(In which Holli brings "desperate" to a whole new level...)
With the decisive withdrawal of my two closest girl friends - Erica, my actual girlfriend, and Penny - and refusal to entertain the slightest positive thought regarding my cross-dressing, I seemingly at random picked a girl I knew to be my new confidant - name immaterial, for she was brilliant at listening, but contributed absolutely no thoughts to the process. I began to lean on her for support, as it were, but she expressed no interest in being my enabler. After almost an entire summer of being sidestepped, I went to her home and tried on some of her outfits without permission, out of some paltry form of revenge. Her nigh-indifferent reaction to this made me realize I'd placed too much expectation on her shoulders. We remained friends, but never so much as conversed as before.
I find it somewhat funny that at college I'd gone from total closet-case to practically unloading my needs on other people and expecting results. Either my naivete was on a crash course with reality, or I believed altruistically in the dependability of human nature. Maybe both. Poor girl. Poor me.
And then I met Angel. Wise, warm, funny, and such a good friend I couldn't even know. I confided in her. Then something happened - she gave back. A little too much, actually... rather, I didn't have the decency to stop asking. She shopped with me, helped me dress, did my nails (and I did hers), and every now and then my makeup. She covered for me when I couldn't account for myself to others. Angel even confided some of the bitter truths peering out from her own closet, feeling it was good for our bond if she added a little of herself to it too. She devoted herself to understanding me and getting to know me better, unfortunately to the point where she developed a moderate crush on me. This nonreciprocal love drove us apart for a short while. Eventually she forgave me for being myopic and advantageous, and I toned down my desperation when we got together.
As it happened, eventually we both got married. While I was willing to make time for our relationship as girlfriends, Angel knew that it would never work. (Ever try explaining to one's newlywed husband about spending time with someone else's husband without tipping him off that the other husband is a cross-dresser? Me neither, but I bet it's hard.) We agreed that ours would have to remain a correspondent relationship. Sadly, that has also fallen by the wayside and children have come into her life and there's just no way for her to counsel me any further.
Which brings us to NOW.
Despite that Erica knows what kind of a person I am and what I'm inclined to do when the girlie itch needs scratching, we have more secrets between us now than ever. I accept half the blame for this. I simply do not tell her things I don't think she enjoys hearing. This blog, for instance. My chat room activities. My board posts. Purchases. Private wardrobe indulgences. In fact, as far as far as she knows I'm just sitting on a great big mountain of repression and doing just fine. So in reality I'm exacerbating the problem, based on my worried reluctance to set the hurtful truth free. There have been so many unexpected "walk-ins" in our relationship, I sense how tired she is of them. I just feel like I'm granting her fondest wish. Some people do prefer ignorance.
Erica values secrecy. She isn't just interested in keeping my closet door closed and barred, but she'd just as well forget her own alleged shortcomings. Unfortunately, she married a person who's totally into disclosure. If I had a complaint (haha... "if"... ) it would be that she doesn't know how to open up and explore, discuss, analyze, understand the things either of us say and do. Of anybody I know - and tell me if I'm wrong, please - she ought to be the most interested in knowing everything she can about this irrepressible facet of my being. Ought to be. But isn't. Much like I have to put up with her temper, but at least take time to understand why she's so angry and say how I feel about it.
I swear... Does anyone else get the impression that I'm the woman in this relationship?
I can tell the world my secrets. Sure. But the list of who I really give a damn about them knowing is pretty short, with her at the top.
That's all for now. Erica's out and about for another half hour, and I've been girling it up all by my lonesome, spilling the beans to anyone who'll listen. I think I'll go do the dishes. And I don't care who knows it. =P