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I accidentally told my wife I wish I had a psychiatrist.

"Why."
"So I could tell her I wish I were a lesbian."

Which is mostly true. Sometimes I wish I were an architect. I guess that could technically still make me a lesbian.

"So you want to wear women's clothes."
"No, I do that already."

My wife couldn't tell I was joking. She started making that weird breathing sound she makes before she cries.

"I'm just kidding."
"Then you don't want to be a lesbian."
"Oh no, I do. I wasn't joking about that. Just about wearing women's clothes."

I thought it would have been a really good moment for her to slap me across the face, like they do in movies. She just sat on the bed hyperventilating. I touched her shoulder and scrunched up my eyes. I hoped she could tell this was my empathy face. In my mind over and over I thought really hard: SLAP ME IN MY FACE PLEASE SLAP ME IN MY FACE. I know she heard me. At our wedding the priest said we were one flesh.



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