper, the trans mafia read it, and are now spitting words of venom over the fact that mi esposo is still working in a facility that employs only 'women'.

What ever happened to free thinking, not being labeled by society, and supporting one another by understanding each other's own journey is just that; their own?

Nope.

The clan is saying that my love is double dipping and being a woman when it's convenient, and being a male when it's advantageous.

One of the biggest ring leaders is adamant that nobody label them as male or female, so how dare they label my love as only a male?

Papi shed a few tears from the hens pecking at my love's beautiful skin.

Cliques.

They are just insecure, scared beings who can't be alone from the clan.  They don't allow free thinking.  They demand you be just like them so they will accept you.

Papi and I are both one in the same kind, who allow each other to think how we feel.  We correct each other when we're too far away from PC thinking that may hurt another.  We love each other and the friends we have, because they, and we, accept each other for who we are.

We don't fit in to these mobs.

We and our friends don't fit in together.

So, in an essence, we are doing our very best to weed out the cliques one by one, find the real friends that we deserve, and feel the pain when the Hen Peckers break our skin.

My love is not hurting anyone by being at work.  Quite the contrary.  Papi's presence would be terribly missed.

If Papi triggered anyone into feeling that my love is an intimidating male, mi esposo would ask to be moved to a different facility in the company.

It's not the pack's choice.

Go on then.  Live your own life.

We'll be living ours with the people who show us love.

Looks like Papi will be making his own Trust List.

and yes.  it was difficult for me to type 'his', so shoot me.

politics, politics

Our home has been invaded by Americans!!!!

And it's nice to have them.  Especially when one of them is on your Trust List, and the other is an honorary Trust List newbie as of last night.

I see myself as transphobic a lot.  I assume this is because I have adverse feelings about my love's male transformation.

I'm reminded time and again that there are other people out there who would feel the same way if their love decided to switch camps.

It was really nice to be understood last night.  I forget that when I'm overwhelmed with feelings about the transformation that I have people to go to.

time for a trust list pow-wow i think!

It was not a berating of F-Ms.  It was an honest 'this is my opinion' or 'this is my feeling' or 'this is my veiwpoint' bull session.

We went from the slip of a pronoun to me making my claim again, "I can't call E a male, because all I will ever see is my butch," to "the M-Fs who want to be at the Michigan Womyn's Music Festival don't want to come to bond with women, they only want to make their politics loud."

Women's spaces are a touchy subject in our community.  For many reasons.  The Yanks told me about some F-Ms who will go as 'she' to this Festival just so that they can find the femmes and get laid.

Yes.

There is a reason it's a touchy subject.

When Papi and I go to play parties, there have been numerous occasions where we will engage in sexy time.

hey, what can i say, i'm an exhibitionist.

I only feel safe to do so if there are women in the room.

Just like the times I would partake in the art of stripping for our yearly women's strip show, Diva's Den.

In front of women, I am free to be and do whatever and whomever I want.

However, this year, the organizers started allowing bio-males into the play party.  I understand.  It's a business, but it certainly put the halt on my sexual escapades.

I am completely uncomfortable with anything to do with sex around bio-males.

I imagine this is because of issues from my childhood.

duh!

Regardless, I just don't feel comfortable.

This is where it gets messy.

I know F-Ms want to be seen as male, and to the general straight community, they are.  Yet to me, I can spot one pretty fast and all I see is an F-M.  Not a male.

I feel bad for this the moment I see them as such, because they want to be seen as male, but you can't hide those female eyes and female interactions.

You won't see an F-M pissing on a wall in front of a femme who is saying, "Really buddy?!?  Do ya have to do this right here?  There's a washroom right inside the hospital!!"

This bio-male told me to, "Fuck off," and continued wagging his willy right in front of my bus and the clients.

No, this is not the action of an F-M.

This is because an F-M is still a third gender.  They are neither.

