Tyler/Valerie: Coffee with Anna

Ever since this thing happened with Josh, my life has been a fight.


Fighting with Josh to disconnect Valerie's life from his.


Fighting with Valerie over what to do next... and who's actually to blame.


Fighting with myself over... well, everything.


Meg has said I have a guilt complex... I can somehow blame myself for everything but be very touchy when others do the same. Which probably explains how I can beat myself up over what happened but get very defensive when Val puts the blame on me for not being, well, her.


When I finally did sit down face to face with her, she looked exhausted. I think Anna's life is putting her through the wringer in addition to the emotional distress from the wedding fallout. Or maybe I'm just sexist and still think that anytime a woman doesn't put on full makeup she looks ill.


She met me at the coffee shop after work but we decided to go to a neutral location so that my co-workers wouldn't interrupt us.


Even though we had planned to have this big conversation, which I was sweating over all afternoon, neither of us really seemed to want to talk and we spent a lot of time making failed small talk about the weather and work.


Eventually I said, "I've been telling people what happened... everyone's very sympathetic."


"What have you been saying?" she got a worried look on her face.


"The truth," I shrugged, "He cheated, went back to his ex and fathered a lovechild."


She looked away. "I hope people aren't going to be too hard on him."


I sputtered, "What! Val, he's a monster! What he did--"


"I just don't know if he deserves to be shunned! He's such a good person..."


"How can you think like that?"


"Well--" she choked a little, "I still love him, Tyler. Part of me would even forgive him if I could talk to him directly."


I didn't comment on that.


"I keep wanting to tell you to go to him and say some things on my behalf, but I can't put you in that position, to say things you don't actually feel."


"That's a conversation you'd need to be there for," I said. "Maybe when you get back..."


She shook her head, "I should move on, really. I said part of me wants to forgive him, but the other part... I'm too devastated."


"That's understandable."


"I want to believe you did all you could," she sighed, "I don't want to go on blaming you, but the alternative is that it still would have happened if I were there, and that's hard to swallow."


"Uh huh." I hoped we weren't going to fight about it again.


"I just can't help it. I think he knew. I think he knew it wasn't me but he couldn't process it so it made him run. I don't care how much you look like me, you're not my essence. You're not even really a woman."


I don't know why, but that bugged me.


I have my own theories as to why it happened, which basically boils down to the relationship being broken on a fundamental level... maybe he was always iffy on her and from what I can tell - I'd never say this to her face but maybe I can get away with writing it here - she took him for granted. The way he behaved around me, he was used to the doormat treatment. It's not hard to see why a guy like that might stray.


I asked if she wanted to discuss our plans for returning to the Inn, and she said things were fine. "I don't want to think about how the life I'm going back to isn't the life I want."


"Fair, I guess."


"I heard you're living with Ryan Moreno now," she said with some consternation in her voice, "Be careful with that one, he's always had a crush on me."


I raised an eyebrow. "He seems fine. He's with someone."


She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, for now..."


I shrugged. "It's going okay. Gotta live somewhere."


"I would have moved back home... if it happened to me. I'd want to be with my mom."


I winced. "She's very sweet, but a bit overbearing I think. Very protective when I told her what happened."


That made her smile, weakly. "She would be."


There was a lull, and she said, "I'm dating someone."


I nearly spat my coffee. "What??"


"It's just casual. It won't interfere with the Inn. But even before the break-up with Josh I was lonely. You could say I'm on the rebound."


In my head I thought, it'd better not interfere. Out loud I said, "Do what you gotta do."


"Do you think you'd like sex, as a woman?"


"I've had it," I answered back, "I liked it, but I'm not missing it."


She snickered, "Liar." She sipped, "You find men attractive?"


"It's... complicated."


She smiled in acknowledgment. "If I told you you could have some, would you?"


I bristled at having to get permission for it. I'd like to think that, after Josh, if I wanted it I would have pursued.


I shrugged. "Someone's bound to get hurt. Maybe me, maybe someone else." I nodded in her direction.


She sipped the last of her coffee and said my words back to me, "Do what you've got to do. We'll talk again soon."


I watched her go, taking her long, lean, willowy frame out into the cold night air. She left me with a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach...


Tyler/Val

Tyler/Valerie: Bombshell

Where to begin...


Well, I guess I can thank "Brigette" for giving you all her perspective on the wedding, since I ended up not being able to write about it until now. I guess it's time to explain some of what she was observing but not fully understanding.


As we got closer and closer to the wedding I became stronger in my conviction that Josh wasn't being completely truthful. As someone who is prone to keeping secrets and telling lies and half-truths - sometimes even when I don't have to, I'm sad to say - I recognized too many signs to let it go. Even when I pressed him directly ,and he denied it, I kept strategizing how I would find him out. He may have had Valerie's trust but he hadn't earned mine. Not with that mystery cell phone and those phony flowers.


So on the day of the wedding, my stomach was in knots. my every instinct was yelling at me not to go through with this farce of a ceremony, but I wasn't very well going to stomp off in dramatic fashion on a hunch. There was too much at stake and I was still considering Val's feelings.


Luckily, Josh finally - at the very last minute - did the right thing.


That would be the moment he came to see me in the Bridal Suite and we had our private talk. Now enough time had passed that I don't feel wrong telling you what was said.


He came in with this shoulders-slumped hang dog expression, looking very apologetic and guilt-ridden. I tried not to buy into it, sure it was an act. But even if I was not in a place to trust this guy, we still had some kind of connection based on my time as Valerie, and part of me desperately wanted to believe that he was genuine.


After hemming and hawing for a minute, he started by saying he wanted to apologize in advance... for lying, keeping secrets, all that stuff. That he knew he had done something wrong but that he wa still the same man (Val) had fallen in love with and that if I could forgive him we could probably move forward and adapt, but... but maybe that wasn't possible. and it would be a change.


I told him to cut the rambling already and get to the point.


"I can't marry you, Valerie." he sighed.


I stared coldly at him. "Why not?"


He couldn't even look at me when he said it: "Because I'm already married."


The way he said this indicated that it was not something Val would have known (and honestly the way she'd been acting there was no way she even suspected.) I tried to keep cool outside but there was a fire building inside of me. I hissed: "What."


"It was a mistake, before you and I got together... we rushed in and it fell apart immediately. I always meant to finalize the papers, but... a few months ago, something happened."


Fire building. "What."


"We got to talking, and talk turned into... something else... and, well, it was a mistake."


I said nothing. I knew there had to be more, and there was.


"A little while later, I found out... there were consequences."


I grunted. "Go on."


"She's five months pregnant, Val. She says if I leave her, she'll take everything I have."


I don't know exactly how to describe the sound I made in response to this... a grunt of shock, disappointment, hurt, exasperation, and oddly, satisfaction at being proved right... whatever it was, it definitely wasn't ladylike.


It was hard to process - to filter through any Val perspective I may have had. All I could say was, "God, you fucked up. You fucked up so badly."


To me, it would have been one thing if he had just cheated. Maybe Val could forgive that. It's another to have been married (and facing a likely costly divorce, if he even really wanted to split up from her.) all this time he was engaged, basically defrauding Val about his finances. And then to bring a child into it - all while basically hounding me about knocking me up in the near future! I couldn't overlook it and I was damn sure Valerie would be hurt beyond belief.


