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The Way I Was

Over the last 34 years, I've dealt with the fact that I am unable to keep my bed dry at night. I've tried sleep alarms, medication, kegel exercises, limiting my drinking before bed and even hypnosis. I got myself in the best physical condition of my life in college and it still didn't make a difference. I've been to urologists, psychologists and psychiatrists. Aside from the inevitable depression in my teens as a result of what I learned was nocturnal enuresis, I was declared healthy by everyone I saw. Inevitably, the fact that I was wearing diapers to bed became an integral part of my coming of age and budding sexuality. The first time I awoke with a wet and sticky diaper I was perplexed and aroused. I didn't know what arousal was but I knew whatever I was feeling, felt good.

When I discovered the ABDL world on the internet I was initially disgusted and confused. The ageplay and regression didn't appeal to me at all because I had spent my life trying to prove to myself that I was still a grown up even if I couldn't keep the bed dry. However, over the years I started to see the value of interacting with the community because at the very least, there are a number of really understanding people out there and maybe someday I would work up the courage to actually contact one of them. The idea scared me for years until one day I met someone in a chat room that lived in my area. She was really understanding and actually had some funny perspectives on sexuality and what makes people tick. She, like a number of people in the community, couldn't really pin point why she enjoyed regressing and wearing a diaper, but she wasn't embarassed by it because the way she saw it, it was a part of who she was. Her attitude: I will not apologize for who I am.

I will not apologize for who I am. This phrase became my mantra. She and I began emailing on a nearly daily basis. Everyday that I woke up to one of her emails I left the house feeling like I could do anything. Somehow, my life started to make more sense. My attitude at work improved and I even started dating which I had, up until meeting her, avoided for the most part. The occassional tryst in college always ended in my leaving before going to sleep and under no circumstances did I ever bring anyone back to my dorm room or apartment. About two years ago I happened to see the film "You've Got Mail." It's a sappy little tail of two people that email each other anonymously and fall in love with a couple of funny little twists about their lives intertwining prior to their actual meeting. It got me thinking about the possibility of actually meeting this mystery woman.

After another year of emails, with two significant lapses in communication, I went so far as to suggest that we meet. We had built a trust over quite a long time and I figured that at the very least, a cup of coffee and a personal thank you was appropriate. To my surprise, she agreed. In fact, she in turn was surprised that I would actually suggest it. We traded text messages and saw each other's last name for the first time. This was a big step for me, and later I learned for her as well. I can tell you that I nearly threw up when I hit send but managed to keep myself together. The time, date and place were set and the next three days were so nerve wracking I can't even begin to describe it. Half the time I was telling myself that there was no possible way I could go through with it and the other half of me was convinced that it was going to be a storybook ending- a Hanks/Ryan blissful moment. The long and short of it is that it ended up being somewhere in between.

There wasn't a book with a rose on a table but we both showed up and both blushed so much the whole time that it was exhausting. There wasn't an insane sexual connection but rather a big sister/little brother feeling about the whole thing. She was only a year older but she had so much more experience with people and travel and life and I felt a weird kinship with her. Another factor that contributed to the dynamic was that she came straight from her office and was dressed in a pant suit whereas I had left my landscaping job, gone home to clean up and had a much more casual look. It was subtle, but that was one of a few details that seemed to accentuate the differences in our personalities. After our coffee she suggested that we take a walk and actually took my hand in hers on the way out the door. This was the first time in a long, long time that I felt reassured and almost secure. She somehow put my anxiety to rest and made me feel comfortable. She was the only person outside of my family to ever know my deepest, darkest secret and it didn't matter to her at all. The really interesting part for me was that I felt like I regressed in her presence. After all of the emails and the reassurance that she had given me by boosting my confidence in myself and what I did, I suddenly regressed to being really shy again.

