Meg/Tasha: On the couch

Have I ever told you I've screwed up every relationship I've ever had? Of course not. I guess I've been pretty guarded about myself. Sure, I've had some good ones, but in the end it always goes bad and it always feels like my fault. Dating all the way back to the seventh grade when I liked Tommy Fitzgerald but I was afraid to dance with him, so he danced with Ashley Cooper instead and they ended up dating for two years. She was 5'7 and blonde, how could I compete??

(Checks mirror) Oh, yeah. Well, fat lot of good it's doing me. I mean "careful what you wish for," right?

Then there was high school - the garden variety "he's just not that into you" spiel. I always felt too brainy, too snarky, not approachable enough. I was basically April from Parks & Recreation but with cat's eye glasses and a Kurt Vonnegut book tucked in my backpack. Sometimes guys would think I was their dream girl, then get disappointed with the reality of a testy, introverted bookworm. Sometimes I would just fall for the wrong guy.

I was in a relationship for a year and a half when I had the car accident that left me using a cane. Emotionally, I was a wreck afterwards and I really let it get between us. But I think I just used it as an excuse to push him away. After that I had a few disastrous dates - usually I blamed the cane - and then I stopped trying. Then eventually I went to Maine.

In the past month I feel like I've wrecked three relationships simultaneously, as if that's even possible.


Let's start with Wade. When I first met him, he seemed like, well, not my type to put it mildly. Goofy, boyish, bit of a sophomoric sense of humor (and an immature worldview) I thought I was going to be pulling my hair out the entire way. I could not date this person, and I could definitely not pretend to be some airhead just to make him happy. But a shocking thing happens when you plop yourself into a relationship that has already lasted years: comfort. We bickered, but ultimately he let me have my way on things that I was pretty unflexible about (that Tasha probably wouldn't have.) He saw this seismic change in his girlfriend and decided "She's still my girlfriend and I want to make her happy" and that was touching. It made me want to be a good girlfriend to him.

There was a period, from September to December, when I could fake my way through things with Wade. I was happy and comfortable and the sex was fine. (I should note that as Tasha, I'm less sensitive than I am as myself which was actually quite a hurdle to get over.) I was getting almost exactly what I needed, and my best friend was my stepsister who was a man inside. Okay that wasn't ideal but whatever. It was working.

Then came Mykal, the yoga instructor. I got into the habit of going out for coffee with him, since he makes his own schedule and I work nights. We had a lot of really great chats, although his passion for Eastern medicine and spirituality is a bit cheesy. He's still a well-read, worldly guy. But I told myself that there was a line and I would not cross it. As Tasha, I owe it to her, myself and Wade not to screw things up. But if I was smart I would have stayed the hell away. I thought I could have my cake and eat it too. After all, I've had plenty of male friends, and they never had trouble not making a pass at me (see: introverted, not approachable.) Sometimes I forget what I look like, what a smile or a friendly touch on the shoulder could mean to a guy.

And it didn't help matters that the more he turned on the charm, the more I felt butterflies.

And the more I noticed how I didn't feel butterflies with Wade. And then I felt bad about that.

Then one night in January, Mykal was driving me home from the bar, where he had popped in to see me, and we got to my building, and we just kind of looked at each other and decided to do what we both wanted.

We kissed.

And we just couldn't stop kissing.

And I was just so excited to be there that I started playing with his, well, you-know-what... and let him spurt all over the place.

Including, I later noticed, a little spatter that had traveled from his crotch to my pant leg.

Then I crawled into bed with Wade, but I couldn't sleep. I had this anxiety attack that Wade would wake up and decide to look in the hamper for some reason. Or that there was more that I hadn't seen. Or that Wade could smell it on me. So I got up and just started pacing around the living room in tears.