I felt like an idiot, sitting there in my whole wedding getup, looking like some teenage girl's idea of a royal wedding, my face painted up and my hair done with hours of care. I felt shattered, almost as bad as finding out I wasn't ever going to be Tyler Blake again. I didn't think it would sting as badly, as personally, as it did, but in the past few months I have been very invested in Valerie's life, her problems, and this was a big problem.


I wanted to get bigger and angrier than I think I am capable of getting in this tiny "cute" body, and that frustrated me even further.


He went to do another round of apologies and begging forgiveness and I cut him off.


I should have called off the wedding. I should have been honest with everybody and told them to go home, but there was so much time and money in this, and I didn't want Val to hear it that way. I didn't want the embarrassment of being publicly humiliated like that, to have to field those questions.


Whether it was the right call or the wrong one, I said... let's go through with the wedding, and deal with all this later.


The license wouldn't be real - polygamy is illegal in New York State, so it would be annulled without delay, I reckoned. The whole thing would effectively be a lie but my whole life is a lie at this point so what's one more. I'm used to it.


Now, as much time as I've spent these past few years as other people, I'm probably not that great an actor so I think probably everyone could tell there was something wrong as I was walking down the aisle. What should have been a beautiful, sacred moment between two people who love each other was instead all just a show (which again, it would have been anyway, only now the whole meaning was changed.) There I was, silently fuming, my voice trembling as I struggled to say "I promise to love, honor and respect you" to a man I hoped I would never have to see again very soon. All I could do was mentally write out how I was even going to explain all this to Val. I felt sick.


After the I Do's, we were alone in the Limo. I could hardly look at him. He tried to start our conversation back up and I cut him off, basically dropping my character.


"You know something, man? I knew there was something wrong with you. You were so fucking lovey-dovey and attentive and all that, that should have been the tip-off. But I wanted to believe and I wanted to trust you. I don't believe you ever wanted to leave her. I think you wanted us both and you only confessed now because you realized you were cornered. Either that or you were too 'nice,' I mean too much of a coward, to come clean and say you didn't want to marry V--me. I fuckin' hate you right now."


Once the words were out of my mouth I realized that they probably hit a lot harder from Val's mouth than from Tyler Blake's, but I didn't care. He deserved to be hurt badly. Some people just do. Some people deserve hell and for once it's not me.
His defense was "I still love you and I still want to be with you, not her."
I sneered. "I don't believe that for a second, and even if you do, you can't. You blew it."


We put our fake smiles back on as best we could for the reception but after unloading like that obviously neither of us were really feeling like having our "first dance" or feeding cake to each other. We just kind of relied on the natural hustle and bustle of a wedding to keep us busy, while I made it clear to Anna that I needed to speak with her in private before the end of the night, but only after as much of the festivities as we could get through. I was relying on her to guide me through all the thanks and congratulations.


When all that was satisfied, I took her outside and did my best to break the news to her as gently as it would come, but how you tell somebody their would-be husband is a babydaddy without causing a scene, I don't know. Valerie started hyperventilating and stormed out, never to return. When I texted her, she said she needed to process all of this.


Keep in mind, she didn't want me sleeping with him in her body, so the idea that he would be pursuing an affair - even a non-physical one - was probably not going to be something she could take well, not that I blame her.


And that was the night. The night that was supposed to be so magical and perfect turned out to be exceptionally shitty. I told Josh that I needed him to go on the Honeymoon alone, and that when he came back, I would be out of the apartment and after a reasonable length of time we would tell "our friends" that it just didn't work out, although now that I think about it, I don't know why I should lie and feel embarrassed just because I/Valerie was wronged. He's the fuck-up, he should face it.


Anyway. What I did while Josh was away - where I'm living and how I spent my "Honeymoon," I'll explain another time because that's a whole other story. This was draining. And it wasn't even really my wedding in the first place, and on top of all that, I've been fighting a cold all week, and believe me, Valerie's body is one of the less-resilient ones I've had.


-Tyler

Tyler/Valerie: Cursed.

Is this wedding cursed? Yes, but maybe more than we already knew.


No weddings go off without a hitch. A lot of complications and mishaps are to be expected. But mishaps like the Bride being replaced with a doppelganger who has to impersonate her, that's probably a curveball.


It almost feels a little quaint to have a mundane problem like, oh... not having a dress a week before the ceremony. You might recall that I was not completely happy with the dress I was to wear as Valerie the Bride. No disrespect to her vision, I would have worn it, but to the degree that I have any fashion sense or concept of style for myself (as Valerie), it didn't "work" for me. I know, that's a very "female" issue to have, but trust me guys, when you spend more time floating from body to body, you start to care more about what you dress it in.


I didn't "not have a dress" because I didn't like it though. I was willing to wear it. The dress was bought and paid for and fitted and I was just going to pack it away in my mind, like I do for so much about being Valerie (or anybody) and play my part. And then the seamstress had a flood and the dress was ruined.


After a suitable outburst, Val agreed, when she visited the city, to come help me track down a suitable replacement. Doing so on short notice, with a limited budget (we did get a partial refund from the seamstress but not for her labor) trying to find something that fits and looks good off the racks is... tough.


I mean, I only like clothes-shopping marginally more now than I did as a man, and spending two days with a woman intent on having her perfect wedding despite not actually walking down the aisle for it, is pretty nerve-wracking. Finally I found something that looked like it would fit my unique assets, wasn't eye-gougingly ugly to me, and we could afford.


"No."


"What's wrong with this?"


"It's all wrong, it looks disgusting, take it off."


"You know what, Valerie? I think it looks fine." It was corseted, with elegant off-the-shoulder shear sleeves, and an A-line cut as opposed to the big marshmallowy ballgown she wanted to wear that made my whole figure disappear. I felt strangely comfortable in it like... like this was "my" dress.


"It looks cheap and ugly, take it off, I'd be embarrassed to wear that."


"Valerie, you're not being reasonable."


"TAKE IT OFF!" she screamed and stomped her foot, "PUT IT BACK! LET'S MOVE ON!" Her tall, lean frame loomed over me as she attempted to use her newfound size to browbeat me.


"Shut the fuck up!" I screamed back. "I'm sorry your dress got ruined but there's nothing you can do but put up with it. We're out of options. The wedding is a two weeks away. I'll walk down the fucking aisle in a garbage bag if I feel like it at this point."


She sunk down and tears filled her eyes and I felt extremely guilty.


"It's not fair," she sobbed, "It's just not fair."


"I know," I said, uncertain whether I should move closer and comfort her considering we had just been at each other's throats a second earlier. I looked around to see whether people had taken notice of our shouting match. If so they must have been very confused.


"You deserve better than what you're getting," I said as comfortingly as I could. It didn't seem to help, she sniffled.


"Seeing him at the Bridal Shower was so hard," she sniffled, "I was looking forward to it but... but I was invisible to him, and he went straight to you, and... the way he, the way he looked at you... the way he kissed you... it's like he loves you."


"He doesn't love me," I said firmly. "He loves the person he thinks I am, which is you. I feel it all the time, how much love you're supposed to be getting from him."


"If he really loved me, wouldn't he knew I was... I was gone?"


"You know that's not how it works," I said, patting her back and trying to be as comforting as I could manage.


"I thought I could handle it," she whimpered.


"You're doing your best," I sighed. "We all are."


"Wear whatever you want... it's not really my wedding anymore..."


She was quiet the rest of the day, and then said she would see me at the wedding.


And I'd like to say that was the last problem we had, but sadly...


