The End

Alexandra and I chatted last night for the first time in a long stretch. When the prospect of each of us seeing other people first presented itself I withdrew from chatting. My brain felt it was simmering away in a pressure cooker and I had no faith that what I might feel like saying would hurt her.

Tonight’s chat was passionate, agonizing, convoluted, empathetic and even sane.

Nonmongamy wasn’t even the central issue. That and some possible D/s incompatibilities had their place. So did much else.

Only being able to see each other for three months between gaps of a few to several months has been a strain for both of us. For most of the past three years we’ve coped with that pretty well.

Because she is a mtf transsexual and American immigration and citizenship issues are so primitive there have been serious problems relating to health care, income and potential education and self-help opportunities that that can’t be bridged. Tenderness is no match for geopolitics and economic necessity.

Both of us knew these things and did our best to act as if they weren’t true. Realities are cold and indifferent.

Together we discussed all this and jointly shared that parting would be best for each of us. Neither of us wants this. Both of us are probably still hoping to find the incantation to make it untrue.

And agreed that our friendship and affection won’t be lost because of our inability to establish a perfect life together. No breakup has cost me more in my heart.

Unlike those of long ago I may have lost my lover but I get to keep my friend.