The Talk: How it ended

…continued from The Talk: How it started…

Well needless to say, my heart stopped for a moment when she said we need to talk. I knew it was coming, and it made sense: this was probably the perfect moment for it. As much as I was hoping it would never happen, here we were about ready to jump in.

The floor is decidedly mine at this point, as I’ve got a lotta splainin’ to do, right? Before getting into everything, I first made sure that she knew how much I loved her, how happy I am with her, and how much I cannot wait to marry her. Further, I made sure she knew again that if the end result is that she wants me to stop, I will stop without a doubt.

With all of that said, I mentioned also that I am sincerely and deeply apologetic for hiding my crossdressing from her for so long. She asked why I hadn’t told her long ago and my response was of course that I feared losing her because of something that is construed by so many to be really, really weird. Again, at this point I had to make sure that she didn’t forget how sorry I was to have lied (right? hiding something for that long could be thought of as lying I guess…) to her for so long and that because it’s really weird (making fun of myself there a bit, too), I was too afraid of losing her years ago.

Over the next half hour or so, we continued to talk about just us, what happens to us, and what we can expect to happen to us in the future. Again, I love you, I still want to marry you, and I still want to spend the rest of my life with you… and my crossdressing shouldn’t change anything but if it does, I’ll stop immediately, no questions asked. I remember asking if she was worried that I would end up like Chandler’s father in Friends (can I get at least a chuckle?). One of her greatest concerns was that in the future, I change drastically and confuse family and children, alienating myself from the ones I love and confusing matters for all involved. Well, though we cannot predict the future, we can at least share expectations, and at this point in my life, I have no desire or plan to actually live full time en femme, nor go beyond that to any sort of surgical procedures. OK… we move onward.

At some point, we had moved outside to our balcony so we could have some cigarettes while talking. The tone was excellent the whole time; a discussion, not an interrogation (I applaud my future wife for handling this all so well… could have gone much, much worse). So anyway, we talked about how she discovered everything and put it all together. She mentioned that that night earlier in the week, she wasn’t fully asleep when I crept into the bedroom. When I was at work the next day, she went through a few of my drawers (which she actually apologized for doing!) and found some of my things, and she also found my high heels in our closet (yes, the Dexter Mayflower pumps!). At that point, we had such a good vibe going in the conversation that when she said she found my high heels, I said, “Damn, I was kind of hoping you would never see those because I think you’d be jealous that I have them and not you!” She laughed… and agreed!

We talked a bit about how I started… she was worried that I started crossdressing because of her, which is way not the case. When I explained that I’ve been crossdressing since even before high school, she felt better, but the question “why?” still remains. Though I still struggle with this sometimes myself, I mentioned that some people are born with some sort of intrinsic understanding about the opposite sex… can’t really explain where it comes from, but it’s there (I’ve read this before, but I can’t remember where). She was able to cite my ability to help her shop for clothes and our habit of people-watching (and critiquing women) as examples of where this understanding shows though. Bravo! Then of course, there’s the part about how it just feels good and comfortable… and sexy. I don’t even have to or want to wear lingerie to feel that way. I mean, most of my clothes are pants and shirts, and one long dress, but the look and feel (especially high heels) all feels, well, great. Though she doesn’t quite understand that part, she can at least nod her head.

Then, finally, “What the heck do you do when you’re dressed?” Well, not that much… I step out onto our balcony for a cigarette, cook dinner for myself, and basically just sit on the couch and watch television. It’s really very unexciting, except for the whole balcony part. That kind of ties back into the “why” part… there’s just something thrilling about someone seeing me out there (is anyone looking anyway? I don’t know… but I think so.) and thinking that I’m really a woman. It gives a rush of excitement and really does make me feel sexy. Weird, but fair enough…

Several times throughout the talk, I called crossdressing, and myself, weird and odd (it is a bit anyway… not quite a “mainstream” thing to do is all I’m really getting at) to try to keep things light and jovial if I could. We were both very relaxed the whole time, though I had a few bouts with my nerves. It’s tough to spill all of this stuff out to the woman you love and want to spend the rest of your life with, never mind the fact that it’s the first time I’ve ever talked about it with anyone that I know. So at this point, she doesn’t necessarily want to hang out around the apartment with me while I’m dressed, but at least she acknowledges and is comfortable with the fact that it’s there and that it’s something I do.