A few days later, the pictures of the shower got posted to social media, and of course I was tagged in all of them, which means Meg, who now has friended me, saw them, and as soon as she did, she sent me a text.


"Omg. That's the wrong bouquet."


"What?" I wrote back.


"Josh's bouquet. That's not the one I saw him buy. That had red roses, this has pink."


"Um... are you sure?"


"VERY."


Well, now we really do have a problem on our hands.


-Tyler

Tyler/Valerie: Plans, schemes, suspicions and reunions

"I've got a plan," Valerie texts me one day out of the blue.


I brace myself - we've been working separately on how I'm going to address Valerie's "Children Immediately After Marriage" pact with Josh. I'm a little skeptical that she's actually got something usable but I tell her to hit me with it.


"Say you're already pregnant."


I'm glad I didn't get my hopes up.


"No, it will make perfect sense," she insists. "That way he won't bug you about getting pregnant, and it will make sense with your recent change in... behavior. And then that way, you won't have to have sex with him at all!"


"But how am I supposed to be pregnant? He hasn't had sex with-- uh, either of us in months."


"You could be three months in! Lots of women take time to show."


"But I'm not going to show."


"Hit the buffet! He won't know the difference."


I mean, I've been through this process so many times and I have to admit I haven't always coped well under pressure, but this seems especially moronic.


"That really won't work," I sigh, "He knows I've gotten my period."


"Damnit," she replied. "I didn't think he would be paying attention to that."


"Well, he is... he's very attentive."


"I know. God, I miss him. Tell him you love him as soon as you can, okay?"


"Okay. By the way, Val, I have something to tell you, I don't know if you are already aware of this..."


See, the other week, when I was laid up on the couch, I notice something hard and plastic under my ass. I dug under the cushion and found... an old flip-phone. What you might know from Breaking Bad as a "burner."


It had only one number in it and a long series of text messages cryptically saying dates and times, or the occasional "cancellation." The texts were are recent as October.


"I'm guessing it isn't yours," I told her. "And the dates frequently correspond to weekends when Josh was away."


It took her a while to respond, but when she did was, "It's probably just an old work phone. Don't worry about it."


"Val, it's still being used, and not for everyday purposes. This seems incredibly suspicious..." not clarifying that I would know suspicious behavior.


"Drop it, okay? It's none of our business."


I left the phone where it was, knowing that if Josh saw it was gone he would know I had it.


The way I see it, there are two possibilities. One is that Josh is involved in something illegal... insider trading? Drugs? I don't know.


The other possibility is that he's having an affair.


If either one is the case, I honestly don't know what to do. Do I let Val go through with the wedding, and then I'm ostensibly married to a criminal or a cheater? What if, God forbid, I get stuck here, in that situation, especially if we don't figure out a way to avoid me getting pregnant? I'm sorry, I can't leave this idly be.


I didn't want to believe it, because Josh seems a genuinely sweet, caring guy, what kind of stuff could he be involved in? But it's often people you don't expect, because they put in a lot of effort not to be suspected... and since I've been here, Josh's way of doting on me has often seemed... a bit over-the-top.


So I did something I never thought I would have to do. I called my ex-girlfriend to ask her to trail my future husband.


Pete/Brigette, who lives for "Freaky Inn Drama," by her own admission, was disappointed that I didn't call her in on this, but my reasons were obvious: Josh knows Brigette well and would know if he were being followed by her. There was a good chance that Meg would be able to just blend in and go unnoticed.


I'm lucky that Meg still cares enough about me to come all the way down from Vermont, and came up with some cover story to explain it to Justin.


So we waited for this past Friday, when the latest "Meeting" (we assume) was scheduled, for 6:30. Meg was stationed outside his work on Wall Street. When she spotted him leaving, she followed him through the subway, up to a restaurant on 49th Street. It was pricey ("Okay, I'll reimburse... but remember I pour coffee for a living!") and he was eating alone.


Then she followed him to a flower shop in China town. He went in for a while and came out with a bouquet.


Then he got in a cab and disappeared.


"You couldn't follow him?" I asked ruefully.


"Sorry Ty, the whole 'Follow That Cab' thing only works in movies," she sighed, "And in fact I don't even think it works there. I'm a Humanities Grad Student, not a spy."


Still, that was valuable info. A fucking bouquet? Before going away for the weekend? That's a giant red flag, right?


I started to get hot under the collar. I was being cheated on -- I mean, Val was being cheated on, but I felt some of it too, because it meant the affection he was giving to Val, through me, was all a lie, and... well, it is an incredibly messed up situation.


Once we lost track of Josh, Meg and Brigette and I all went out for drinks. Brig was worried about being a bit of a third wheel, but whenever you group a certain number of Inn-people together we all break the ice over our shared experiences so it's not like she was unwelcome. (Honestly, I've been so wrapped up in my own shit lately that I haven't been able to write about the friendship I've forged with her, but she's been very supportive of this "Male fiancé, no sex" situation. Maybe someday she'll bring you up to speed on her drama...)


Meg, who loves New York but doesn't get to come down very often, really felt floored to be visiting me. Time has healed a lot of the wounds between us, and partly that might be because I have spent the last year and more outwardly female... meaning, I guess, that it's easier to think of me as a different person than the one who cruelly left Meghan in early 2016.


As we sat and drank, I kept catching Meghan's eye looking me over and giving a knowing smirk. At first I thought it was judgment for wearing a low-cut top (it's really hard to button these gals all the way up) or maybe... something she approved of.
"What?" I finally asked.


"You're so different now," she said oddly approvingly.


"I only look different," I sighed, "I'm the same crummy person inside."


"You're not. You were never crummy, but take it from someone who has known you as so many different people... this body suits you. It's doing something to your personality. It's like you're... free."


"I'm not," I smiled meekly, "I'm very much in girl-jail. Fiancee-jail. Soon to be marriage-jail."


"Pregnant-jail next!" Brig cheered, unhelpfully.


"Not happening," I scolded.


"Okay, you don't think you've changed. But as long as I've known you you've always seemed like the world was on your back, and now... even with all these stresses and conflicts, the weights isn't there anymore."


"No, the weight's all on my front," I said.


"I'll say, yowza!" she said, eyeballing my chest. "I thought I had it bad as Tasha... well, I did, but you're so short, it looks different on you."


"Any excuse to talk about your tits," Brigette teased. "You don't hear me bringing up my skin color every other second."


"Fair point," I said, "How's, um... how's that working out for you by the way?"


"It's... interesting..." she said, getting a faraway look in her eye, "Most people won't say anything about it, you know, if you're just out in the world. I mean, this isn't the fifties. But if I go to a bar or a busy restaurant or even a store, and I don't see any other black people I feel very aware of it."


We noted with some interest that there were now three "black women" visible on the blog, more than in the past, but why shouldn't there be? The Inn definitely does a random enough job screwing up peoples' lives. (Then Brigette made a crack that it was surprising, since "Brothas and Sistas don't fuck with Scary-Ass Hotels in Maine," putting on a exaggerated "soul sista" voice that caused Meg and I to both insist she never, ever do that again.)


We had a few more rounds and I really put Val's alcohol tolerance to the test, calling this "My real, unofficial Bachelorette Party" since two of the only people who truly care about Tyler Blake were there (My sister Carrie and Kitty, I think, being the other two.) We stumbled home and Meg crashed in my bed and... well, it was weird.