I only wish my love could be comfortable as such, and not feel the need to swing the pendulum to the other side of male-ness.

dream on hard on

Anyway, this rant was a leftover from my Trust List and honorary Trust List newbie.

It felt good to be understood and told, "No.  You're not transphobic.  You have a certain taste of what you find attractive."

One more little stone to build my wall of strength.

One eye open.

A beautiful thing happens when you're willing; your eyes will open a little bit more at a time, granting you visions of skylines you wouldn't normally see.

What I saw yesterday, was compassion for the transgendered person behind the counter.

From me.

Yes, me.

A Blogger Friend, Dirty Cowgirl, had me thinking about the reversal of the transformation.  As example, if I was in a straight relationship and I had a husband who was going through female transformation.

The support would all be for me.  My spouse would then be the one being ostracized, and quite possibly harassed to a state of depression, fear or even suicide.

I'm not being shunned to my face, but I have lost a few faces off Facebook.  Which is fine by me.  Those who don't understand my grieving over the loss of my butch can go elsewhere and keep their eyes closed to my side of the fence.

this moment brought to you by the strength of my trust list

Here's where the compassion came in though ...

We were out getting a last minute wedding card for this upcoming weekend, and I was having a sugar crash.

this moment brought to you by not taking care of myself by remembering to bring water and a snack.

I went into the nearest store to buy some protein of some sort and the line I chose to buy my chicken leg was being tended to by an obvious F-M.

However, I say obvious, because I have gaydar.  It's possible that the straight folks might not have caught on to this one.

and ... i digress ... sheesh ...

As I listened to this transgendered person speak, it made me realize he has what Papi desires; a lowered voice to pass as a male.

papi is also getting that in between 'teen' voice that sounds like helium ... o good gawd!

At the same time, I saw this person had a caterpillar moustache.  It was about the same fuzziness as Papi's when it's all grown out.

I stared.

I dissected.

I compared.

And after all that, the only thing I saw was a person who is on the same path as my love.  I immediately felt this warmth of caring and wondered, does this person have the same support as mi esposo?

Does this person have family members who would disown them?

Is this person being ridiculed by people in public, because they're going through their male transformation and they're in that 'in between' stage?

I adore people in my life who are F-M.  I love their hearts, and that's all I see.  I've never really cared that they were F-M, I just know I love their souls.  Hence, I've never asked what difficulties they may have had to endure while trying to find themselves.

I felt I needed to be extra sweet to this person, because I just don't know what they've been through during their transformation.

Then as I was leaving the store, I was so grateful that even though my love is going through the 'in between' stage, Papi is so damn handsome.

My love's personality shines through any 'imperfections' mi esposo may see in the mirror.

Occasionally, Papi will express the feeling of insecurity that I might leave because I'm going through such a turbulent time during the transformation.

I now know, and verbally confirm to my love, "Well, if I've made it past the worst of my grieving through this, I think it proves that because I'm still here, I'm going to stay.  Don't you?"

I still have some work to do around acceptance ...

and the 5 foot clitoris!!!

... but overall, I do believe Papi's joking of, "Ah, she'll get over it," does have some truth to it.

It also doesn't hurt that I got my hugs back from mi esposo now that there's been more healing from the top surgery.

I have one eye open and it's really enjoying the brightness of this day.

Chapter One: Expansion of Trust

It was a day of days yesterday.  So much so, that I'll have to give you a 3 maybe 4 chapter unfolding of events.

Seriously.

I started my day with emotions from hell.  Not only did I feel like the walls were coming in because of The Countdown, but I had a visit from someone that I wasn't expecting.

Someone from the community, whom Papi told could come borrow the power washer.  My love was sleeping the Graveyard Coma and didn't tell me.

So, this person phoned to tell me they're in my backyard, and how was I doing?

how am i doing?  haven't spoken to you since the bomb was dropped and you obviously are oblivious to how difficult this is, so here ya go ... here's how i'm doing!

"I'm breathing.  I'm alive.  I'm a mess."

She was taken aback, "Oh no, well, while we're here picking up the washer, I'd love to give you a hug."