We saw each other on and off for about 6 months before I saw the little girl persona that she had told me about. We had planned a day at the inner harbor and she showed up in a skirt with her hair pulled back in a ponytail that poked through her baseball cap. Sneakers replaced her usual heels, an oversized sweatshirt replaced her suite and a hello kitty backpack completed her look. She greeted me with a huge hug and a deviant look that indicated something was amiss. When I asked her what the story was she handed me her pack and "nuffin, Q howld my bag pwease?" I laughed. She frowned. She broke character only for a moment to say, "just because your pants are dry doesn't mean you still aren't younger than me, but today you're older." Then she smiled and skipped off down the sidewalk.

I chased her down and said "excuse me young lady, but am I to understand that your pants aren't dry?"

"I'm not wearing pants silly-head," as she grasped her crotch,"but I think I had an accident on the walk over."

I paused for a second after hearing that and then looked down at the bag in my hand, then up at her. She flashed a big grin and I unzipped her pack and looked inside. It shouldn't have shocked me but I'll admit it, I started blushing when I saw the diapers, wipes and powder. I zipped the bag and asked her if she needed a change.

"No, and not from you anyway," she replied.

We spent the rest of the day wandering around the waterside, stopping for a snack every so often so that she could go into the restroom and get herself cleaned up. It was a fantastic day that I'll never forget. She would go in and out of her alter ego so our conversations ranged from ladybugs and lollipops to career goals and sexual encounters. She would generally dominate the later topic since her life had been a great deal more active than mine. Those conversations would inevitabley wind their way to her saying, "you know, if you would make less of a deal about wearing diapers to bed and more of a deal about how you felt about the woman you would have allot more fun."

I would nod, look at the ground and change the subject. She would sigh, make a joke, and return to her littlegirl land. A few times she bent over far enough that I could see her diaper and I worried that others might. When I said as much to her she laughed and shrugged it off. She wasn't flaunting it but deep down I think that was part of the thrill for her. The idea that someone might catch her in the act of her age play. She described the feelings she got when someone noticed and said that got her so wet she could almost orgasm from it. She told me that she once went on a ferris wheel and let her skirt fly up "accidentally." No one noticed it but when she went home that night she pretended that they did and that she was really embarrassed by it. These were the thoughts she used to get herself off. These were the thoughts I had that made me want to cry.

She was really understanding about how I've had to come to terms with my situation and how different it is for her that she gets so turned on by intentionally wetting herself. It took a bit of prying but we finally talked about how when I was a freshman in high school, I went on vacation with the whole family. This was the most vivid memory I had about being utterly humiliated and wanting to cry. It was week with my parents and I and a slew of uncles, aunts and cousins. The total headcount was around thirty people. The majority of them probably knew about what my mother casually referred to as my nightly problem because of how the ladies of the family gossiped but I rarely saw any of them so I had hoped it wasn't on the front of their mind.

It was a week in Maine, which is a long drive up from Maryland in case you haven't had the chance to take the trip. We left on Friday evening after my parents got home from work and arrived early Saturday morning. It would be a night's sleep in the car for me so I got ready for bed before leaving. My mother didn't even have to ask, she just looked at my with a raised eyebrow as I walked toward the car and I returned a slight nod, indicating that I was indeed ready for bed. She smiled and that was that. It was a pretty nice ride once we got past NYC and by ten o'clock the sun was setting and I dozed off. I awoke when the car stopped at the end of the off ramp in Maine. The sun was coming up and my mother was now driving the car with my father asleep in the passenger's seat. He stirred as the car rumbled onto the gravel drive that went in toward the lake.

My aunt and uncle on my mother's side were sitting on the porch to the cabin having their coffee when we pulled in. The second I saw them I realized that I should have changed, I just didn't think anyone would be up at that hour. I looked down and started to panic. My mother gave me a sympathetic tilt of the head in the rear view mirror. She obviously realized what I was going through. My father made a crack about my aunt looking like she crawled out of a bottle this morning, a comment that flew over my head and was later clarified by my mother. My parents hopped out of the car and exchanged hugs with my aunt and uncle and I slowly opened the door and moved toward the trunk to retrieve my suitcase. I remember wishing I had worn windpants instead of sweatpants because of the sound, and because my bottomwouldn't look as droopy. I fumbled around in the trunk for a minute until hearing my name called and then a beckoning to come for a hug. I took a deep breath and came around the car. My uncle flashed me a big smile and extended his hand while my aunt's eyes went straight to my waist.

