Confessions of a part-time girl

Lauren
6:33 p.m. -- 2008-06-30

I'm trying to go in something like chronological order here, although from time to time I feel the need to add some exposition that isn't necessarily a part of my own story... or I remember something that I left out. For now, we're back in sequence, and it's January 1999...

My flatmate got a job offer that meant he'd be moving away. I was just coming to the end of a contract myself, so I took the path of least resistance, and moved back in with my parents. By that time, I hadn't cross-dressed for many months. I'd struggle to say exactly why, other than that I'd learned (the hard way) that the cost of my transvestism was too high.

With no need to get dressed up, moving back to mum and dad's place wasn't a great hardship. After a little weeding-out of things that didn't suit me, or didn't fit me, I was left with one cardboard box, containing everything my feminine alter-ego owned.

Funny, that... if you think about it. Although I hadn't 'needed' it in months, I didn't throw it all away. I carefully sorted through everything - I remember holding a bra in place, over my teeshirt, to see if it fitted me... but not cross-dressing as such. The box was carefully secured with tape, and loaded into a van with everything else. Back home, it went under my bed. It stayed there for the rest of the year, undisturbed.

In the autumn, I changed jobs and moved to a new town. Almost immediately, I met Lauren. She was a secretary at my new place of work. She used to contrive excuses to have me stop by her office, and I used to do the same. I hadn't been in a relationship for ages, and I was more than a little tempted by this slim, dark-haired girl.

Lauren was great in many ways, but she wasn't perfect. (Who is?) Perhaps her worst vice was a tendency towards vicious mood swings. There were one or two other issues that made her hard to love... but mostly the mood swings. To be invited round for dinner and then find that you're not welcome, an hour later... that was confusing!

Lauren had an incredible body. She spent a lot of time at the gym, and when she was in the mood, she could be very sexy and sexual. There were a number of things she was curious about, or actively interested in. (How many girls do you know who own handcuffs? And I don't mean the fur-lined toy ones that don't need a key.) My kind of girl! When she said she felt that she was a little bit bisexual, my tranny-senses were tingling: was this the girl with whom I would, finally, be able to have a sexual encounter while cross-dressed?

Although I hadn't acted on any tranny urges for well over than a year, I remember thinking that. Clearly, I wasn't cured of my need to wear the clothes of the opposite sex; I just hadn't succumbed for a while.

Lauren could be really adversarial. I applied the 'mum' test: was this somebody I wanted to take home and introduce to my mother? And for me, was she worth spending time with, long-term?

On the 'plus' side was her kinky, broadminded attitude to sex. And a number of other sexual attributes, such as a remarkably firm little bottom. Wow. On the 'minus' side were the dangers of getting too close to a co-worker, the mood-swings, and some issues of her own that I won't list here. (This diary is about my failings and foibles, not hers.)

Weighing it all up, one evening, when a sudden mood-swing meant that I'd be walking home rather than being invited to share her bed (although we had slept together before) I decided that I couldn't bear to get any closer to this mercurial girl. I ended it then and there.

In some ways, it was a victory, and it set me on the road to greater victories. I had made a decision as a whole person, not as a lust-stupefied tranny. Finding myself in a relationship that was more complicated than it ought to be, I had decided to leave, and I did so cleanly - before handing my ex-lover a great way to hurt or blackmail me.

The old 'me' had such low self-esteem that any girl who condescended to be mine would have been hard to leave. For some reason, the new 'me' was more sensible and more empowered... and I hadn't allowed the tranny side of my personality to fuck things up, despite the temptation. It might not sound like something to celebrate, to have fallen for a person with a mean streak, and then to have escaped... but it was significant for me, and it paved the way to better things.

Despite the fact that within a month, I'd have opened that cardboard box.

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