"Alright then, I'll be up in all my glory."

hair a mess, glasses off so i can't see shit, donning crumpled pajamas and a pillow face line ...

She gave me the welcoming hug that made the tears fall.  I blurted it all out.  You don't get to just hold me when I'm hovering over the Pit of Doom.  No, you have to save me to keep me from falling in.

I told her about The Countdown to top surgery, the 6 weeks of lying in a La-Z-Boy catatonic state November/December, and the struggle I've had just to stay above water.  I let 'er rip.

It wasn't what she was expecting, then she dropped a bomb on me.

"Girl, I've been through it twice.  Once with an M-F and once with an F-M.  I said never again.  Never again will I go through this.  The pain and suffering is beyond what anybody could ever imagine."

Then she asked me if this was spoken about before the wedding, and I answered shakingly, "No."

She looked me straight in the eyes, "You have every right to be fucking pissed off.  You have every right to let the wife you're losing know exactly how you feel, and fuck them for their feelings after having lied to themselves about this and in turn lied to you."

I crumpled in her arms.  I cried sobbing, hyper-ventilating tears that were familiar to that 6 week state of demons taking control of my mind.

She held me until my neck muscles, back muscles and shoulders stopped pulsating from my overpowering lungs.

"Come tonight.  Come to the party and get some love."

I told her of my fears of a Rah-Rah-Tranny and what those people could do to my heart when it's in a place of weakness.

She promised to hold me up.

I told her of my Trust List and that I've now collected another heart for my page.

One more added.  Another soul who just appeared out of thin air who knows exactly what I'm going through.

Why?

Why aren't those of us who have been there in the forefront?  Why are we forgotten about and our words are like a taboo sin to be heard?

I wasn't really planning on going to the gathering, but after my Trust List expanding, I decided I would.  There would be 3 of them there.

Still, the social anxiety hammered at me all day as I prepared my mind to get ready.

When Papi woke from the Graveyard Coma, I announced we were going and my love began to ask me questions about things we spoke about 3 days ago.

I'm quite worried about this.  Papi's memory has seemed to become a problem all of a sudden.

I told my love that I think it's the hormones.

it has to be ... it's the evil poison that is in your body

And this is where chapter 2 begins ...

Alive and Kicking

My love hijacked my morning routine yesterday.  Sorry if you came for a dose of my lunacy and there was naught.  I didn't get my morning coffee talk with 'you', my imaginary friend.

I got a car ride with my so very tired love who had weathered the grave yard shift, only to be up way past bedtime in order to get a new fluorescent bulb so that I may have a bright kitchen.

Papi, who's heart that is bigger than Canada, drove me around and spoke about the hair that was growing on that already perfect chiny chin chin.

Oh, I did indeed see it.  My love thought I just pretended to look, but I saw it.

Part of my day included going to my goddess of medicine who, like I assumed, would not give me medication for anxiety.  In a way I'm very relieved.  I don't need more chemicals roaming through my already imbalanced noodle.  I'll try some natural options and some good hard work and see where that gets me.

Another part of my day was out gittin' my 'do' did, and it's purrrty.  It's been 2 years since I've seen my hairdresser, so we had a lot of catching up to do.

Everything was new.  This included my new brain, which he got a chuckle out of when it forced it's exposure, my marriage, the sewage flood, us moving to the Dominican Republic in 2 years and (eek!) I spoke about my love's male transformation.

I didn't cry!

As a matter of fact, I didn't even FEEL like crying.  Not so much as one demon forced it's way to ignite that lump in my throat.

I spoke very quietly so that others didn't listen on in.  If they had a boring life and enjoyed the Andréa show, I'd given them enough of my crazy cosmos to be entertained by.

It left me waiting with apprehension.  I assumed the embarrassing water works would start, and they never arrived.

I simply spoke about 'it' and the fact that it was a pain I'd never experienced.  I told him with sincerity about how perplexing it is that I am in agony about the same person who is giving me love and support.  All the while I was dry as the desert.