I was lying there in bed with this woman I had loved, this person I was sure I still had unresolved feelings for no matter how hard I tried to move on, and yet... it wasn't hard to resist doing more than that. It wasn't hard to put up a barrier between us. To draw the line and say... this is someone else's girlfriend, and you are someone else's wife-to-be, and... hell, you're both woman and you're just not aligned that way anymore.


I was filled with a kind of romantic longing for what we'd had once, and yet... completely (well, mostly,) without the physical impulses that went along with that.


Hey, on the one hand I would have loved a lesbian experience... or a sexual experience of any kind that I could enjoy... on the other hand, I knew it would be wrong, that our time was passed and this was not us anymore. I suddenly realized that "that" feeling was gone, replaced by, well, true friendship.


Which, considering what I was feeling about Josh at the time, was really comforting.


I invited Meg to stay for Val's Bridal Shower the next day, but she declined, along with my invitation to come to the wedding. "Honestly, I would love to be there to support you, but I'm really not in favor of spending a whole day in the company of strangers having to lie about why I'm there."


I sneered at her, "What do you think I'm going to be doing?"


"Fair enough," she slightly reprimanded herself, "But I really don't feel like I belong. It's one thing to become friends with your ex, but to watch him walk down the aisle... in white gown, no less..."


Through gritted teeth, "You know I'm not really getting married, right?"


"I just really don't think it's a good idea." Solid points she may have had but I was disappointed. Still, it's fixing to be a real busy day for me and I wouldn't be able to make much time for her, and I know she's real sensitive about being left out like that. I promised that I wouldn't let too much time go by before we see each other again.


At the Bridal Shower, I was probably very obviously disinterested... I had a lot on my mind, my emotional state starting to really catch up on me, not just with my suspicions against Josh, but my compunctions about taking Val's place at all. Being the center of attention as her felt wrong, and I knew it would only be worse when I walk down that aisle.


Making things even more complicated was that Val was there.


We invited "Anna" down to see/"meet" her friends, and see what Marie had done for her as Maid of Honor. She looked suitably pleased, and I've gotten the impression from josh that she can be a bit... controlling? Difficult? Impossible? I try to give her the benefit of the doubt but the way he seems afraid to cross her/me, the more I wonder what exactly is so messed up with their dynamic.


It was nice to put a face to the name, though. Phyiscally, Anna is as different from Val as I could imagine. Only a little bit younger, but tall and willowy (she describes her transformation as "A boob job in reverse, plus my legs turning my nightie into a top.") She's quick to call herself less attractive, but she looks very different, with a long, thin nose, eyes that seem a little close together, and a little bit of an overbite, but I think she looks perfectly nice.


She was careful not to seem too enthusiastic about it, and coached me on how I should be responding... which is good because I was in a daze and still debating whether to tell her about the bouquet.


What I didn't know is that there's a tradition with Bridal Showers... at the very end of it, who should appear but Josh, brandishing a beautiful bouquet.


For a little while, I really was Val, melting in appreciation. I hated to lay it on thick with her standing right there, but anything less than full sicky sweet couple mode would have seemed odd.


So that was that. I'm still a little twigged about the secret phone, but the bouquet makes me think we were overreacting to the whole thing. Maybe this guy really is as good as he seems... even if my gut is still telling me different.


-Ty

Tyler/Valerie: The Big Day is Coming Up Fast and I've Got To Take it Slow

This post is coming to you from the couch, where I have spent the last two days.


I may have mentioned something about Valerie's body - despite its certain virtues - not necessarily being the most nimble, when Josh was chasing me around with a squirt gun, but I guess I felt the need to exert myself as if I was still a relatively athletic male. Hence why I regularly run full-sprint for the bus even if it means sending the big balloony jugs under my top flying every which way.


Well, sometimes uneven pavement happens and you fall and twist your ankle. (This is entirely not the fault of my breasts, but if I have to live with them day in and day out you are going to hear about them as often as I see fit... I'm sure you don't mind.)


So for the rest of the week, I'm stationary... which sucks since we have a cake-tasting and the third and final dress-fitting and some other stuff.


When I was put on rest, I felt a huge pang of stress over all this, but it's actually kind of nice to surrender that responsibility. I delegated the non-dress-related stuff to Josh, since it's more his wedding than mine and there are limits to what Val can do from Boston as Anna. But I still feel crummy since I was really getting into a groove with this wedding-planning stuff, and now I'm just knocked flat on my ass. I took a pain killer yesterday and spent the entire day groggy and barely-conscious. I'm not going to repeat that.


On the plus side, feeling gross, grimy and groggy has helped tamp down my libido, which I noted last time was starting to flare up inconveniently. And having Josh, with his big teddy bear eyes waiting on me hand and foot (more than usual) is just more than I can stand right now.


Compared to this time last year, when I was Judith... man, it's night and day. I used to get migraines as her, which would leave me really out of it, and I remember Kit telling me that it was all in my head and not as bad as I was making it seem, and that if I was really concerned I should see a doctor or change my diet.


I didn't think changing my diet would have much of an effect (we didn't know the cause and I didn't feel the urge to start stabbing in the dark) and I didn't want to put Judith on a course of treatment if she felt comfortable just leaving well enough alone... but that didn't mean I didn't hurt and suffer and need a little comfort and compassion. Hell, you would think as a woman she would have some idea that other women have trouble expressing that kind of chronic pain to others and having it believed... but anyway. At this time, we weren't even attempting to make it work, we were just glorified roommates.


Obviously a busted ankle (which is obviously swollen and bruised) is different from the hard-to-express pain of a migraine, but having someone that supportive and caring is... different.


It's been hard to put myself in this vulnerable position, to rely on a man. Coupled with suppressing my own personality, it really makes me feel like I'm not "myself" anymore, or at least that all my transformations have evolved me into someone distinct from the original Tyler Blake I started out as. And it's weird and a bit painful to realize that perhaps my most functional relationship of my entire life - including, sadly, the one with Meghan (I loved her but Lordy we were dysfunctional) is the one where I am patently not "me."


But there is one thing about me that will never change. Josh just left me a cup of tea before going to bed, and I said "Thank you kindly."


He smirked, "I've been meaning to ask... you've been slipping into a weird southern accent a lot lately. Where'd that come from?"


"Flatbush," I said with a wink.


He leaned in and kissed me. "Well, it's cute."


"So're you," I said back with a sigh.


-Tyler/Valerie

Tyler/Valerie: Desire

Some nights I'll be lying there trying to get to sleep and I'll feel Josh's hand sweep across me. Usually it starts down by my knee, sweeps up my thigh, circles my butt, then traces a lazy path up my back. Then he might slide it around my shoulder and rest his palm on my breast. Sometimes, that's all. Sometimes he finds my nipple and starts to trace a circle around it with his to get, trying to coax it into standing up.

Or, he might go even further and start slipping it down my abdomen, past my waist, down to my crotch. It's by that point that I have to jerk my body away and admonish him, "Ah ah, remember our deal." He usually resumes our more innocent (but still pretty intimate) spooning after that. But of course I can feel his telltale erection pressed against my body.

"I can't help it," he might mutter sleepily, "You're so damn irresistible..."

I try not to goad him on too much but maybe there's a little of that. I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy the attention at least a little bit. It can be a lonely life and even this warped version of attention - totally serious but meant for someone else - can feel good. Bad at the same time, but good too.

