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…