Then he said something that made me feel like I was in a somewhat normal marriage.  Something that made it sound like a conversation, not just me baring my woes for someone to talk about with their friends.  "Wow, during my day today I had this weirdo in my chair and you'll never guess what ... "

He told me he knew a couple of friends who had been married for 15 years when the woman's husband went through female transformation.  It took her 2 years to decide whether or not she was going to stay with the spouse that she painstakingly watched change into someone else.

She stayed.

I was elated!  I can't even tell you!  I felt like I was going to simply float out of the chair back to my car.

I left with fresh hair and a smile on my face.

After walking 2 blocks closer to my car, I ran into my drummer's oh so very pregnant sister who was out on her lunch break for a walk with the in utero babe.  This is a sweet soul that you can't help adoring.  She asked if I'd seen a friend of our's show on the TV.  I told her I hadn't and that I didn't get the memo because I wasn't on Facebook for a few months.

When she asked why I decided to test my words again.

I did it!  I told 2 people in one day and nothing so much as a crack in my voice emerging.

Yet again, I was awarded with words that made me feel I wasn't alone in this world.  She has a friend who just finished the process of becoming an M-F 6 months ago. 

I didn't feel like the abnormal person that I assumed everyone would think I was for sticking this through.  I even joked a bit about how I saw her; "Hey how are you, I'm going to just drop a bomb on you for you to chew on during your lunch break.  You don't mind do ya?"

We both laughed.

Laughed!  No sorrow, just silly sweetness from another person.

I had such a great day after that.  I made myself treats, not unlike the rewards I would give our 4 cats and 2 dogs for good behavior.

Well, geez.

That only took 3 months to get a big portion of 'me' back.

I'm still alive.

Everything is going to be ok.

A Blink of Peace

There were no tears yesterday.  I don't mind this anger thing.  It keeps me from wallowing.  But man I'm cranky with the animals.  Hard not to be when there's 3 cats and 2 dogs in a house that isn't a home because of a sewage flood. 

I got through some yoga yesterday and my back re-injury is getting so much better.  I had a moment where I actually had sweat.  That's a good thing.  There's an couple of rolls on my gut that weren't there a few weeks ago.  I suppose binging on all those bullets shot me straight in the gut. 

And the butt.  So, the mirror is not my friend right now. 

I think the emotional binge is over.  I forgot that it seems to be evidence of anger brewing when I binge like that.  I have had my eating disorder under control for so long that I forgot what it was like to try to kill myself with cookies.  And dairy.  My sinus cavity is also my foe right now.

I've been supplementing my loneliness with strangers here on the blog forums.  It seems that I just need to aimlessly speak to people about 'nothing' at all really.  They also made me giggle.  They don't know me.  It's safe, and I've had company.

One sweet soul said he did read my blog and felt for me.  I had to jump off the forums right away lest I speak about 'it'.  I felt a moment of non-judgement and caring.  I also contacted a person who was an M-F and she had some love to show as well. 

I'm just so terrified of people I know in the 'real' world.  I tried to ask for help from one person and they pretty much shut me down on the spot.  I knew it was confirmed when she said she had no time to see me, but when I saw her hanging out with someone else, she had the heebie jeebie attitude with me.  I knew that she wasn't interested in supporting me.

Then I contacted another friend and told her flat out that I really needed support.  She never returned my plea.  These two people don't know that they've created a world of fear.  They're part of the reason that I can't go on to Facebook.  They're part of the reason I can't speak.

I am hanging on to the few strangers and small gaggle of wonderful friends who have given me sparks of confidence.  The people who don't terrify me in my fragile state.

I'm just so weak right now that I can't handle one more rejection, so having a few days of beautiful people who have adopted my heart and gathered the little pieces that have fallen to the floor has been good.  Really good. 

My heart is getting put back together by these amazing souls. 