Days passed. Wade didn't seem to suspect anything, but I was pretty reluctant to see Mykal. I was texting Ty every ten minutes, which of course is a no-no because he was in school, and honestly I was abusing his goodwill anyway because, if you've been reading this since the beginning, you might know that Tyler has some pretty serious feelings for me that we've just agreed never to address... which was foolish because I needed some emotional support and he was my only option and that was so, so, so unfair of me.

So I had Tyler getting impatient with my BS, which was fair, and I had Mykal tapping his foot wondering if we were going to become anything, and I had Wade who I couldn't even look in the eye anymore.

So I cracked one night, when Wade and I were both off. I sat him down and started by asking how he felt about "us." He said he thought things were fine. I said I'd been having some doubts. He sat up... he knew exactly what that meant, because he had been suspicious of Mykal for some time.

He flew into a rage, throwing around words like "duplicitous" and "untrustworthy" and spouting off about what he assumed my defenses would have been if I were the real Tasha. I said I had no defense, and he said "No shit."

He told me to get out. I didn't want to go to Paul and Sue's -- there are enough people under that roof and I couldn't face Tyler either -- so I went to Mykal's. The only person I thought would have me.

He let me sleep on his couch, thankfully holding back his obvious curiosity about where that left us, because I simply could not handle any more drama at the time.

The next day he made me breakfast and we talked about what we wanted. I wondered how mad Tasha would be at me if I left her life with a new boyfriend she had never met before. Mykal made a very compelling case for "us," but I told him I owed it to "myself" to try to make it work with Wade.

And he said "Well if you go back to him and it doesn't work, don't bother trying to come back here."

I don't really care for ultimatums, so I told him I would see him around.

I got back to the apartment and stopped at the door. I had to remind myself what I was trying to rescue, not for me, but for Tasha. She obviously loved Wade, she had been with him for years and had a home with him. I couldn't believed I had put it in jeopardy with one careless night. I hoped it was strong enough to withstand this.

I went in and found a bunch of my clothes piled carelessly in the living room. We were not off to a good start.

When I found him, we were both in more of a state of mind to talk, but not by much. I chose my words very carefully. I told him things had been weird with me lately, and he asked why.

I said I couldn't put my finger on it.


He said that wasn't good enough.

I asked if there was any way he could forgive me, anything I could say or do.

He took a long breath and stared off into space. Like he was doing some mental math.

Finally he spoke.

"It was only once?"

I nodded and said an almost inaudible "Yes."

"And you told me right away?"

I shrugged a guilt-ridden "Couple of days."

He nodded slowly. Adding it all up.

"Sleep on the couch for a while, I guess," he said in this wounded whisper. "We'll work on it."

I wiped the tears from my eyes and I reached out to hug him. He hesitated but let me.

He went to work, and I spent the day at home cursing at myself, pacing, excoriating myself because I have more character than that, I'm supposed to be better than that.

The word "Why" rang in my ears for days afterward. That look on his face when I told him things were weird and he asked "Why." Not "why couldn't I put my finger on it," because that goes into the whole backstory of what happened to me and Tasha. But "Why did I do it?"

Why couldn't I just be happy with Wade? Just for a few months? I'm so used to being on my own, and being in this relationship doesn't take that much work, so why couldn't I resist the urge to screw it all up for one measly year?

But I felt that pain of confessing and talking it out with him... suddenly I felt closer to him than I ever had before, as guilty and self-hating as I was. I couldn't stand that I had hurt such a nice guy who was very accommodating to me. I felt the urge to make it work stronger than I had in my entire time in Pittsburgh.

I tested myself, and failed, and became determined not to do so again.

Then I needed to ask... why did he take me back? Why didn't he do the right thing and punish me for my wrongdoing? Why does he think this relationship is strong enough to survive it?

Is it because he doesn't think he can do better? Because of how I look? Is it because he loves Tasha?

Is it because he... loves me?

Maybe?

I don't know, I don't know. Maybe I'm crazy. I'm definitely sick with guilt and still onthe couch after 2 weeks, but we're rebuilding. And Tasha I'm sorry.