I wonder, for all my conviction, if I might have given in and had sex with him by now if it weren't for the promise I made Valerie. (I'm well aware that there's lots of precedent for that on this very blog... See Meg's posts!) At what point, I wonder, might my reasons go from "Val and I agree I shouldn't do it," to just plain "I told Val I wouldn't do it."

Facing facts, Val's hormones are really starting to kick in. My body has been female for two of the last three years, and I've had plenty of time to make my peace with the implications of that. And now, compared to Judith, I'm young and hot and feeling good (most days) about my body, and I have tons more energy that could use an outlet. I used to find it a lot easier not to think about sex or notice guys.

I think I must even be putting out vibes lately - forgetting myself, that I'm supposed to be nearly a married woman. I find myself being extra-sweet to people at the coffee shop, and that leads to guys lingering a bit too long at the counter before I snap out of it and shoo them away. (Then there's also the guys who were going to linger or ask me out anyway because they can't take a hint.) Rafe, the spindly man-bunned barista who hits on all the other girls has increased the pressure to join him for a drink after work more and more.

And that brings me to this...

A while back, on the last warm weekend of summer/fall, he surprised me by taking me to "my" favorite place, Coney Island. I haven't been to an amusement park or county fair in a long time so I enjoyed myself -- but I think my reaction was far from the extreme glee he was counting on.

At the end of the day, we were walking along the shore, eating Nathans hot dogs, and he took my hand in his and asked what was wrong.

I told him nothing was wrong and he chuckled and said obviously that wasn't true... I've been scatterbrained, distracted and a bit unpredictable the past few months.

I sighed "I'm planning a wedding, Josh... That's pretty stressful."

"Are you sure that's all it is? I could take over some of the work if you need me to..."

I waved him off. He works long days and spends almost every moment on my presence working to be Wonder Boyfriend. The last thing I need is to heap any more tasks on him, especially since the real Val is guiding me through it all with her very specific vision.

"I just worry there's something you're not telling me, and, you know, I want you to feel you can share everything with me and I won't judge."

My heart could have broken for him. He was being so honest and vulnerable about his feelings, something I've always had trouble doing.

"Here's why I'm worried, Val. I haven't heard you laugh in days. You used to laugh at the drop of a hat, often at this that truthfully aren't funny. Now when you do laugh, it's almost not even your laugh. It's still a nice, pretty laugh but itsw more, I don't know... Weary."

I felt hot under the collar. It hurt a bit to be contrasted with the real Valerie, but I tried to put that away. I twisted my mouth trying to read him. Was he suspecting the truth? He couldn't - nobody would ever imagine a magical impostor. And yet, if you're with someone for years it stands to reason that, if you're an overly attentive partner like Josh, you will notice things.

"I'm still me," I said, probably too emphatically.

"Obviously, but... It's like the life's being sucked out of you and I would hate to think I have anything to do with that."

I smiled weakly. "You don't... Even of it were true."

"Well it's still my job to make sure that doesn't happen."

And with that he produced a small water gun and squirted me right across the chest.

"Josh!" I gasped.

He produced a second one and said with a grin, "You're it." As soon as I took it, he ran.

"You're dead!" I cried out, chasing him around and trying to catch him with the spray - evidently squirt gun tag is a favorite hobby of Josh and Val's. He didn't reckon, I was a pretty good shooter in my day.

"We're not stopping until I hear that laugh!" He called out. And he seemed to mean it, because we went around for a long while, refilling from the ocean, until my lungs gave out and I collapsed in the sand.

He rushed up and started to squirt me. "Josh, no!" I said, unable to suppress a girlish giggle.

"There it is! There's my girl," he said, continuing to fire.

"And she's pissed!" I said back, springing to me feet and tackling him with perhaps unexpected force. Kneeling on him, he couldn't stop laughing as I emptied my gun on him (one consequence of being a cute female is that shows of aggression are sadly somehow laughable... Even if I WAS as angry as I was playing it still would have seemed harmless! Ugh.)


He did have one advantage: I was moving pretty gingerly to avoid letting the girls jiggle too much... I wasn't exactly dressed for an impromptu chase scene, and there's a very real possibility of hitting myself in the face with them. (Maybe that's just my imagination but it certainly seems possible based on some of the times I've had to run for the bus.)



Then when both our guns were empty, he swept a wet hair off my forehead, and I leaned in and kissed him... Maybe not the first time I had initiated it, but the most serious for sure. In fact, I let us get swept up in a hot and heavy public make out session before I knew it, with my legs wrapping themselves, as a reflex almost on their own, around his body.

"Mm, mm that's enough," I gasped as we parted lips after maybe ten whole minutes.

"Shall we continue this at hone?" He asked hopefully, hinting at sex.

I stammered, "I, uh... Maybe. But my promise remains intact. Sorry."

He mimed being angry for a second, then kissed me atop the head. He was a good sport, that was for sure.

I struggled to help him to his feet and we walked back up to the car

And he put his arm around my lower back

And I steadied myself on his shoulder, rested my head on his arm

And the sun was going down

And

Well, it was a nice moment. And we almost got carried away, but I saved it, and no harm was done.

I guess that's the thing, the temptation is always going to be there, but I've got years of double lives under my belt. I can deal. It's important to me that I can look Valerie's face in the mirror every morning and know that I did the right thing.

-Tyler

Tyler/Valerie: Heat

It wasn't overly hot in Brooklyn this August (for crissakes I'm from Alabama) but it was still nice when summer turned to fall. Maybe it's the leftover Judith side of me that prefers to dress in layers - cardigans or flannel over shirts and black leggings or jeans. Basically, more skin coverage, less... Tight and visible. No more feeling compelled to let my cleavage be out on display. Much less sweat pooling under my boobs too. And I always thought women loved fall because of pumpkin spice drinks.
I've found that skirts and dresses do have their advantages - in hot weather, they're usually pretty light fabric and the lack of coverage, as much as I prefer to be modest about Val's gifts, is good for keeping cool. And a once-piece dress does cut down on outfit-building time, I've known since my Judith days. But it highlights the figure and makes me appear hyper-feminine, when I would like to shoot for something as neutral as possible. Fall apparel here I come.

The summer was also a rough time to be in a cramped, non-air-conditioned apartment. There were times when I allowed myself to strip down to bra and panties (let's be honest - even just the panties as long as I can close the blinds) just for going around, albeit only when Josh wasn't around. You could use the argument that "I haven't got anything he hasn't seen" but I don't buy that. You wouldn't say that to your partner's twin, and that's basically what I've become. I still have the right to say who gets to see me in what appearance. Besides, I made the guy swear off sex with his fiancee - he doesn't need the temptation.

Let's face it, while it is a nice way to beat the heat, it's also for me. I may be as much woman as man lately but I don't think anyone would begrudge me the desire to lounge around half-dressed looking this way. I'm getting used to the idea that I have a body in its prime again - with sexy, if unusual proportions. It helps me feel more at home in this skin. Besides, if I have to lug around these big jiggly mini-watermelons, and all the frustrations that entails, I might as well take a moment or two each day to enjoy them.

Speaking of enjoying things when Josh isn't around, I discovered a little gelato place around the corner that also helped to beat the heat... Despite Val's complaints that while yes, their chocolate-pistachio is better than sex, she has a wedding dress to fit into soon and Josh promised to discourage bad behavior.

After making my third, and I swore final, trip there in a week, I found a coffee shop not far from the apartment that was hiring. It's one of those hipster indie places, a real homey vibe to it. More frou-frou than the old Tyler Blake would have been comfortable inhabiting, but he's been gone a while now. The pace feels just about right for Ty-Val.

