Cosmic Retribution A Sissys Story

My name is (well, was) Eric, and I was 22 at the time our story begins, having just graduated from a big public university in California with a degree in journalism, fancying myself then an artist, a writer and a rakish ladies man.

I met Abby during a gathering at a friend's house - we both moved in the same loose circle of guys and girls who knew each other in one way or another from my school; she was 24 or 25 years old, had graduated a couple years before me. She caught my attention immediately at that get-together: Cute and slim, with long, straight hair, a brunette. I struck up a conversation and tried to dazzle her with my flirty banter but she parried it with ease. For all my self-confidence I was left bashful and awkward in her presence.

If you had met the two of us at the party that night you might have concluded that I was out of my league. She was pretty, smart and ambitious, already working at a good job with benefits just a couple years out of school. I was working as a barista while I tried to get a writing career going, still living at home with my mom. And even my mom was eager for me to move out.

I thought I was good-looking in a sort of bohemian way: Pale and skinny, with long, unruly hair and some patchy stubble I called a beard. No one would ever mistake me for a bodybuilder, or even an athlete, but some girls thought I was cute and I could sometimes impress them with my sense of humor, writing and art. I played the guitar and wrote songs and had been briefly in a band, which women seemed to like. Abby told me when we first started talking that I was funny and interesting in an "alternative" kinda way that she preferred to jocks and frat boys.

I got her number and we texted for a week or so before I asked her out on an actual date. I planned our night out to end with a romantic walk by the water but for some reason I was too nervous to put a move on Abby, she had to lean in first for a kiss. She told me later she thought that was sweet.

Soon we were a couple. Because I lived with my mom, we spent most of our time at the apartment Abby shared with another girl. We didn't have a lot of extra money, Abby made a lot more than I did, but we didn't mind staying in to watch a show or read and even managed to go out sometimes, for dinner or even a concert.

We had a great sex life in those early days, when Abby's roommate, McKenzie, wasn't there or sometimes even when she was in the other room, we'd try to be quiet but ended up laughing, knowing she could probably hear us. I'm not very well-endowed, if you know what I mean, but Abby didn't seem to mind that much and I worked hard to pleasure her. Life was good. I had never even heard of something called a "male chastity device."

I've tried to think back to the beginning of my relationship with Abby for clues of what the future held for me, hints that I obviously missed. She certainly took the lead in our relationship. She was older and more responsible, of course, but more than that she was assertive. Decisive. Sure of herself. I thought I was pretty smart but she was quick-witted, always a step ahead of me. We rarely had serious fights because I typically backed down before our disagreements got that far, I learned pretty quickly not to challenge her.

Another glaring sign I guess I foolishly overlooked was that Abby would occasionally, not often but sometimes, call me "pretty," which of course embarrassed me. And once when I shaved my straggly mess of a beard and combed my long hair properly for my cousin's wedding, she laughed and told me I looked like a girl. But those were just throwaway comments, right?

Anyway, we had been together for about a year and seeing each other almost every day when Abby's roommate, McKenzie made plans to move out. I immediately, and in retrospect stupidly, thought it would be a grand idea to move right in. Abby and I were already exclusive with each other and it would get me out of the house, where my mom and I weren't getting along very well.

Abby wasn't so sure. She thought it was a little soon in the relationship for us to be playing house and worried that I wouldn't be able to afford my half of the rent on barista pay. On paper she was right, I barely made enough to cover my share plus student loan payments and the rest of my bills, even if I bought almost nothing else each month. But I told her that I would take extra shifts at the coffee shop and try to sell some freelance articles, even get a second job if money got too tight. Ultimately she agreed.

I didn't have much furniture at my mom's aside from a bedside table and a dresser, but it didn't matter because the apartment was mostly furnished already. We bought a couch to replace the one Mackenzie took when she moved out, although Abby had to pay it since I needed all the money I had saved for a security deposit and first month's rent. I told her I would make it up to her someday. In retrospect, moving in with Abby was my first major mistake, the first link in a chain of events that would lead me down a strange and terrible path to where I am today.

At first though, things went pretty well. It was a relief to be out of my mom's house and I felt like an adult for the first time. Sharing a place with Abby seemed to make our relationship more legitimate, somehow. We redecorated the apartment in our own style (well, really Abby's style, I didn't know what I was doing and was broke anyway).

Once we had the apartment looking nice and homey we threw a housewarming party for our good friends and invited a few of the neighbors. That's when we met Anders, who lived a few doors down and whose life would soon become intertwined with ours in ways that we could not have imagined. That was another turning point, looking back. Another link in the chain.

Getting back to the story, to tell things in their proper order, Abby and I didn't live together very long before the arrangement started straining our relationship, in the usual ways in which co-habitating can drive a wedge between a couple.

First, there were finances, of course. Despite what I had told Abby, The truth was that I couldn't really afford to pay my half of the rent. Going out to eat or for drinks even once a week, or buying even small discretionary things, was going to leave me short, but I did it anyway because otherwise Abby would have to pay or everything, and I'd have to admit that I was completely broke and had not been totally honest when I proposed moving in.

Seeing the writing on the wall, I tried to make extra money. I asked for extra shifts at work and got a few, but not nearly enough. I tried to get some freelance writing work as I'd told Abby I would, but with little professional experience I wasn't getting many offers. The few editors who even responded to me offered almost no money, at this stage of my career I was supposed to be doing it mostly for the experience.

Then, before even the second month's rent was due, my old Hyundai broke down, ultimately costing me hundreds of dollars to fix and forcing me to miss two days of work, which only irritated my boss since I had just asked for extra shifts.

Obviously, the last thing I wanted to do was ask Abby for help covering my half of the rent but I could see no other choice. Even skipping that month's student loan payment I was well short. I swore I'd pay her back quickly and she seemed to take it pretty well, but I could feel her disappointment in me. The expression on her face said: "What have I gotten myself into?"

Abby was right to worry. I was already in the hole for the third month's rent, needing to make up for the car repairs and owing her money on top of rent, and owing a double payment on my student loan. I had no choice but to sell my car.

(To be continued)