As far as wrecking this with Tyler, that's a related issue. I feel like I've taken his friendship for granted with my drama when he's got more serious things going on. When you find yourself fighting with your friend about how to be friends with them, there's a problem. There are things since the new year that he hasn't shared with you, and he hasn't even told me the depths of it, but even so, it's not mine to share.

And now, I haven't seen him almost since this thing went down, and I suspect he's in a lot of trouble but I really don't know what's going on.

But since it could potentially affect me, and the return trip to the Inn, I need him to reach out and tell me what he's got going on. We're in this together, pal. Never forget that.

Meg/Tasha: Black Fridayed

Against all logic, I went out shopping on the weekend of Black Friday. I thought the insanity would be completely over with by Sunday, and sure nobody was exactly getting trampled, but it was still an uncomfortably large crowd of holiday shoppers. Don't people know you can do all your shopping online? Sheesh.

Okay, look who's talking, since I admit to knowing this and still can't resist a chance to hit the mall anyway. But really it's because it provides a nice neutral territory to hang out with Tyler away from our respective home lives. While everyone else was starting to do Christmas shopping, I was mainly after essentials: some beauty products, some cozy sweaters, socks and underwear... a few new bras. Tasha only had a few that I found really comfy and I wore those out but good over the summer. The rest of her supply just hasn't been working for me, and these girls need some support.

So imagine my surprise when, at Victoria's Secret, Tyler starts browsing the racks with what appears to be more than idle curiosity.

"Boy, what do you think you're getting up to?" I ask playfully.

"I'm looking for a Christmas gift for Lauren," he said, studying the selection furtively.

"Right," I rolled my eyes, "Look, if you want to say it's for you, I won't judge."

"No, I'm serious," he insisted, striking this petulant teenage posture, "I've been wearing her body for months now and it's decidedly... fuller than it used to be. I don't want her to feel like I've outgrown all her favourite underthings, because that might trigger some... bad habits, you know?"

"Hm," I said, "There's a certain logic to that."

"Damn right," he said, holding up a red and black skimpy panty set and matching lacy bra. "Should I try this on? Is that... how it works?"

I laughed, "Yes, hon, go try it on over your own underwear."

I walked him over to the change room and called through the door. "Be careful though... I don't mean to sound insensitive, but it might not fit after Lauren gets her--" I caught myself, even though there's not much reason to censor, "After Lauren gets back."

"I've been steady for the last month," he called back, "No major gains or losses... I feel pretty good about this. All it takes now is some discipline."

A moment later, I heard his voice, "Wanna see?"

"What? No, no, that's fine."

"Come on, I need your opinion on this!"

"Fine," I said. He let me in, and there in the little cubicle was this teenage girl dressed in very sexy underwear over her plain white panties. You could see the impression of where she was becoming quite the little bombshell.

I didn't know what to say, so I tried to shift my focus away from how Tyler looked and said "Lauren will probably love it... can you afford it?"

"Sure," he shrugged, slipping the extra layer off, "I've got a fair bit of money squirreled away. The Blanchards won't let me get a job but Sue's not above slipping me a little spending money. I'm just not a spender, is all." He winked.

I tried to look away as he slipped his jeans and top back on: I have already seen just about everything, but I felt I should limit my view as a gesture. "I don't get you, man. Sometimes you're the King of Cool about this, and sometimes you're Little Miss Mopey."

"Hey," he said sharply, "That's Mr. Mopey." Hence, he made sure I kept referring to him by masculine pronouns in this blog.

The stop in at VS was successful for him, not so much for me. So hard to find cute things in this size. Sigh.

We continued as we left the store, "I owe a lot of it to you," he said, "You've been here for me this entire time, and now we're nearing the... well, not the end, but the halfway. Maybe I'm a little prematurely excited. Sue me."