Josh confessed his disappointment... In a way it's nice to know there are some points of friction in this seemingly-perfect relationship. I already had an inkling, but this is the first interaction we've had that could almost be considered a "fight" (albeit a one-sided, low-key one.)

I think he was hoping I would keep trying to work in Early Childhood Education, but these are the jobs that are available now, and we need money.

Hmmm... I just wrote "we" need money. We're a "we" for sure, just... A very unconventional one. And I felt a little bad letting him down, since he's not controlling or a nag except about this one thing, and he has reason to. This is clearly a sore spot for him, and he went on this rant about stalling, and living up to my potential, and moving to a new phase in life... And I sat there and took it, instead of getting upset, because it hit home.

I could use some direction. I could use a chance to settle down and get to that new phase of life myself, and stop working unfulfilling Joe Jobs (or Jane Jobs.) Only I don't have a choice. This isn't my life, I'm very limited in what I can do with it, and if he understood the truth...

Well, things would be different then wouldn't they?
I kissed him and told him to hang in a little longer. "Our" lives are just beginning.

  - Ty/Val

Tyler/Valerie: Work

Josh was very supportive when I told him I was already applying for new jobs.

"Great," he says, "Where?"

I name off a few restaurants that are hiring in the kitchen. Immediately he winces.

"Hon, um... what about ECE?"

ECE = Early Childhood Education, Valerie's chosen field, what she just graduated from College to learn. A subject I happen to know nothing about, despite recently playing the part of "Mom."

At this time, it was early August, still time to find employment in that field by September, but I am not interested in trying to fake my way through someone else's job.

I stammer out a lie, "Oh, yeah, I've been looking... nothing concrete yet. But I figured I'd take on a second job, too, you know... student loans don't pay themselves off."

"I see," he nods. "Okay, if that's what you think is best."

I twist my mouth mischievously. "Not all of us got a nice Wall Street job right out of school, with our uncle's neighbor." I happen to have some knowledge of Josh's life.

"Hey, I earned this," he smiles, "With hours and hours of unpaid internship, remember?"

"Right," I say, delivering the coup de grace, "And that internship was possible because your loving girlfriend worked 40 hours a week on top of her school schedule to pay for a place to live."

He huffs an apologetic, "Let's not have this fight again," and hugs me. I don't feel good about it, but knowing how Val had him wrapped around his finger comes in handy.

I did put in some applications for Daycare and Infant Care positions, and any interviews I got, I bombed -- perhaps deliberately but I doubt I would present as the most capable candidate. Still, it doesn't take much, just slouch, seem disinterested, and have bad answers. So I could look Josh in the eye and say I tried.

By late August, I still didn't have an ECE job and Josh was off my case. But I still didn't have a part time job either.

It was frustrating. I'm not a brilliant chef by any means but I have some good skills and can be slotted in to any line. But I'm used to Kitchen Managers looking at me and seeing a rugged, experienced guy, not a fresh-faced young girl with no kitchen jobs on her resume, just waitressing (snd knowing the friction that often exists between front-of-house staff and the kitchen... yikes.) Honestly, I look like a delicate flower who would get stomped on in a kitchen, and I know it.

So, finally, I challenged my interviewer: take me back there, slot me in for a shift, unpaid and off the books. If you like my work, hire me. This is at a pretty nice Manhattan hotel, they don't usually do stuff like this.

This was no exception. But I had "balls, for a broad" so I got a two-week assessment period.

At the end of week one, I was sweaty and exhausted, this body not used to producing the adrenaline necessary for a high pressure work environment (although I'm sure childcare is not a snooze either!) But I survive my probation.

Two benefits here: One, I make my own money, so I don't have to pathetically ask my financially-stable fiancé for hand outs. And two, the hours are like 4 PM-close, which could be well after midnight, so I don't much see him... which, hey, I like the guy well enough but it makes things a lot easier with our no-intimacy pact.

The only problem is? I freaking hated it.

Like I said, Val isn't necessarily built for this... I have no reach, and my boobs get in the way of everything. Plus, there's a lot of yelling that needs to be done and whenever I hear my high-pitched voice call out "Yes, Chef!" I cringe. I felt like I'd lost more than a step and was going home frustrated and upset every night. I was almost as achy and tired after one day as I was during a week of being Judith (who, you might recall, was prone to migraines and sore joints.)

A lot has changed for me, but kitchen jobs are basically the same. The mentality is very much immature frathouse hijinks to take the pressure off. Guys talk about dirty stuff they would to do female patrons, have contests to see how long they can hold spatulas in their asses, and of course do filthy things to the food of patrons they didn't like.

Aside from my years in the Guard, I spent most of my 20's as part of that world. And it made a lot of sense then. But not now.

Even worse... I'm an outsider, a new hire who seemingly has no experience, looks prissy and soft, and has no previous experience. So I got targeted pretty bad. Now, I can take it, like I said I've been around the block -- if they want to come at me with some sexist remarks about how they want to tie my tits to the house from "Up" and float away, I can fire back about how I would crush their junk into a cube like "Wall-E." And if they want to smear certain bodily fluids on the very nice, very expensive bra I left in my locker (remember, not many retailers carry decent bras in all sizes) I can deposit certain sanitary devices in their lockers.

I could earn their respect, but it took me a while to realize... why should I bother?

I was venting to Pete about how much extra work it was, how I felt so differently about it now, because I'm a bit older and female, so my perspective has changed.

Pete shrugged, "So, why bother? Why not just quit and do something else?"

I scoffed. "I'm not going to let them chase me away."

"Why not?" Pete said, "Is this your dream job? Do you see yourself advancing in this world? After all, you're only gonna be Valerie for a year or so. Why put up with shit you don't need to take? What are you really losing if you take the L here? Find an easier, less frustrating and sexist job. That's not letting them win, that's showing them you don't need to play."

I blew that advice off initially, but it was ringing in my ears the next time one of the guys tried to twerk on me during he lunch rush.

I went to the kitchen manager, and said, "Hey, I'm quitting."

He looked at me like an irritation, "Don't get your panties in a wad... I can talk to the guys if you want me to."

"No, no, don't bother," I sighed. "I know what it's like. Believe me. A few years ago I would have been up for it, and trust me, I could give as good as I got. But I'm tired, man. I'm older. These guys are having a lot of fun being young assholes, and they'll outgrow it eventually I hope, but it's not the right place for me anymore."

He raised an eyebrow. "Older? You're what, twenty-two?"

I shrugged, "Twenty-three," meaning really thirty-one, "But I've gotta grow up sometime. Thanks for giving me a shot."

I had mixed feelings about that decision. By this time it was early September, too late to get an ECE job if I had wanted one. I went home and crawled into bed next to Josh.

"Mmm... babe, 'zat you?" he muttered.

"Uh huh... shhh, just go back to sleep."

"Our deal..." he said dreamily, "Does that include hand stuff?"

I snickered, "Yeah, I think so."

"Aw, that's too bad," he whispered, eyes still closed, "...For you, I mean."

Cute smile.

I rolled over, and he did too to be the big spoon. "I'll manage."

"Yeah," he said, "I managed twice today. G' night."

More to come...
Ty/Val

Tyler/Valerie: Three In a Bed

Fake love is weird.

