One evening not too long ago, I received a disturbing call from my girlfriend of more than a year. She sounded upset, and said that she wanted to come right over and discuss something in person. I consented, and as you might expect, and all kinds of scenarios ran through my head as I waited the half hour or so that it took for her to arrive. During that time, I pondered various possibilities as any fellow in that sort of situation might, wondering what could have happened to cause her such concern. Most of the likely suspects could be ruled out: I've never cheated on her (or any other girlfriend, for that matter), so there was no infidelity for her to discover; I don't use drugs or alcohol, thus I wasn't guilty of some horrific binge; and due to our chosen means of birth control, it wasn't possible that I'd gotten her pregnant. The few remaining possibilities that came to mind centered around her: perhaps she was about to give me the boot, or had made some other sort of unilateral decision. Since her car was just pulling into my driveway, I'd know soon enough.

I met her at the door. Though she's blessedly one of those women who couldn't look unappealing even if she tried, her emotional condition was clear in her appearance and expression: she was visibly distraught. We sat down on the sofa and she pulled some papers from her purse, telling me that something had come up and that she needed to discuss it with me in person. Her voice quavered, further emphasizing her distress. By this point, I'd exhausted all probable crises, and was simply waiting for the other shoe to drop. And drop it did when next she spoke: "Are you Palomine?" she asked.

This was one scenario that I hadn't expected, as I'd (mistakenly) assumed that the chances of Toni discovering my online alter-ego to be extremely remote, at best. But perhaps the Internet isn't quite as large a place as I'd thought, and discover it she had... the papers in her hand were printouts of articles I'd written for this very publication, BEhavior. My mind reeled at the news as I attempted to recall everything that I'd ever written for BEhavior or posted in the Breast Expansion Archive's Forums. At the time, I'd posted more than 1,000 messages in the Forums as a participant and moderator, in addition to the various sightings reports, cultural observations and other items I'd written for BEhavior. Suffice it to say that in the few seconds following her question, although I was sure I'd mentioned having a girlfriend in some of my writings, I was unable to recall each and every instance in which I might have written something that she could possibly find offensive. Thus, it seemed to be best to simply answer truthfully and deal with the consequences, whatever they might be.

"Yes," I replied in what I hoped was a calm and rational tone, "I'm Palomine." You can imagine my feelings when this admission resulted in tears and a torrent of questions from her. Apparently she'd read my very first article for BEhavior, a sighting report at which she herself had been present. In addition, she'd toured the BEA User Gallery, and to say that the images there had confused and upset her would be an understatement. She wanted to know what I could possibly see in her, if the images of (mostly) surgically and/or digitally enhanced women in the gallery were of such interest to me. What followed was a long and sometimes uncomfortable conversation about fantasy, pornography, images featuring exaggerated sexual characteristics, the inevitable comparisons she was making between herself and these images, our own emotional and physical relationship, and other such weighty topics. I made every effort to listen to and answer each of her questions as clearly as I could, and to do so in a compassionate and non-confrontational manner. It seemed to me that the future course of our relationship might very well depend on this one emotionally charged conversation.

The better part of an hour later, our conversation had run its course and we were still on speaking terms. I'd done the best that I could to reassure her about my feelings towards her, and because she'd asked, I'd also explained my long-time interest in various kinds of imagery, including those sorts to be found at the BEA. This was information that I'd never before shared with a girlfriend, having decided that for a variety of reasons it would probably be best to keep matters relating to the private aspects of my sexuality separate and distinct from those involving real-life relationships. This policy had always stood me in good stead, but once Toni chanced upon my Palomine persona at BEhavior, it was no longer a viable option.

I'm fortunate that my physical and emotional relationship with Toni is among the most fulfilling that I've ever enjoyed. I'm also quite lucky that Toni is a alarmingly attractive woman with ample charms and a voracious sexual appetite, in terms of both frequency and variety. At times, her rampant enthusiasm and considerable skills have driven me to levels of sexual performance and satisfaction that I honestly no longer thought possible... at least not since my teenage years. In addition to our eminent physical compatibility, our emotional relationship is among the most open and honest that I've ever had: due partly to mutual choice and in (this) part to circumstance, we know each other in a profoundly intimate fashion. I fully expect both aspects of our relationship to continue to evolve over time.

Despite my good fortune with Toni, I still like to look at pictures of naked women. I've enjoyed doing so since I was eight or nine years old and first stumbled across my dad's collection of Playboy and Penthouse magazines. I have every reason to expect that I will continue to enjoy such pictures for the rest of my life, as the high level of interest that I have in women and their bodies seems to be an integral component of my makeup. So, whether that interest is expressed in the context of an intimate relationship with a woman, or in terms of a growing archive of images on my computer's hard drive, or --as is more often the case-- in terms of both activities... it is all me. Or to paraphrase a certain fictional sailor far more eloquent than I: "I am what I am."

Postscript: in the weeks that have passed since Toni and I had that particular conversation, our relationship has indeed continued to evolve. Toni has recently admitted to me that lately she's been doing a bit of web surfing of her own and has even begun to collect some images from the 'net that she enjoys looking at. On hearing this, I fully expected to learn about a folder chock full of male models of Herculean proportions. So you can imagine my surprise and delight when she shyly revealed that the images in question were of women... particularly ladies of the type to be found in the pages of Score. Though Toni's a devoted heterosexual (in fact, her almost insatiable appetite for my cock is often a truly wondrous thing to behold), she's apparently secure enough in herself and her own sexuality that she can comfortably derive pleasure from images of some of the very same women that I do. Like myself, her preferences seem to run more towards voluptuous, naturally endowed women, so as you might expect, Chloe Vevrier and Linsey Dawn McKenzie are two of her favorites. Yet another thing that Toni and I have in common. A few days ago, she asked me for a favor: would I make her a CD containing images of some of her favorite models from my collection? Of course, I'm only too happy to do this for her, despite some residual ambivalence about comparisons. As I select and gather JPEGs and MPEGs to burn a disk, I cannot help but wonder what other surprises our evolving relationship may hold in store.