Over the course of those two hours, we both laughed, nodded, smiled, shook our heads in confusion, nodded our heads in understanding, and basically talked a very good talk. Both exhausted, we gave each other a long hug and kiss, and held each other for a few moments. I again apologized for hiding this from her but wanted to make absolutely sure that she knew how much I love her, need her, and want to be with her. She agreed completely and when I mentioned one last time that I would stop immediately if she ever wanted me to, she flatly said no. Now knowing it’s something I enjoy doing, she wouldn’t want me to resent her in the future for making me stop. Amazing…

As we do every other night of the week, we both went off to bed together, as happy and comfortable with each other as we’ve ever been only now knowing each other that much more. If this hadn’t pulled us apart, it’s only made us stronger, right?

The Talk: How it started

Last Monday I went to a baseball game alone, expectantly. It was the second to last game I had tickets for for the season and I really wanted to go. Unfortunately, my fiancee has to be in class Monday nights, and I couldn’t find anyone to come with me. So alone I go. When I got to the ballpark, I bumped into three former coworkers from a bar I used to work at, all avid baseball fans. Turns out, they had a fourth ticket that no one was using, so they gave it to me. As was often the case with this group of guys, the beers and shots keep coming, and I couldn’t refuse stopping at a bar after the game (I pretty much never see these guys anymore). An early evening and a beer or two turned into a late night, a bunch of beers, and a few rounds of shots. I was a bit drunk by the time I left to head home a bit after midnight.

The trend is that while out drinking, I get the urge to throw on heels and put on my bra and breastforms when I get home and just have a smoke on our balcony, maybe two. Well, this requires me waiting for my fiancee to fall asleep so I can sneak into the bedroom and grab my garb.

So last Monday night, I arrive home and greet my fiancee, waiting in bed but ready to go to sleep. I went into the living room to watch a bit of TV while I hoped she would fall asleep. After a while, I quietly went into the bedroom and when I opened the door and didn’t see or hear her move, I figured the coast was clear. Into the closet I went to get my heels, then back into the room to my dresser for my bra and forms. I scurried out to the living room and got changed and just hung out for a bit, had a cigarette, then changed back, quietly put my things away, and climbed into bed. Nothing to worry about, right?

The next day after she got home from work, we exchanged some emails and I just felt that her tone in them sounded off; not quite her normal self. I made a comment about it in one of our emails and she kind of brushed it off. Concerned, I stepped out from the office and gave her a call. Again, on the phone she was being very short, sounded like she was crying, and when I asked “what’s wrong,” kept responding that we will “talk about it later.”

After more baiting and telling her that she was freaking me out (which she was), I got her to open up a bit. She asked what I did last night. I responded that I went to the baseball game, bumped into the guys, and went out for a drink with them afterward. She responded back, asking what I did when we got home.

I think my heart skipped a beat when I realized what she was referring to. Admittedly, I was kind of expecting this because she sounded so not like herself, but still, it’s a bit of a shock when the realization becomes clear.

After about twenty minutes on the phone, I had gotten her to calm down by apologizing profusely for keeping this from her for so long (she said several times that she wished I had just been open about it long ago… easier said than done!). Her initial questions were more about our future together and my intentions with crossdressing. I kept reiterating that she is all I have and all I want, that I owe her an open discussion about this without any secrets and that if she ever wanted me to stop, I would without even thinking about it. All true points and I think that by continuing to say these things, she started to feel a bit better. Before we hung up so I could go back to work, we agreed that we need to talk about this soon in much greater detail so I could answer all of her questions.

Well, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday nights, she is in class until late. Usually by the time she gets home, after 11:00 PM, she’s exhausted and gets into bed as quick as possible. Through Friday night, the rest of the week went by almost as if Tuesday afternoon’s phone conversation had never even happened. I was beginning to think that the discussion was never going to happen.

Friday evening when I got home from work, we went out to our neighborhood bar, as is routine. We each had a stressful and un-fun week at work, so a few beers and shots did us both well, helping us relax and put work behind us. We got home shortly before midnight and sat on the couch, carrying on for just a few minutes longer a conversation that had begun at the bar. After a short break in conversation, she starts to say something in a different, definitely more serious tone…

“Baby, we need to talk.”

…continued with The Talk: How it ended…