Waking up every morning next to a man who thinks you are the love of his life is strange. And he is a very attentive, interested partner... I was hoping that this would be one of those relationships where the parties are just kind of on auto-pilot after a few years and don't take much notice of each other, but I guess true love, or something like it, does exist.

So when I start wearing less make-up than Valerie did, or I forego her favorite wedges for flats (even though let's face it, I could use the height,) Josh is there to raise an eyebrow. Not in a judgmental way, or an "I'm starting to suspect my fiancée has been replaced by a doppelganger" way, but in a "I'm in love with you and I am aware of these things" kind of way.

The big ones are the ones pertaining to everyday routines. I offered to cook, or do dishes, and he swatted me down: "Are you kidding? This is the best part of my day. You relax. Find us something on Netflix."

He clears the plates, and with a bit of sincerity, I ask, for both myself and Valerie, "What did I do to deserve you?"

"I don't know," he kisses me on top of my head, "But it must have been good because I'm great."

He re-appears in the doorway to the kitchen. "Oh, I remember now - you were just you."

I smirk. Humble, funny, affectionate. Valerie is lucky. So, can I bring myself to see myself as a lucky one?

I don't know. As much as, if you were Val, you wouldn't want somebody "filling in" in your relationship, it has happened, it's out of our control, and we need to do our best. And as much as, if you were me, you wouldn't want to have to pretend to be somebody you're not for too long, I have to think... it could be worse.

I'm not with someone who's argumentative or difficult or annoying. I don't ask a lot of him, but Val must have because he has internalized this need to serve and show off, which is weird, but I guess I want to return him to Val in that shape, so I can't go saying "Hey, just for this next year or so, we should be more like equals, roommates even, and then after I get back from my next trip to Maine you can go back to treating me like a princess. Please don't ask why."

He's actually pretty accepting... I mean, he can clearly tell that something is "up" with his fiancée, I think my blanket excuse that "Oh, I think the wedding prep is making me a bit crazy, just go with it," is... holding, more or less.

There's the physical aspect, of course. There's cuddling, hand-holding, and lots of kissing, which I just have to accept.

It wasn't that long ago that I broke up - or whatever it was - with Kitty. Was I a married lady, or just a person with a live-in partner in a relatively new relationship, or were we picking up where we left off when we were Alan and Greta, or... I mean, it was complicated, and it left me a trifle dazed. I got out of that feeling like I could really use some alone time, and then the Inn deposited me here. The result is not that far off from what I'm "used to" after so much time with Kitty, but very different in those key ways... something I can do, but not necessarily be happy about.

It can still be a bit hard to access, even for pretend purposes, the kind of feelings Val would express on a regular basis. And I mean, I'm still not fully healed from the last time I was in love and totally fucked it up. (Based on what I did to Meghan, do I really deserve to have someone love me for me ever again? A I totally innocent where Kitty is concerned? God only knows.) So there's a bit of a hiccup whenever I have to say, "I love you (too.)"

But it's getting easier.

Remember, more than a month has passed since I met this guy, and aside from taking longer in the bathroom in the morning than any man should, he hasn't shown any serious flaws. Do I think the relationship is perfect? Maybe not, but I can't say I blame him for that. He deserves his partner, and I'm finding it easier every day to be that for him.

I mean, four years ago, when this first happened, being told whom to sleep beside and kiss and spend so much of my waking hours with, would have been nightmare stuff. "You want me to what? Pass." I cast a lot of judgment on Meg for doing pretty much this same stuff with Wade back in the day and proudly told myself I would never.

Now, it comes a lot easier.

And you can forget all the weirdness of him being a guy because I'm not a guy right now and... I mean, maybe for the rest of my life I'll always be stuck somewhere in between. And while I'm still not entirely sure what that means for my true identity, what I really am deep down inside, it's less of a barrier.

That just leaves one.

Flashback: It's night two. I spent all day browsing the want ads for a possible job, put out some resumes, and fed the cat (an orange tabby named Cheddar who loves nuzzling my boobs - who wouldn't?) We had stir fry for dinner. My note, "It was good, but next time you should add mushrooms," is met with a puzzled reminder that I "hate" mushrooms. Whatever, that can change. We are on the couch and I am flipping through Netflix, as described above, trying discreetly to avoid things in the "Watch Again" tab that I haven't seen.

He returns and motions for me to lay my head down against this lap. Remember, it's night two so this is a pretty big test of my resolve. I find a different position, but I can tell he's feeling... frisky... because he's up against me like, well, Cheddar.

I had a couple of glasses of wine with dinner ("A second cup?" he says, Wow, who are you?" Somebody who needs to drink more to forget how badly she's failing at being Valerie, apparently) so I was feeling... okay. I let him kiss me. Let his hands go up and down my sides, feeling the strap of my bra (have I mentioned how sore my shoulders are from having to support these things all the time?) I'm warming up, but still not really into it, and I get taken further out of the moment with his next observation, "Hey, you've usually taken your bra off well before dinner. You going somewhere?"

I blush and push back a little bit. "Oh, um, I guess I forgot about it." (Heh, like I could. Your friendly reminder that the girls are quite overgrown now, and mighty unhappy about their confinement.) "Say, about that, there's something I've been meaning to ask. And if it's a 'no,' that's totally cool, but um... what would you say if we... didn't... do anything... until the wedding? You know... kinda save ourselves?"

He sits up and says nothing. Just blinks. Long pause. Buffering.

Flashback earlier that day: Panicked after night one and the possibilities, I call Valerie.

"So, uh," I say, nervously, "I'm sorry we didn't get to this sooner but... I mean, you're young, in love, and very pretty."

"Thanks," she said, apparently not sensing where I was going.

"What is your and Josh's situation like? I imagine he's... going to want to... get busy."

"Huh?"

"Sex, Valerie. How, uh, do you want to play this?"

"Oh my God," she said, on the brink of tears yet again, "I can't even imagine! You don't want to--"

"No!" I said shortly, "I don't want to. Believe me, I can go without. But... like, how can we be fair to him? I'm going to be here a while."

"I don't know. The idea of sharing him is just... I'd rather die. I'm sorry, I know you didn't ask for this, and you may look like me, but... I can't get past it. It's disgusting."

"Right, right," I said. Now, I've heard a lot of people sort of surrender to the inevitability of this situation, but this is a natural reaction too. This is her fiancé we're talking about. Her man. She's entitled to some say, some jealousy.

"What if I said, let's wait until the wedding? To make it, like, special, or something?"

"But the wedding's in November..." she sighed, "What will you do after that?"

I kind of grumbled, "Well, I'll probably just have to face the music. But it's sort of a compromise."

She kind of grunted in frustration - whomever she has become normally has quite a nice voice, but it definitely capable of some bovine utterances.

"He probably won't go for it. I don't want this to cause trouble in my relationship."

"So... you want me to just have sex with him?"

"No. Maybe. If you have to. But not very often, and don't make it last any longer than it has to."

I rolled my eyes. Sounds like a great deal for me.

"He's out of town two weekends a month for work, I work a lot of weeknights--"

"Worked," I said, "You were fired for skipping shifts. I'll get a new job quick, though."

"Oh, right. Well, our schedules only line up so much, so it's like the planets really have to align for us to both be in the mood."

I looked down at my rack - I found it hard to believe he wouldn't be in the mood more often, but that's neither here nor there.

"Try the 'saving it' thing," she sighed. "That seems like the best option, but I doubt he'll agree."

