I am an intelligent mare.

Oh dear, that may have come across slightly arrogant. By no means am I attempting to… well, the way Vinyl would say it is ‘big myself up’, but I’m not sure that is quite the way to put it. Perhaps I said it too bluntly.

I’ll start over.

My father always taught me that a lesson learned the hard way will stay with you forever. This is a belief he holds to heart, and that I, in turn, learned to take to heart. And for the most part, I do. If I make a mistake that has consequences of sufficient severity, the chances of my repeating said mistake are almost nil. Over time my life experiences, both good and bad, have blended together and shaped me into the mare I am today. And from these experiences I would say I have obtained a fair amount of wisdom.

There. That may be a much better way of saying it.

Now, this may be considered an unusual way to introduce oneself, but I’m sure you’ll understand in a moment. As I explained, my life experiences have lent me a decent amount of wisdom as I’ve grown into the mare I am.

So how is it that I can be so astronomically moronic whenever alcohol is involved?

I suppose this could be considered a somewhat common issue among many ponies. At night, the glossy veneer of the fun side of getting drunk obscures our common sense – which, to be fair, isn’t terribly common any more – and blinds us to the inevitable outcome that awaits us the following morning. I of course refer to hangovers. But, to be fair, I suppose we get too caught up in the moment to care about what the future holds. One of the benefits of being fairly young, that. I’ll say ‘carpe diem’ before I drink, and then Vinyl comes along and says…

Urgh, I can barely bring myself to say it.

‘YOLO’.

To be frank, they mean the exact same thing, but after hearing pouting young mares saying it as they take ‘selfies’ whilst pulling those ridiculous duckfaces… I think I’m justified in preferring the more cultured equivalent. Maybe it’s my upbringing. I certainly get some odd looks from time to time, but then again a Trottingham accent isn’t very common in Ponyville. It makes people amazed when they find out me and Vinyl are dating.

Am I rambling? I do that sometimes. I suppose you’re here to hear something a bit more interesting than my opinions on the youth of today.

Firstly, yes, me and Vinyl Scratch are dating. That’s the same Vinyl Scratch who regularly DJ’s at Club Zero in Ponyville, the same Vinyl Scratch who has several of the all time best selling dubstep records in Equestria, and also the very same Vinyl Scratch who was arrested three years ago for aggravated assault on that other DJ… I always forget his name. Neon something or other. He provoked her and the charges on her were dropped soon after.

Yes, that’s her. And she’s dating me, who has an Honours Degree in Musical Theory – Classical, of course – from West Manehatten University, and is first chair cellist for the Royal Canterlot Symphony Orchestra. Now, you would not be the first pony to think it if you said that we appeared to be a mismatched pair. In this case, ‘opposites attract’ would be a very appropriate expression.

Secondly, I will say the night leading up to this particular series of events is one big blur to me. The last thing I recall is sitting at the bar, marvelling at how much I enjoyed the taste of scotch. Beyond that, I have no recollection of anything up to the point where I begin this story, which is my awakening the following morning.

If I think back to high school, I can recall my Classical Civilisation studies, where we read about a fellow named Hoofrodotus, who wrote a fascinating recount of three hundred soldiers facing off against an army of hundreds of thousands. Specifically a passage regarding that the earth beneath them trembled at the sheer mass of hooves walking towards them. That was my first thought as I awoke that morning, as it felt like every single one of the hundreds of thousands of ponies that made up that invading Fursian army were all walking through my head. Simultaneously.

That was my first conscious thought, as well as my scratchy throat that felt like the Saddle Arabian desert, dry but also tainted with the constant after taste of bile.

Oh. Wonderful.

Then I suddenly became aware of another sensation. A blissful warmth. Though making no effort to make its presence stronger than the more painful sensations dancing around my head, it was most definitely there. And I opened my bleary eyes, blinking a few times to adjust to the light shining through the gaps in the curtains, to a very surprising sight.

It’s important you know that while Vinyl is a very caring marefriend, she isn’t hugely affectionate. I mean, we do cuddle up on the sofa and in bed, but I’m always the one cuddling up to her. She prefers to wear the trousers, as my friend Lyra would say. She’ll always wrap an comforting hoof around me, but that’s the extent of it. So I was very surprised to find myself laid on the sofa, resting my head on Vinyl’s chest, with her having both hooves wrapped around me like an oversized stuffed toy. What’s more astonishing is the look on her face; she’s asleep, but she’s wearing a small but contented smile.