Oh crap.  Now I'm having tears of joy.  Could you let up for just a minute?!?!?  Jesus!!!  Give me a break!

Stage 2 of grief?

It's interesting that when we're in a state of loss/grief that we think it's never going to end.  Everyone keeps telling me it will end, but damn I feel like this is going to be my state for the rest of my life.  This is when I feel like I want out.  I just want the pain to end and honestly there's only one way to stop it.  But I'm not going to be selfish and make others go through grief and loss over me.  I'm just going to remain the sacrificial lamb.

I know that when others are suffering, it's so bloody easy for me to promise them that there will come a day when the tears will stop.  They will look at me with those doe eyes of denial and take a step back from me and delve further into their distressed thoughts, alone and defiant.

I've been through grief once before.  I had an ex that became a heroin addict and I gave her the ultimatum that it was me or the drugs.  I knew what I was indicating.  It meant I was leaving, because heroin will win every time.

Off I went and the grieving began.  It was 2 years before I got over it.  It felt as though she was dead yet still walking this earth.  I cried every day for months on end, until I noticed the changes begin.

I started crying with a few days breaks here and there, and then the tear-free days started to outnumber the wailing days.

Eventually, I would only cry when those nasty hormones would come and invade my body once a month.  PMS would kick me while I was down and I'd spend that time waking up with those swollen, translucent eyelids for the world to see.  The evidence that I wasn't quite over my loss yet.

One fancy day came when I was PMSing about 2 years later that I cried about something different.  Those were the happiest tears I have ever cried.  I probably looked like a lunatic smiling and crying at the same time.  It was a glorious day.  I knew that I was getting over the pain and heading into the 5th stage of grief.  Acceptance.

So, here I am again grieving and suffering a loss, even though my love is still alive.  I'm losing the wife I married to an F-M that I haven't met yet.  Papi can't figure out why I'm grieving, because my love is still here and says they will be the same person.

My love doesn't get that all I'll be left with is a different version of the same shell, just like our home when it's done it's restorations.  In our home, we get to choose what it will look like.  With my love, it's a crapshoot.  I don't get to see this new person until it's too late and permanent.  I have the worst image in my head as to what my love will look like.

I know one thing for certain; Papi won't look like the person in our wedding photos.  Will I be able to look at them in time to come?  This is the person that's leaving me.  All that is guaranteed to me is I get to keep the mind and heart of my wife.

I'm starting to feel the anger of my love's male transformation decision.  It welled up on X-mas when I finally got upset with my love and expressed that my feelings of loss and grief aren't being respected.  I told Papi that the person I wind up with is not the person I married and will never again be that beautiful butch in the photos from the best day of my life.  I'm losing out and all Papi can say is, "But I'm still going to be the same person.  You're not losing 'me'."

Wrong.  My love is leaving and I'm being forced into an arranged marriage.

We've only been married since July and I'm already being abandoned.  I want my happily ever after damn it!

So, yes, I suppose I'm getting to the second stage of grief.  I'm angry.  I read a blog that I'm surely going to be showing to my love.  This M-F has gone through the transition and their blog expressed that yes! all your relationships are going to change.  It's what I've been trying to tell my love.  It's not only my love's beautiful body and skin that will be changing, it's also myself and our marriage.

I was able to express my feelings for about 5 minutes without crying and the only reason was because I was hopping mad that my love just doesn't get it.  I don't want to be angry with Papi.  I love my soul mate so much that I don't want any pain inflicted upon that wonderful person.  But I am starting to get angry now.

My recent back injury is calming down and it couldn't come at a better time.  It's time to go to the gym and show that rowing machine who's boss.  Maybe beat myself up a bit to get out the venom that's beginning to roam through my veins replacing the poison that has held me down for a month and a half.

I don't recommend anybody get on my bad side for a little while.  I think I'll still be keeping off Facebook lest I show my insanity to the world.  I just can't pretend to be the person that people have experienced as their virtual 'friend'.  I don't know who I can trust with this sick grieving person.

