By Popular Demand

Unintended consequences. You know what I mean. History is full of examples. Prohibition was supposed to bring a new era of paradise to the US. It gave us rampant organized crime and a blueprint for the current lobbyist system (Wayne Wheeler would be proud of K Street!) Anakin just wanted to save Padme and became Darth Vadar (and a son who’s too short to be a stormtrooper!)

You get the idea.

Anyway, last month I told my wife about being transgendered. You can read about that here. (and here.) So far so good. I’m still married and I have a roof over my head. I haven’t been locked out in the Cold Rain and Snow.

Within a couple hours of my revealing that I’d done this, I started getting emails asking for help. Help with writing? Spelling and grammar? Witty cultural references? Blue Meanies? Nope.

Help with lying.

Seems I’m now considered an authority. After all, my wife never found out, right? I successfully evaded discovery for nearly four years. I must be an absolute expert at falsehoods. A Deceiver of the Highest magnitude whose butt is burnt crispy from my pants being on fire. I’m so good at bald face lying I almost qualify to be a Republican politician!

I’ve received more of these emails than I can count on all my fingers and toes (the limit of my math ability.)
So, as an exclusive to TGForum, I will give you my answers to this thorny issue. Sophie Lynne’s Super Secrets to Prevarication — normally a $200 value but free when you buy the set of Ginsu knives! (But wait there’s more!)

Caveat: there’s a reason I told my wife. Lying is bad for your mental health and the health of the relationship you are presumably trying to salvage. The shame of the lies and the guilt of them were crushing. So if you’re going to lie, be aware — there are always Always ALWAYS consequences. And don’t blame me if you fail. You may not be as good at it as the Queen of Equivocation.

Okay. So how did I do this? I applied the rules of fiction writing. After all, I was writing an elaborate fiction.
First rule of good fiction writing is that everything should be Plausible. Nothing out of the realm of possibility. My example: Ever since she’s known me, my wife has known I play Dungeons & Dragons. (I used to work for the company that created it.) I used to play once a week, but hadn’t since 2003. So — I need an excuse for one night a month. Okay — I’m playing D&D. As we only play once a month, we play all day and night. Very possible. Very plausible.

Sometimes I’d go out a second time in a month. Where was I? “Out with the guys.” Absolutely true, from a certain point of view. I just never said what they or I were wearing.

Conferences were covered by “work.” I was going to conferences by a Trade Organization or sponsored by my one employer. And when I went, I told her exactly what I did any given day, but filtered so that all TG elements were out. So a Saturday night gala became a formal dinner (and I’d bring my suit.) As we have separate bank accounts, she didn’t know where I was spending the money. (The separate bank account thing was at her insistence, btw. Just convenient.)

With me so far?

Okay, most of clothes and things came through the mail. As I work two jobs, intercepting the mail was nigh impossible. A Post Office box was needed and obtained. They are inexpensive. Mine is a couple towns over where I don’t know anyone.

Storage of things. I did this in the basement for a while, but a storage unit makes more sense. I have one now — climate controlled. Again, a couple towns away. I don’t make much money, yet I can still afford these things. Beats alimony.
Now, here’s the biggest part — the part where most people will blow it. Ready? Pencils poised?

Whatever your lie is — REMEMBER IT.

Never forget that line of falsehood. I was ALWAYS at those games. They took place at THIS place at THIS time. Add details if you wish, but remember them! If your spouse is suspicious, she will be looking for inconsistencies. Think of it as a spy and her cover. If her cover is blown, she and probably others, are dead.

That’s the basics folks. Now the hard part: looking into the eyes of the people you care about the most, people to whom you have committed your life, whom you hold above all others . . .

And lying to them.

I couldn’t live with that after a while. I risked it all to tell her, and was DAMN lucky. In D&D slang, I rolled a 20. In poker talk, I pulled a straight flush on the river. To my friends in the Resistance, the broom leans against the green door.
You may not be that lucky. I hope and pray you are, though.

Here endeth the lesson.

And may God have mercy on all of us for bearing false witness to those we love — even if it is to protect our souls.

Tags: featured, partners, spouses

Category: Transgender Body & Soul