Normally I wake up to find that she’s rolled over in the night and dragged half the duvet across with her. A quick glance down to my lower half reveals that she’s brought the duvet downstairs with her, choosing to snuggle up on the sofa with me when there’s a perfectly large double bed upstairs. She’s more than aware of that; she takes up most of it normally.

Then I noticed something particularly unusual. Sat on the coffee table is my photo album. The old brown leather one with pink stitching, a book I’ve had in my possession almost all my life. Two decades of the history of my life, folded up within the tarnished pages. Vinyl must have brought it down at some point in the night, to look through while I was sleeping. Now I was getting very confused, so I lifted my head up higher to get a better look, to see if my eyes were playing tricks with me.

Big mistake.

A wave of pain surged through my head, and before I could stop myself, a low moan escaped my lips. My throat burned from the exertion, and Vinyl’s eyes shot straight open.

It is immediately clear that she had nowhere near as much to drink last night as me. She doesn’t like to admit this, but I seem to hold my drink better than she does. Even so, here I was feeling like absolute death, and she just smiles at me without a care in the world.

“Mornin', beautiful,” she said with mixture of cheer and affection that seems so out of character for her. “Rough night?”

“You’re more than welcome to speculate,” I said as clearly as possible, but it barely came out louder than a rasp.

She simply chuckled, kissed me on the forehead, and eased herself out from underneath me. After a quick stretch, she trotted off towards the kitchen, humming happily to herself and leaving me totally bewildered. Vinyl’s morning routine has never been any more graceful than me shaking her awake, and normally receiving some groans and the odd moment of flatulence in return before she’ll finally tear herself away from the bed. And that’s after a sober night, too.

I slowly haul myself up into a sitting position, the thin strip of daylight shining through the curtains feeling absolutely blinding to me. After a few moments to gather myself, two things occur to me. Firstly, I hadn’t imagined it. It is my photo album sat on the coffee table. And secondly, Vinyl had addressed me as ‘Beautiful’.

Vinyl.

Addressing me.

As ‘Beautiful’.

This is a mare who has, until this point, never referred to me in a romantic sense as anything sweeter than ‘Babe’. I was never fond of pet names along those lines, but that’s been a constant for most of my life. ‘Tavi’ is a common nickname for me, and it’s one that I hated during its inception period when I was at boarding school. It’s grown on me over the years, but until fairly recently, I preferred to be referred to by my proper first name. Then Vinyl came along, and suddenly ‘Tavi’ became one that felt quite sweet. ‘Octy’ was one that started around high school for me, and whilst my aversion to it wasn’t terribly strong, it also grew on me. Again, when Vinyl came along and started using it, it became more than bearable. So don’t get me wrong, I’m used to nicknames, but ‘Beautiful’? That caught me with one hoof off the merry-go-round, I can tell you.

“You want some aspirin?” she called from the kitchen.

“Please,” I called back, immediately regretting it as the pain echoed through my skull again. The exertion caused my throat to burn again, as if it was all one long pain running through my head and neck down into my chest, where my stomach was now beginning to feel uneasy.

Actually, scratch that. ‘Uneasy’ doesn’t quite justify the intensity of the wave of nausea that suddenly washed over me, without any warning. After breathing heavily for a few seconds, I managed to catch on to what was coming, shot up onto my hooves and ran to our downstairs bathroom as quickly as I was capable of in my condition. Luckily, I arrived without a moment to spare, and proceeded to violently empty my stomach contents into our toilet.

I believe I have already pointed out how unbelievably dim-witted I can become whenever I drink, so the fact that within minutes of waking up, I was throwing up profusely, can only serve as an irritating reminder of this fact. After a few moments hunched over the basin, making sure I’d got as much up as I could, I felt Vinyl wrap her foreleg around me, and gently start to nuzzle the back of my head. I hadn’t even heard her walk in.

“Got it all up?” she asked amiably.

“Just…” I stopped midway through my raspy sentence as a tickle washed over my throat, causing me to erupt in a brief coughing fit. “…About,” I gasped.

She kissed the back of my head, before letting go of me and walking out of the cramped toilet. She returned a few moments later, carrying some pills and a glass. I put the toilet lid down and sat on it, as she passed me the pills and filled the glass up from the sink.

“What happened last night?” I asked as I swallowed the pills and took the glass from her, chugging it all down in two large gulps.

“I’m not surprised you don’t remember,” she said with a small chuckle. “It’s gotta be the worst I’ve ever seen you, Tavi. Seven scotches on top of everything else, I’m amazed you didn’t drink yourself into the ground.”

“Bugger me,” I gasped. “Did you say seven scotches?”

She simply nodded in return.

