still

that went well.

just when i'm starting to feel better about what went down with the next boy, all of it falls to shit again.

he calls tonight, which is lovely. we talk about lots of things; our day's, the European Union, tiramisu, atheism.

we land on the United Church of Christ and their recent ordination of a post-op FTM transgender person (post operative female to male gender re-assignment).
he starts in on how he doesn't know about all that "gender bending stuff." i explain, perhaps forcefully, that transgender is not gender bending. i talk about gender bending vs. cross dressing vs. transsexual vs. transgender.
i talk about the differences, and how calling it all gender bending is rude and disrespectful.

all is quiet on his end. he asks what time it is. 11:30 i say.
it's time for bed he says.
i ask him if he is uncomfortable with the subject.
he steps around the issue again; time for bed, he says.
i ask again, several times, because now i know it does bother him, i just don't know how much.
he stumbles and finally admits he is uncomfortable.

you can call me tomorrow night if you want, he says.

not, "i'll call you tomorrow," or "what are you doing tomorrow?" or "should we do something tomorrow," which is the typical end of night question.

you can call me tomorrow night if you want, he says.

and now, of course, i feel terrible, again. because now i feel like it's going to end for sure.
and i'll have given it away. and it won't have meant anything.

again.

still.

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