I came out to my wife tonight.
It was not at all the way I wanted to tell her. I wanted to be prepared; I wanted to have the words all lined up in my head, ready to go; I wanted it to be at a time when things weren’t tense or emotional. I failed on all three counts! It was unplanned and unrehearsed and in a moment of high emotion. Despite all that, it felt like the right moment, and so I did it.
I am electing not to go into the details of the conversation here. It would involve talking about broader marital issues I don’t want to share. But suffice to say that I thought that coming out at that moment would help us resolve some larger issues in our marriage, issues that I had recently come to view as stemming in part from my own repressed feelings about dressing. Did it help? That’s a long-term question, one impossible to answer immediately.
In the short term, however, I can say that I am in an incredibly good mood this morning, because I was one of the lucky ones. I have a wife who did not freak out, did not laugh in my face, did not kick me out, did not tell me to stop. Instead, she was understanding and open and she thanked me for my honestly. It was probably the best outcome I could have asked for, given our circumstances. Heck, I think I would have been a little weirded out if she had really gotten into it right away!
Telling the wife was not the end of a journey, but the beginning of one. It means I can stop hiding a side of me from her. It means I can have conversations with her that I could not have previously. It means that we might share interests that we previously could not share. It means I can let go of some things, and embrace others, and make my marriage better.
It’s weird that all that can come from something like admitting I like to wear women’s clothes. There’s probably a deeper lesson in there, but for today, I’m content to let it go unexplored. That’s for another day.