“So what happened then?”

“Well, we got to Club Zero, and then…”

“No, no,” I said dismissively, cutting her off mid-sentence. “What happened?”

“Whadda ya mean, Octy?” she replied, her eyes shifting slightly in worry.

I’ve been dating her for long enough to know when she’s hiding something. Even without the more unusual occurrences that I’d noticed this morning, I could have seen it.

“I think you know exactly what I mean,” I said, still a bit raspy from the soreness in my throat. “My photo album on the coffee table, the kissing and snuggling, the fact you called me ‘beautiful’ earlier. What’s going on?”

“What, you don’t think you’re beautiful?” she asked defensively, clearly starting to feel uncomfortable. She always tries the guilt trip.

“Please don’t try and turn this around, Vinyl. I have a monstrous hangover, and I would appreciate you sparing the bullshit,” I said, unwillingly cursing to emphasise that this wasn’t a good morning to mess me around. She knows I only swear when I’m drunk, or when I’m in a foul mood, and the effect was immediate.

“Look,” she said, her ears drooping. “Something did happen last night, but…”

“But what?” I asked.

“Just… ugh, look, it’s complicated. And I’d much rather talk to you about it when you’re not hung over.”

Blimey, she sounded inexplicably serious there. Reading between the lines, I instantly knew from the look on her face that she was really playing the whole thing down when she said ‘complicated’. She seemed completely unable to bring her eyes up to meet mine, a sure sign that something was very, very wrong.

And I panicked.

“I need some air,” I said firmly, standing up and shakily making my way towards the front door. Giving a cursory glance back as I walked outside, I noticed Vinyl stood absolutely still, leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom door, head drooped down.

It may sound clichéd, saying that two ponies who have been together long enough can read each other like a book, but it’s only clichéd because it’s true. Spend enough time with somepony and you’ll find out quite a lot about them. In this case, I knew that Vinyl wasn’t chasing after me because she knew that I needed my space right now. The morning air felt refreshing, but this was trivial given my pounding headache and aching stomach.

Thinking about it, it was truly surprising how quickly the next few hours passed by. It turns out it was just after lunchtime when I woke up, so I went along to my favourite café near the centre of town. Ponyville really is a marvellous little community, where you can sit outside and relax in the tranquillity of small town life, as opposed to the hustle and bustle you may receive in larger cities like Canterlot. I basked in the warm afternoon sunlight as the summer breeze washed over me, sipping orange juice as the pills I had taken earlier slowly began to take effect. And the time simply disappeared.

I moved onto tea as my head felt less heavy, and later on, when my stomach settled, I ordered some dandelion sandwiches. Our fridge at home is always well stocked, so I rarely get anything too heavy whenever I eat out. Several friends stopped by over the course of the day, for quick chats as they went about their business. Lyra happily explained how she would be judging at the Ponyville Swim Meet in a couple of weeks, and shortly after that, Rarity joined me to tell me about the costumes she’d designed for Sapphire Shores. Princess Twilight stopped by briefly as well, tailed by those sweet Cutie Mark Crusader fillies that always get up to some kind of mischief around town. I was happy for the distractions, but of course, my mind was otherwise occupied.

Moments like earlier, where I panic and need to be alone, are few and far between for me. But the time to myself was a mixed blessing. While I could recover in relative peace and quiet, the moments of solitude were spent filling my head with possible theories about last night. Had Vinyl met another mare? Were the kind acts some way to make up for something? Was she acting out of guilt?

But every theory I could come up with fell to pieces when I thought about the photo album. Why did she bring it down? I couldn't come up with a single logical theory. There were pictures of us together in it, but not that many. It was mostly pictures from my childhood. There were plenty of albums in our room, ones that were full of pictures of the two of us. that she could have taken, but she chose mine instead. Why?

By the time I asked for the bill, I’d been here for nearly five hours. I’d been asking for regular refills the whole time, and I’d probably drunk ten times more tea than I do on a weekly basis. So it wasn’t hugely surprising when the bill amounted to nearly forty bits. A quick pat down revealed that I had forgotten to bring any money.

“Shit,” I gasped, much louder than I intended to.

“A bit short?” asked a familiar voice behind me. I immediately tensed up as a purse hit the table in front of me. My purse.

“Thank you, Vinyl,” I said quietly. “How did you find me?”

“Well, you’ve been gone long enough,” she replied, taking the seat opposite me. She still couldn’t look me in the eye. “I know this is your favourite place to wind down, and once I’d given you a few hours, I noticed you’d forgotten your purse. You never come by here without having at least a cup of tea, so it wasn’t hard to put one and two together. Feeling better?”

