It is not quite five a.m. as I write this. This morning my dysphoria is at vibration level. I do not need to consult a certified therapist to figure out what is causing my anxiety. Without giving anything of the man’s real life away, I will tell you this next few days is going to be like my earlier post ‘Joyful’, on steroids.
Sweetie and I are going to a fancy dress party this weekend. Unlike those other ladies around Blogistan who might write about their colourful gown, how it is cut, the neckline, what style heels and how they will accessorize, I will remind you that I am maintaining a façade. My sweetie and I have an agreement that I will not out her to our friends. I love her and a promise is important to me. Her love and support has sometimes been the only thing that kept me from saying goodbye to this sad story called my life. So, I will suck it up and be the man, literally. I will revel in her beauty (and she is beautiful). I will support her and do what I can to make her look good.
I will wear a very classic man’s outfit. In other words, disappear into the background, allowing the other ladies around me to glitter and dazzle. I will not glitter. I will not dazzle. I will look and act my part as a …. Nothing.
Façade sucks. I hate it.
There is no doubt that I will get over this, somehow, because that is what I have done for fifty years now. I suck it up and get on with it, as the man I learned to appear to be. But you know what? This time it is going to be better and easier, because under all that guy look, I will still be me, watching and learning so that some day, I will have a chance to be the real me. Just not this weekend.