Who Knows When?

Tonight, I fall in love. No ifs, buts or, maybes, it’s bound to happen because I’ve decided. Strange how often I can make grand decisions that will define my life, my career, even others, and yet love is the one thing that seems unattainable even to someone who, at 30, has their life ‘together’ as my parents would say. Circling today in fluorescent pink, I glance away from the all too familiar calendar and survey the softly lit room, wondering why it has taken me so long to fix this missing part of me. I have everything else, including a beautiful apartment albeit fairly sparse of sentimental content, but that’s normal for a bachelor I imagine. One day she will fill this space and we can admire the same evening sun spilling across photos of our holidays and her fresh flowers perched in handmade vases rather than the solitary shelves that sit waiting for such future promises. I close my eyes, my cheeks warming at the glow of it all, one step at a time though as we need to have our first date and tonight is the opportunity.

For something so routine, this all feels so new. I knew I needed to change my approach but is this right? As my uber cruises along the narrow, bar-smothered streets of West London, a sudden stop returns me from a stream of questions I have no time to answer. I cannot help but feel that something is different; this doesn’t feel right and I know what my friends would think if they knew. They were ‘traditional’ which is a nice way of saying close-minded, so I often tend to leave my more progressive thoughts at the door each time we meet for catch-up drinks. Smiling in that slightly insincere way we do with strangers, I thank the driver and make my way towards our venue for the night - the place where I will fall in love - step by step I find myself closer to the dull hum of music until I feel like I have walked into a proximity that won’t allow me to turn back. 

I enter hesitantly all the while feeling the weight of ‘what ifs’ sitting uninvited on my shoulders. That weight now takes the form of a whisper, ‘What if I sit here for hours and get stood up? How tragic and clichè would that be.’ Accompanied by the thrum of a live band, I scan across the place looking for my reserved spot. There she is! She’s early which means I resemble someone late - is that good or bad? Stop thinking, just approach. Illuminated by the glow of candles in front, she gracefully stands and I feel her radiance as she drifts closer to greet me. Just the faintest of touches as we kiss cheeks and utter our first opening words. I cannot help but admire her beauty, hair that shimmers and flows like a stream made of the most precious jewels and a body whose every line knows exactly where to be and how to curve. Her deep, amber eyes look expectantly at me, almost questioning me. Wait, I got lost for a moment. What did she say?

“Shall we sit down?” She repeats gently.

“Of course,” I reply more meekly than I would have liked.

As drinks clink on their arrival, I find myself constantly mesmerised. Everything falls into place, silences are filled, conversations spring lightly, and there’s even enough flirting to wonder but never quite enough to be sure of interest. Although I was hesitant at first, I do eventually decide that I can do alcohol tonight without fear of repeating ‘the incident’. She asks me why the reluctance and I brush it off as me just being reserved on a first date, this works as she does attempt to pry. No one needs to know about that right now. Besides, I’m riding a wave of dopamine right now and how could I even dare to spoil by falling victim to my candor!

The night continues to meander and so like a good dance partner we follow its lead and move on from place to place. I let loose and we decide that a few more drinks won’t hurt anyone. The more we drink the less I analyse. In a freeing sense, I am simply experiencing each moment in real-time and basking in the fondness growing between us. No judgement, no catastrophic premonitions, only the purest of the present. Everyone around us is in their own moment, and with this, I decide to embrace ours. As we sit closer now, on what resembles a sofa, she gently takes my hand and places it around her waist and she rests her hand on my thigh by no accident, each exchange of ideas brings us closer until I can feel her almost holding her breath in anticipation. Face to face, a numbness fills my peripherals and adrenaline sets my heart pounding at a force only outdone by its pace. She tilts her head and pushes her obsidian tresses across to one side, they flow from an elegant shoulder ending distinctly by her breasts. Then we kiss... a deep, sensual moment where with eyes closed you can feel yourself lost for an intangible amount of time. As we stop, I cannot shake the intense, dizzying sensation - I’m aroused - not just sexually but by it all. My senses all feel like they’ve finally reached their potential and each cell vibrates in excitement.

We stumble out into the crisp, spring night, finding ourselves tinged by the fluorescence of the lamps above and no longer engulfed in the buzz of a full, thriving bar. Without so much as a word we grab a taxi and head straight to my place. 

Before I can even reach for my key, she pulls me against her, we stumble until pressed against my front door and I can feel how aroused she is. As the caress of her lips finds me, I slide my hand up her dress - by invitation - and she tells me to keep going. Now my hand is between her legs, and yes this is different, but I don’t question it and feel her as erect as me. 

Doing this for the first time creates a fervent rush, much more intense than any I’ve known. Like forbidden lovers with only one chance, we bundle inside the apartment with an urgency that pairs perfectly with our lust. Once into the bedroom, we continue to bond deep into the early hours, using only the sensuality of our unclothed bodies to strengthen our connection.

As early sunlight starts to wash across the duvet, I turn and see her still here. A weight sinks in my stomach as I realise it’s time to talk. 

“Last night was perfect…” I leave this hanging in the air.

“Why do I feel like you’re about to say but?” 

Sitting slightly uncomfortable now, “...but you are different to what I am used to and I can’t quite understand how you fit with what I envisioned for myself.”

“You knew before the date even happened that I was a trans woman and yet now, after everything, you want to push your regrets onto me. How is that fair? Let me guess? You feel uncomfortable as it blurs your perspective of sexuality? Or you feel like less of a man?”

The truth of what she’s saying hits more accurately than any physical strike could.

“You gave me everything I was looking for but there is this small pinch in my core and I cannot shift it. Everyone’s expectations of what I should be and what I want to be as well feel nailed onto me and unshakeable. I keep thinking about what my family and friends will think of me if I tell them about last night.”

She sits up now, “Well you should have considered that before. You’re not the first person to try and justify a change of heart and I can’t pretend that being cut down by another rejection doesn’t hurt. What happened last night was the perfect date. I felt comforting energy between us and at one point I glimpsed a place where love could grow. You can’t fake those things.”

“My heart hasn’t changed but something is keeping it restrained.” 

“It’s clear to me and at some point, it will be clear to you, you’re not deciding, you’re just letting the outside world choose for you and that’s weakness. How can you be happy when you can’t even choose to embrace your feelings?”

At this, she gets up, and still, despite the throbbing headache, my eyes follow her fixated on her beauty. She dresses hastily and heads off into the living room. I follow her and see her standing in the sparse room already filling it with her effortless grace. She looks across the room, eyebrows furrowed, and then snatches a pen and pad of post-it notes from the side. Without pause, she scribbles down her full name and forcefully sticks the pink square over a crowd of faded circles on my calendar. Finally, she moves towards the door. Should I tell her to stop? Can I say anything? My indecisiveness leads me to inevitably do nothing though.

She stops, and without turning, gently says, “Last night we fell in love, whether you know it or not, now it’s up to you what happens next.” With that she leaves.

Thirty minutes later, here I am, surveying the same room, I notice an even deeper emptiness than before. No longer just a room but my very own profound void. Her energy has touched this place and it can’t be undone. If I decide to call her now, perhaps I can make it up to her? But then again is that what I want? Maybe I will call...