“Slightly,” I said as I dug the coins out from their respective pocket. “The headache’s worn off, and my tummy seems to have settled for now. But I gather that’s not exactly the question you’re asking.”

“Well, yes and no,” Vinyl said as I dropped forty three bits onto the small plastic tray the bill had came with, tipping as I normally do. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, but I’d rather you weren’t in a bad mood when I talk to you about last night.”

“We don’t always get what we want, Vinyl,” I said matter-of-factly as I stood up, taking my purse with me. “Come on, you can explain everything on the way home.”

My tone of voice when I said ‘explain everything’ made it clear that I wasn't likely to give Vinyl any choice in the matter.

Now, please don’t look at this situation and think that we’re an unhappy couple. The truth could not be more contrary to whatever evidence would suggest this, but we do have our fights. Every couple has a fight now and then, and it can be oddly therapeutic. Vinyl is a difficult mare to live with, and when we do fight, I find myself venting a lot of pent-up stress. Vinyl cares for me dearly, and assumes a more timid role in these disputes, my guess being that she thinks she’s crossed a line, and doesn’t want to do anything to push me further over the edge. She’s really quite sweet when you scratch away at the surface.

“So,” I said, breaking the tense silence as the town square faded into the distance behind us. “Start explaining.”

“Well, you were pretty wasted. I mean, way worse than I’ve ever seen you before.”

“I felt like it this morning.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” she says, chuckling slightly. “I carried you home last night.”

My natural instinct is to start apologising for causing her such an inconvenience, but she continues before I get the chance.

“So while I was carrying you back, you mistook a garbage can for a mare, told an extremely offensive joke and threw up on me.”

“What offensive joke?” I asked, trying not to dwell on the other things.

She paused briefly. “I’ll tell you another time. So then, I made this offhoof comment, saying that telling that joke was about as mature as a prepubescent colt, and you said…” She stopped mid-sentence, looking around; seeing if we were alone.

One thought enters my mind. I couldn’t have said that. At least, I sincerely hoped I hadn’t.

“And you said you used to be one.”

Fuck. I did say it.

Right, it’s official. I am never drinking again. I know most people say that just to relieve the monotony of hangover pain, but I mean it one hundred percent. Alcohol made me indifferently blurt out the biggest secret of my life, as if all the suffering I went through meant absolutely nothing. Tartaurus in Equestria in boarding school, endless ridicule from high school to high school, and now that I’ve found somepony who makes all the hardships worthwhile, I blow the whole thing to smithereens.

“Is it true?” she asked, but the way she asked it told me she already knew the answer. The very act of asking was just a formality.

“It’s true.”

We walked in silence for a few moments. I struggled to compose myself, and asked the question balancing on my tongue.

“Do you want to break it off, then?”

She stops walking, and shoots me a look of confusion. “Break what off?”

“It. Us,” I said. “Do you want to break up with me?”

“Why the hay would I want to do that?” she asked. The fact she’s asking it is a relief, but the tone of accusation in her voice is very disconcerting.

“Because of what I am,” I said, ashamed to have kept her in the dark for so long. I began to picture all the good times we’ve spent together up to now, and think of how they’ll soon be nothing but memories. How our love will fall apart to something unsalvageable. I was scared for my future, as I was certain I’d finally found somepony I wanted to share with it.

I was so deep in thought that it caught me completely off guard when Vinyl strode up to me and pulled me in for a kiss.

Every fear disappeared in an instant as we stood still, lips locked together in a tender embrace that I wanted to go on forever. My stomach became alive with butterflies and my legs became weak. Ecstasy danced throughout my body like the ponies always dance in the clubs whenever Vinyl hits the decks. My brain became overloaded as a number of sensations combined to fuel an intense adrenaline rush; the taste of Vinyl’s mouth pressed against mine, the smell of her sweat in the late afternoon sun, and the feeling of her forelegs wrapped tightly around me, holding me close as if her very life depended on it.

It may just have been the best kiss of my life.

She finally pulled her head back, and looked me right in the eyes. She didn’t dare let go of me, but I didn’t struggle. I always feel safe with her forelegs wrapped around me. Her horn ignited and lifted her glasses off her head, so she could look me right in the eyes, and vice versa.

“I love you,” she said, speaking slowly and clearly. “I love you so much, but not because of what you are. I love you for who you are. I love the beautiful, caring, and all-round awesome mare you are. And I don’t care who or what you used to be, and I don’t want you to delude yourself into thinking that anything could ever cause me to love you any less than I do. I love you, Octavia. So, so much.”