As Tyler gave me the rundown on his Thanksgiving (pretty much the same story as you guys got, with a few extra details,) we went to the food court. Tyler's kidding himself less lately about how much he can eat, but not by much: burgers and fries, but just in smaller sizes. The single burger instead of he triple. He says he gets up at 6 AM and goes running to keep it off. "Beats Lauren's tactic of starving herself."

I tell  him I admire his drive. It took me three months of passing the flyer tacked to the bulletin board at work to decide to sign up for a Yoga class. He scoffed, saying "Yoga's for--" although he stopped himself. I think he was going to say "chicks" but I think he's a little less free with dismissing things in that way lately.

I say he may doubt it, but it's been helpful for me. I don't need to lose much weight, or get stronger, but my back kills me after night after night of standing and walking around that bar, carrying these two huge pieces of luggage in front.

He smiled, "I'm just glad I'm not the one always talking about your boobs."

"These things are so inconvenient," I sighed, "If they were mine, I'd get them reduced, no question." I halfway expected some crude remark about what a loss that would be - Tyler's still a man inside, remember - but he nodded and said he sympathized, that going from a flat pectoral set to even a B-cup overnight changed his perspective: as nice as they look, they're less nice to have attached to you 24/7.

"Well, I'm glad you learned something!" I snickered. He punched my arm. We passed a lotion kiosk and I sampled something.

"Hey, let me try that," he said, getting a dab of cream on his wrists. He gave it a smell and closed his eyes and for a second he looked like he was in heaven.

"You like that?" I asked.

"It's sexy," he said appreciatively, "Reminds me of someone."

I didn't ask for elaboration.

Anyway, I went on to say, the yoga had become a sticking point between me and Wade, because he's noticed certain aspects of my routine that I've set up to minimize our time together. I had this nice little tapdance worked out so that we only hung out about once or twice a week for more than a passing moment awake. So Wade finds out about my twice-a-week activity (sometimes three times) and he says "Oh, you're going to yoga now? Another thing you can do without me?"

And I say "Well, would you want to go to yoga?"

And he says "It would be nice to be asked."

In the end, of course, he didn't, which is a minor relief, because here's the problem. My yoga instructor, Mykal, is, um... really cute. And fun to be around. And generally the kind of guy I would want to date, if I, you know had my own say in the matter.

And I have this really big problem where I get kind of flirty around him. I've been texting him a lot lately, and it hasn't gone unnoticed. It's probably going to lead to a blow-up somewhere down the line if I don't knock it off.

God, I'm a creep. I want it to work with Wade, and we were going good for a while, but damn we are just not clicking that way. He's not my boyfriend, he's someone else's and I'm just filling in. "But don't say I should dump him," I told Ty, "Because we've been over that and you know it's not that simple."

"Fine, I won't," he sighed, probably exhausted with my problems. By this point we were at a boutique and Ty was distracting himself by combing through sale racks. "I have no idea if any of these are any good. I'm never gonna feel like a real woman."

"Is that a bad thing?" I asked.

"It's a thing," he shrugged. I reminded him that having a uterus doesn't automatically give one an interest in fashion and cosmetics. Hell, it's only recently that I started trying, since my messy grad student look wasn't going to get me tips at the bar.

He abruptly moved the conversation back, "You're not thinking of cheating on Wade though, are you?"

"No, no," I insisted. "But you know how hard it is to just keep a man as a friend."

"I guess I do," he sighed. There was a knowing silence between us and then he added, "Besides, if you do cheat, it should be with me."

I rolled my eyes, "Oh yeah, I'm sure you'd rock my world."

"You bet yer butt," he said, lightly snapping a belt at me. I can't believe how bold he is sometimes.

Is it a front? I wonder. All he ever writes about is the crappy times, when he gets hit on by guys or has to navigate school and family politics, when he's on the verge of a meltdown and wishing he could just punch life in the face. Is that the real Tyler, or is it the funny, outgoing guy-in-a-girl's-body that I know? He could be both, of course. But in any case I'm proud to call him my friend.