Telling Secrets

Apparently I have followers now. I wasn't expecting that, I kind of figured I'd tell Sam's story in silence. I mean, he definitely deserves to have people reading this. Poor guy deserves to have everyone in the world remember him. He was an amazing man. So, welcome, I suppose.

Secondly, in the spirit of this post, I'd like to draw all of your attention to this. Both because it's important /and/ because it's a story that hits close to home for me-as you're all about to find out. I actually went into a book store and dealt with the glares while I read the entire article-I was so shocked, and thrilled, and... Well, I guess I have a bit of a new hero. She's got guts.

The story I want to tell, as I said, is related to that. The next big landmark between us happened one night sitting around chatting on a rooftop, as had quickly become our habit. He always preferred being up high, and as I had no objection, that became our standard.

For the life of me I can't remember what we were talking about. Something random, probably pointless except for entertaining us for a little while. But we'd ended up sitting close together and leaning in talking about it... and next thing I knew, we were kissing.

It was cheesy, cliched, and so stereotypically Hollywood. Or at least it would've been, if it weren't two dirty, unkempt homeless 'men'. The kiss was sweet and loving and so very, very eager on both sides. But I pulled away. Because I wasn't being honest with him.

"Sam, there's something you should know."

He flinched, thinking that I hadn't wanted the kiss. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that."

I shook my head. "No, I wanted it. But. I'm not quite what you think I am..." At Sam's look of confusion, I continued. "I'm not exactly a man..."

"What do you mean?"

"Have you ever heard the term 'genderfluid'?"

"No..."

"Sometimes, I am a man. Sometimes, I am a woman. But, biologically, I'm female, and I know that's not what you're into."

It took him a minute to process. "So. What were you when we kissed? A man, or a woman? Because. That's all that really matters. Biology's not important."

I couldn't look him in the eye. "I was a woman. I /am/ a woman tonight."

"... We can stay friends, right?" He looked about as heartbroken as I felt.

I attempted a smile, for his sake. "Of course."

"... What should I call you? When you're a woman, I mean."

I paused, uncertain. "Lily. My dad named me Lily."

"Well, then, Lily. You'll always be my friend. Man or woman."

After that, he offered to help me steal some clothes so that I could be a girl when we were alone and the mood struck me, but I knew it wasn't safe. A woman on the street is at risk of a whole category of things that a man never has to worry about. That's why I stay a man, these days. At least outwardly. I don't have enough curves for anyone to be able to tell what's underneath.

He tried to give me the clothes anyway, because that's just how sweet he really was. He was so sad for me, that I couldn't be who I want to be.

Things were awkward for a few days, but we really only had each other, so we got over it quick. A failed romance was far less important than having someone we could count on.