It’s Wednesday. I’m as far from my next opportunity to dress as I am from my last opportunity. Hum. Sad Aria is sad.
Added to that, I’m still trying to navigate things with my wife. On the night I told her I knew that she took it well intellectually, but in the moment I couldn’t get a read on her emotionally. Well, as the week has pressed on, we haven’t talked about it again. It’s kind of gone from being a skeleton in my closet to an elephant in the room.
She has not brought it up to me since I talked to her; and the one time I brought it up (the next day, blogged about here) the conversation was brief. Essentially, we’ve gone through the first part of the week almost like we’re pretending it never happened. I’ve been reluctant to try and bring it up with her again because (1) everybody keeps telling me to take it slow with her and (2) I don’t want to turn this into an “but what about ME!” thing. But I’m afraid that she’s somehow trying to ignore the whole thing, like maybe it will go away.
Then again, I’m not sure what I expected after coming out. I mean, what, was she just supposed to start chatting with me about fashions and offer to take me out shopping? I have no idea how other wives react in the days after such an admission.
As such, I’ve more or less kept everything hidden away and sectioned off. With the exception of a pair of women’s workout pants that I’ve started wearing around the house as pajama bottoms (navy blue, very subtle, I’ve seen men’s pants with similar styling), I don’t do anything girly in front of my wife. When I underdress, I get dressed and undressed in the bathroom, not the bedroom, and I’m keeping a separate hamper for my women’s clothes. When I want to fiddle with my nails, I don’t do it when she’s in the room.
I came out of the closet long enough for her to see me … and then went right back in.
It’s still a better place than it was before. I’m sure of it. At least now I’m hiding for her comfort, not out of some secret shame. And who knows? I may be overreacting. It hasn’t even been a week, and we were already in a rough patch. She may just need time to process.
Anyway, it’s Hump Day. And I’m feeling it. Blah.