The roads are always icy and bad during the winter in Minnesota, but as our date fell on the day following a week-long snow storm, we both agreed to let each other know when we were home safe. After quick messages of “Home safe” and “I had a great time,” I realized it was well past midnight and I should probably at least pretend I was tired.
Saturday was interesting, I was still riding the high from out amazing date but I was contemplative. I needed to tell her, but I couldn’t figure out how.
Sunday is cleaning day. I spent the whole day thinking, processing, and cleaning my apartment. I called and Skyped my friends. I talked it out. I wrote, rewrote, and deleted drafts upon drafts of text messages telling Steph about being trans. Meanwhile, Steph and I were texting semi-frequently, though I was noticeably more distant than I had been the past week.
It was never a question of not being comfortable with who I am, what I’ve gone through, or what it would mean to be a trans man in a relationship with a cis-woman. I wasn’t even scared of rejection as a whole. I just didn’t want to be rejected by THIS woman, because I had such a strong connection to her in such a short time. Basically, I didn’t want my fear that it was all too good to be true to be a reality.
So in the midst of trying to plan a date for the following day (Monday) this happened:
And then we had a weird and awkward and interesting conversation that was both about our date and about to logistics of me being trans, what that means to me, what that would mean for her, etc.
The whole conversation lasted a few hours. I was as open as possible and she asked whatever questions came to mind. I knew that I had to provide her with bare honesty, and I wanted to, too. I wanted to share with her because I felt like she would understand.
I met her for pizza and a comedy show the next day after work. It was another incredible date. We kept talking, and even when everything seemed to be coming to a close we weren’t ready to be done in each other’s company, so I invited her over.
Now, don’t get ahead of yourself… I just wanted to keep talking with her. I wanted to soak her up. I was on the edge of my seat waiting for the words to fall from her lips. I was hungry for her in the purest of ways. I wanted to hold her, protect her, watch her grow, watch her leave me and come back to me; I just wanted to be around her.
She followed me home and we talked into the night and cuddled before falling asleep together.
We planned the third date for Wednesday. Dinner and drinks back at my apartment.
This whole time she was asking me about my past and I was asking her about her past. The fact that I am trans was just another thing to discuss, but it was never the thing to discuss. She was curious about my background and history just as much as I was curious about hers. We both brought up our struggles and our pains. We brought up our passions and our personal victories. We shared so much of ourselves with each other from the start. We embraced each other’s souls with laughter and compassion.
I asked her to be my girlfriend that night. She said yes and it’s been the most amazing adventure of my life.
And that’s how I met my Steph, how I told her I was trans with a text message, and how we started falling in love.