She asked if I was stilled training in jujitsu. I explained how I earned my black belt in Brazilian jujitsu and was currently working on my belt in Mu...ay Thai. I told her that my training partner snapped my ulna like a toothpick while grappling and realized that I needed skills to defend myself on my feet. She asked me if I had tattoos like many of the other martial artists. I unfastened a few buttons on my shirt, revealing a wicked looking dragon inked onto my sculptured chest. Her eyes widened. I attended through my work, a shrink of sorts under the guise of angermanagement - I am always unhappy and grumpy / unreasonable, and quicklyopened up to her (the psychiatrist) about being transgendered. Sheencouraged me to seek out support groups which I did, as well as openingup to my wife, who to her credit, did and has not disowned me!I attended the monthly support group for a while before circumstanceforced me to stop. ( I really regret not continuing with these groups - itwas ultimately. There were all kinds of organized festivities, and programs, and speeches, all designed to get the alumni to donate money, of course. I was exempt from that, to a degree, even though I could afford to contribute. I've done pretty well for myself. I got married to another professor, and then divorced, before we had any kids, so there was no alimony. She was making more than I did anyway, and left for an even higher paying position in another state. It was an amiable split, for the most. “I need to find another donor,” I said.“You could just admit I was right,” she replied, “pay half yourself and accept that you lost the bet.”“Never,” I growled.We shelved that and decided to go and get some lunch. There was a restaurant at the end of Dachaustrasse called Bufet, and we went in there. Their schnitzels were marvellous, but the chips left a lot to be desired. The scratty MacFries type rather than proper deep-fried potato sticks. But the great thing was we were allowed a beer with.