The hug I received was enough. The pat on the butt and my aunt talking over me to my mother saying, "still has the nighttime problem huh?" really mad me mad. Then, as only mother's can do, they started having a conversation about me as though I wasn't there. My father and uncle had no interest in the conversation and went to unpacking the car.

"Come on boy, give us a hand," my uncle said. He was a pretty good guy and knew my situation wasn't easy. I unpacked the car with them and was treated to tid bits of my mother's conversation like "well, at least you're not having to change him anymore," and "at least he's dry during the day," as I walked by each time. The ladies went inside as we finished unpacking and I could hear my cousins starting to stir so I grabbed the last bag and hurried into the cabin and back to the bathroom as quickly as possible. The last thing I wanted was for any of them to see me for the first time in years and be in a wet diaper. Well, no such luck.

My older cousin came out of her room and said "Hey! Look who's here!" She made an entire 3 seconds before looking to my drooping pants. Not to disappoint, she was her mother's daughter afterall, she says,"uh oh, somebody needs a new diaper." That was the clincher, the other 2 cousins and one of their friends all of a sudden came out of the woodwork and I stood in an already wet diaper, in the middle of the room, surrounded by stares, tears running down my cheeks and wet myself.

I was distraught.

"I went into my room and didn't come out for the entire day," I said to lovely woman who stood before me in her own wet diaper.

"That's a heck of a way to start a vacation," she said with a laugh that completely disarmed me.

"Yeah, about as good as it gets," I said.

"So was the rest of the week that bad?"

"Not that I remember. I just remember my aunt being a pain with her snide remarks. I do remember she got an earful from my mother when she checked to see if I was wet one night. The adults were all having drinks and my aunt was a sloppy drunk. That's when I found out what my father meant by saying she crawled out of a bottle."

"She checked to see if you were wet?!? You were fourteen years old!"

"Who are you telling? She pulled me over to her side, yanked down my pajamas and put her finger in my pants!"

"You mean diaper."

"Whatever. After that night I don't think my mother spoke to her again. So anyway, what-"

"You want to know what's really crazy?" she said, cutting me off.

"Just thinking about my being in that situation gets me wet."

"Seems to me you're wet more often than not," I joked.

"Yeah, it's a great way to live."

At the end of the day, I walked her home. We stood at her front door and had the awkward silence that would normally precede a first kiss until she said, "you're a really sweet guy, and I like you allot, but..."

"That's alright, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable or anything," I interrupted.

"I know you and I are at two different stages in our lives."

"It's not that and you know it. You were just thinking about kissing me goodnight, and I was thinking the same thing. The "but" wasn't about stages. I don't even know what that means "stages." The but was about you being able to handle a relationship. I mean a real relationship. I don't want to be your mommy and I can see that your insecurities could lead to that sort of interaction. You're a great friend and I like that I make you feel better about yourself. You make me feel wonderful with all your attentiveness and your sense of humor. I love that we've met."

"But you don't love me."

"Oh come on now, you don't love me, you love the idea of me. But you're imagining me as a different person than I am and you know that's true too."

She gave me a hug and kiss on the cheek. It felt more like a pat on the head than anything else. At least she didn't pat me on the bottom. To this day we're still friends, though she rarely shows me her other side anymore. Instead, our relationship has evolved into what almost feels like patient/doctor which she tells me can be fun too. When she got engaged last week she left a message on my phone that almost felt like a goodbye. So now, as I sit here this morning in my wet diaper, I write out this story to close a chapter and start anew, different from the way I was.

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