Five years ago, in my 32nd year of life, my boring yet somehow frantic life was altered suddenly by a crime committed against me by someone I was trying to evict from my life.
I didn’t care if John was filling in his beard with eyeshadow and he encouraged me to give in to my love of bright colors and hotpants on a Sunday and tight-fitting silhouettes.
I didn’t care if you hadn’t transitioned yet. I fell in love with your mind, with your way of being, with your entire self.
Sometimes, it’s better to not ask.