When you first tutored me in French, I had no idea that a year later, you’d be whispering the same language in my ear while rendezvousing over coffee and pastries. I wouldn’t have believed you. We were best friends. Most importantly, you were a woman, and I, according to you, am “too straight to function.”
Being with you made me realize so many things about myself. You challenged me, and in ways I didn’t think possible. You were beyond passionate, and that passion drove my rational mind insane. It lit up my world. I was the most independent person, but with you, I could embark on a journey.
I realized your female body was only superficial. You’re an incredible man. Out of all the college men I’ve met, you are by far the most gentlemanly. Somewhere along the line, I fell in love with you because of that, and for so much more.
We were different, but we worked. It was a different chemistry, and I liked it. I wanted to kiss you. I tried understanding what being sexual with you would be like, because I wanted to be with you, all of you. 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. Of course, you had an incredible body nonetheless: muscular build with some incredible tattoos along your spine. I saw them when you changed in front of me.
When you drank, you almost kissed me. I felt it. I felt a lot of sexual tension. I wanted to kiss you too.
That’s when I realized I want to kiss you in the light of the day. I want to kiss you without pretenses. I want to kiss you with a sober mind, and I want you to be sure about me too. Even if you never realize it, I still love the fuck out of you.