I began to well up as she spoke, and I gazed into her deep red eyes. They’re strong and striking eyes that can stare at a computer screen for hours upon end as she creates her remixes, but also sweet and sensitive enough to comfort me when I’m feeling down.

“Vinyl, I…”

She simply hushes me, gently covering my mouth with her hoof.

“I don’t need to know everything right now,” she explains. “You can tell me as much or as little as you feel you need to, whenever you want. Some of it may be difficult for me to hear, which I’m prepared for, but I want you to know that I’ll always be here for you.”

The tears begin to flow freely now. I had been preparing for the worst, but of all ponies, Vinyl Scratch just proved herself to be the best mare I could possibly have ended up with. She pulled me in for a hug, and now it was my turn to cuddle up to her. The warmth of her body against mine was such a wonderful sensation, one I wanted to feel for the rest of my life.

“I gotta say, it’s a bit weird though,” she said.

“What’s that?”

“Going through all that, and you end up dating mares anyway.”

Typical Vinyl. She’s joking of course, and though I should by all rights be offended, I find myself giggling slightly. If humour helps her come to terms with everything, so be it.

“Sexual preference and gender identity aren’t synonymous,” I explained.

“Now you’re starting to sound like my old Octy,” she replied.

I laughed again. Granted, two mares randomly hugging each other in the middle of town may have been an odd sight, and I did catch a few ponies shooting us the occasional stare, but frankly I couldn’t care less. I was overjoyed with Vinyl’s reaction to a secret that has plagued me for years, and for the time being, nothing else mattered.

“Just one more thing I need to know, though,” she says, breaking the blissful silence.

“What?”

“Why exactly didn’t you tell me this before now?”

Crap. Somewhere nearby is a fan about to be hit by something unpleasant.

“My father always encouraged me to keep it completely secret.”

As much as I’d rather continue our embrace, Vinyl pushed me away, but only so she could hold me close and look at me in confusion.

“What do you mean?” she asked. Her face said confusion, but her eyes said differently.

“Well, father always taught me never to tell anypony about it. He said that ponies would treat me as some kind of freak if I told them.”

I can see what’s in her eyes now: anger. But I continued.

“I mean, he was the one who arranged for the treatment, the surgery, everything. But looking back, I think he was always reluctant to do so. I can’t say I ever felt like he truly accepted me as a daughter. Mother seemed perfectly happy, but father would always be more concerned about me tarnishing the family name.”

As the last sentence escaped my lips, it was as if a flick had been switched on inside Vinyl. One moment she was there, and the next she was off, charging down the road towards our house. I ran after her, the image of her eyes still fresh in my mind. Red; beautiful and striking, but above everything else, they were absolutely furious.

Yep. The shit just hit the fan.

“Vinyl, wait!” I called after her, but to no avail. By the time I turned the corner onto our road, she had already disappeared into our house.

She’s never met my parents. I kept putting it off, desperately trying to avoid the encounter. See, my mother and father are very traditional Trottingham ponies, and our family is one of the most well known and respected in the state. I certainly wasn’t looking forward to telling Vinyl the story that father had used to cover up my transition. That would be like adding fuel to the fire. Along with a few tonnes of dynamite…

I arrived at our door, still ajar after Vinyl had presumably burst through it. I could still see my photo album on the coffee table in the living room, but I ignored it. Vinyl was sat at the table in the kitchen, so I slowly walked towards her.

Walking through the hallway, I caught a quick look at myself in the bathroom mirror. I looked absolutely dreadful, with blood-shot eyes and a terribly bedraggled mane. Everypony I’d spoken to today must have just been too polite to say anything.

As I approached the kitchen, I noticed that she’d set the table before she left, using our finest plates and silverware. Freshly picked roses sat in my favourite vase in the middle of the table, and she’d got out the candles she’d bought me for Hearts and Hooves day. I could smell casserole, my favourite meal, sat in the oven on a low heat to keep it warm.

And then I noticed something else. Vinyl has laid out a quill and a roll of parchment on the table. The sweetness of the dinner gesture makes me feel slightly weak at the knees, but the parchment confuses me slightly. Vinyl glared at me, hooves crossed like a filly throwing a tantrum.

“What’s this all about?” I asked, gesturing to the parchment.

“I think you should write a letter,” she says. Her voice is dripping with venom, but I can tell that none of it is aimed at me.

“What am I writing, exactly?”

“A message for your parents,” she says matter-of-factly. “I may not have met them yet, but I think it’s about damn time I did.”