Later that night: He spent a few moments thinking it over. Felt like five minutes but that's only because thirty seconds can seem like eternity when nobody's speaking. I held my breath. I was this close to saying 'Forget it, I was being silly, let's just do it right now.'

"Okay," he finally said, to my relief.

I raised my eyebrows. "Are... you sure?"

"Yeah," he said, in a way that actually meant 'no,' "If that's what you want. It sounds nice."

I threw my arms around him. "Thank you baby! I love you so much. I promise it will be worth the wait!"

We embraced, and kissed, and everything was great for a moment.

"It's just a shame, because, you know, that other promise."

I hated to break character again, because this seemed like it should be obvious to the real Valerie, but I had to ask. "Which promise was that?"

He looked at me like I was a total crazy idiot for forgetting - but at least a cute one that he couldn't wait to have sex with again. "The promise that you'd flush your birth control pills down the toilet once we got back from our honeymoon."

Um... right.

I guess we'll cross that bridge when we get to it.

Tyler/Valerie: Hitting the Ground Running

I felt utterly drained by the time I got to New York. My mind raced. I was set to play-act as fiancée to a man I have never met, Josh Freeman. I spent the day leading up to it just staring into space.

Pete - characteristically as I have learned - was not helpful, looking at it from a rosy viewpoint, because it wasn't happening to him: "I bet you're really up to this challenge. This is advanced stuff. I mean, you've never really had to fake it before... you wrote your own ticket as Judith, and Alan... hell, even when you were Lauren it kind of seemed like you had leeway to do what you wanted. Imagine if this was your first transformation? Do you think he'll want sex? I can't imagine he doesn't. It's at least a little exciting, isn't it? Like, if you could step outside yourself and watch. I bet it'll make for a good blog."

Imagine that for the length a full-day trip down to NYC... we had gone by train and I was really regretting not springing for plane tickets.

I had made contact with Valerie to get her blessing about me living her life. I know none of us has a choice in all this but I wanted to do the honorable thing. I told her about the blog, and said that she could read up on my personal track record and keep tabs on what I was doing with her life. She said that she would look into my past, but that I should keep her up to date on my actions, so reading the blog would not be necessary in the future.

She and Josh had known each other since high school, began dating five years ago, and had been engaged since last summer. They struck me as sickeningly sweet - their text messages to each other littered with hearts and kisses. From everything I could tell, these are two people utterly, passionately in love with each other. When I called to him to apologize for staying in Maine so extra long, and that I would be home soon, he didn't just say "That's okay," but seemed very concerned for my safety and wellbeing - hell, he was downright apologetic, adding how much he looked forward to seeing me, which gave me a knot in my stomach. After years of, as Pete said, "writing my own ticket," I would have to pretend to be in love with someone, devoted to them, that I was the one who knew them best.

After everything I've been through, it seemed scary, but also borderline offensive. That I could just walk in there and take this woman's place, accept all the love that was meant for her.

"Is there any way we can postpone the wedding?" I asked Valerie.

"No," Valerie said sadly. "The hall is booked, the deposits paid, the invites out, the dress..."

I actually a bit about know how tough it is to plan an event like this thanks to my time as Judith, but I thought maybe there would be leeway.

I couldn't help but say, "But you're going to miss..."

"Don't you think I know that??" she snapped at me. "I don't get to walk down that aisle and stand next to the man I love, say my vows, cut the cake... throw the bouquet..." she was crying, I could hear.

"I'll be there, though," she said, composing herself. "Don't worry."

"Of course, of course... we'll say you're a... cousin or a work friend or something."

"Yes, yes," she said, probably tearing up again, "Oh God... I don't know if I can handle it... I just love him so much..."

"Hey, it's gonna be okay," I said, trying to sound as reassuring as possible, hiding the notes of doubt in my voice. "We'll get you through this."

Here we were, in a situation neither of us wanted to be in, trying to navigate it as best we could.

"I really appreciate your help, Tyler," she sniffled at the end of our call. "When this happened, when they told me there would be another person taking my life, I was afraid... I was so scared this was the end of my relationship."

I couldn't make any promises, but I wanted to be the best Valerie I could.

So by the time I got to Brooklyn, standing at the threshold of Val and Josh's apartment, dimly aware of what was waiting for me and the pressure of my new role, I shed all my selfish fears and insecurity, aware that I was doing all this for somebody else. that if I wasn't meant to have love in my life, I would do my best to help others.

The door opens.

A man has just risen from his place on the couch in anticipation, hearing the key in the lock.

I am vaguely aware he is tall, handsome, with good hair, somewhere between rugged and a pretty-boy in looks.

I will myself into Valerie's psyche, try to imagine how these two lovers must feel after going so long without seeing each other.

I must look like a mess in my shorts and tank top - hair in a ratty ponytail, face red and puffy from heat, sweating under my tits.

I drop my bag on the floor. He rushes over and take me in his arms. I let myself be taken instead of doing the sane thing and saying "I'm tired and I just want to go to bed."

He plants a deep, long passionate kiss on my lips, followed by several small ones, then holds me. I feel how small I am more than ever.

A few things are said, "I missed you, I was worried, I love you so much," that sort of thing - as if he could almost sense the kind of bind she's really in.

"It's okay, it's okay, I'm here now."

It was a whirlwind of emotion. But before things got too out of hand, I parted my lips from his.

"Not to wreck the moment, but I haven't eaten a thing."

A place is already set. It's a prime rib roast - a pretty good one, too.

He stares at me all lovey-dovey while I eat. He's obviously curious about where I've been and what really happened but he seems to respect my desire not to go over it.

I'm so hungry I probably make borderline sexual grunts while I eat. He's amused. I must be very cute.

I find it strangely easy to treat this guy like I already know him -- years of practice faking things. I ask him about his week, prepared with a few conversational prompts Val has offered me. He mentions a few names and I want to double back and clarify who did what but I worry that will reveal my secret somehow, so I nod along and make a point to ask Valerie later.

He's clearly very tuned into Val's emotions because he sees I'm worn out and, when I go to clear the plates, he insists I just head to bed. I was hoping to look in the kitchen and memorize where things are but that will have to wait. I do that in the bedroom instead. The bed is covered in pillows and neatly made. A woman definitely lives here.

I like a glass of water before bed - apparently this is weird because Josh asks, "Isn't that just going to make you have to pee?" I drink it anyway and he turns out to be right, as of 2:30 AM.

Strike two: I forego brushing my hair. ("Man, you must really be tired," he says, lying on the bed in his boxers shamelessly. I curse Val for not detailing every single quirk Josh is likely to note.)

Strike three: I was in a t-shirt that came down nearly to my knees, and a pair of shorts. "Won't you be hot?" he asks. And yes, under the comforter, in the stiff air of the apartment, I am, and the fabric is scratchy against my skin.

I'm reluctant to bare it all especially since I just "got" it, but why be modest? We're in the dark and he's seen it on Val. So what if it didn't used to be mine. (That sounds logical, but in practice, you try getting naked with a man you've only just an hour or so ago. It took a lot of hemming and hawing before I finally gave in and slept shirtless.)

I was frazzled - in all my years I've never been interrogated this way. I was halfway towards breaking down out of exhaustion and frustration right there and tried to tell him everything, but I was stopped.

He slipped into bed behind me and wrapped his arms around me.

"It's okay," he said softly. "Tomorrow will be better. I love you."

My heart sank. But I owed it to Valerie to represent.

As warmly as I could, I cooed, "I love you too, good night."

And so it began...