Bustin' out of the closet

I've been duped! My friends knew that half priced martinis would make me spill! How could they?

OK, maybe not. Maybe I just was sick of not talking. Maybe six months of thinking and wishing and hoping and praying can be hard to keep shut inside. Maybe two sips of a gimlet shouldn't be considered minipulation.

So what happened? Yesterday evening two of my girlfriends met me for some post-work drinks. As we typically do, we started our outing by going around the table and updating the gang on our life's dramas of work, men, etc. I began. And without any prompting, I was suddenly spilling. Everything. From TTC to bloodword to the finer details of a PCOS diagnosis. Poor gals didn't know what hit 'em.

I obviously hadn't been planning on telling anyone. A few friends knew we were thinking of starting a family sooner than later, but nothing more. I had leaked minute details about the testing and problems we were running into to two people, only because both of them had been there and were able to offer insight. This waterfall of information was so not on the schedule.

I'm ridiculously releaved, though. They couldn't have been more supportive. But I certianly don't plan on making this a staple happy hour conversation. Heck, I hope I won't have many more happy hours in my future. But oh, how I will miss those gimlets...