Besides, out of my 636 'friends' there, only a few have realized I've disappeared.  Thanx for the love.  You 'friends' really know how to make someone feel supported.

Yup.  I'm angry.  I'm just glad I have 'you', my imaginary friend to hear me out.  I promise to keep it to a simmer with 'you'.

I feel like a leprechaun ready to start fighting Irish.  Where's my boxing gloves?!?!

Possible.

I did it again. I spoke out loud and the tears surged forth like the downpour of the sewage flood we're recovering from. I suppose it is good to talk about it. She did have some good words to say.

Really, her conclusion is I'm in fear of the unknown. True. I'm terrified that I'm going to be married to someone who looks odd. There is no telling what my love will look like after the male transformation has taken place. It's so slow that it's hard to even say WHEN that new 'male' person will arrive in place of my beautiful wife.

Rachel said, "You never know. Easton may just be the hottest F-M you've ever seen."

While this is a possibility, it's my fear that keeps me thinking of people I've seen that look so unattractive (to me) and have the 'sucking on helium' voice. I'm not attracted to F-M people, just like I'm not attracted to bio-males. I'm a lesbian and hot, butch women are what I desire. This is who I am.

Yes. I'm vain. Yes. I'm looking at the future exterior of my love. But tell me, when you look for the love of your life, are you only looking for the mind of the person? Or are you looking for that hot sexy babe that you can't keep your hands off? Aren't you looking for the one who's chemistry mixes with yours to create the most amazingly tasty beverage of steamy lust? Seriously. We all do it. We look for the person who's outside and inside combine to make your 'perfect' person.

I found my perfect person, and I married her. And now my perfect person is leaving me, to be replaced with the unknown. We've only been married 5 months. We've been together for almost 3 years however. While I've always thought of marriage as just a 'piece of paper' that really makes no difference to love, I suppose my mind has been changed after actually having experienced the marital bond.

It is definitely different being married. It is a secure feeling. Comfort. Assurance. Confidence. Trust. I can see how people become complacent in their marriages because of this security, but in my vows I promised to love as much in marriage as I did up to the day we were connected by the 'piece of paper' I so flippantly spoke about. I've only had 4 months to prove this love to my sweety, and the 5th month has been nothing but me crying in fear of the unknown F-M that will be squatting in our marriage.

But Rachel is correct in saying that I don't know. I don't know the outcome, because the future is never revealed to us. Hell, I could die before the transition even happens and would have wasted my time crying that my wife is leaving and I would die having depleted the joy of our union in doing so.

Papi was just here a moment ago drying my tears, trying to convince me that mi esposo is not leaving. Giving me the comfort of a beautiful bosom to rest my quivering lips, squinting eyes and wrinkle etching forehead in until the flow of distress had stopped. Then kissed me with those abundantly silky lips and said, "I'm not going anywhere." I'll miss those pillowy, protective, gorgeous breasts, but I get those bewitching lips for as long as I want.

I'm married to the perfect person. My only hope is that I do love for better or for worse. I've had the better for almost 3 years now. The better person who stuck with me through a brain injury while I was ensnared in a wheelchair because my brain couldn't tell me how to walk. This person took me to Cuba in my steel, wheelable legs, while I still felt I was 'walking in a canoe on water', and while we were there, this perfect person held me up so I could walk through the teetering sand to a quiet place that was all our own and proposed to me.

Like a villian, here I sit, crying over the perfect person who may turn into someone I'm not attracted to. I feel like the most selfish person the world has ever been offered. I feel like the most shallow person I've ever had the displeasure of meeting. Who is this hideous person? Not a perfect person, that's for sure.

I'm glad I spoke out loud. It's one word closer to getting the 'stink' out of my head through my mouth so it may leave my soul. But I'll tell you, it was a chance to take. I could have been judged poorly like my ego judges me now. I wasn't. Rachel just said a few words that helped me think more kindly about my possible future.

I've always been told I'm too hard on myself. It's possible they're right. Possible.