And God said, let her be a lesbian.
Of course, She had tried to make me gay a few times before that. From my secret love affair with my best friend in high school to my first marriage with a man who would discover himself to be genderfluid. It seems I am destined to share my life with women and femmes and, really, who can be mad at that?
“How come you turn everyone into girls?” asks my 11-year-old enby femme baby.
Wish I knew. But then again, I wouldn’t change anything. I have no problems being a trans magnet.
Anyway, my wife. My wife, my wife, my wife.
I fucking love my wife. I love that I got to meet her as my gorgeous dream man and watch her grow into a gorgeous dream woman who feels better than ever about the person she is and has always been. I love having the privilege of helping create a space that feels safe and warm for her to just exist authentically. I love that she has granted me the honor of witnessing her growth.
Did I struggle? Sure. There was a minute there where I felt like I was watching my partner, as I knew him, slowly die. I loved everything about him. I was obsessed with him. And I hadn’t been obsessed with a woman like that since I was 15. Did I still have it in me? Could I access my gayness?
Big yep. Turns out I’m pretty gay and always have been. Men will always catch my eye (unfortunately), but my love does run deeper than gender after all. I’m grateful. I know this isn’t always the way the story goes. But the second I imagined my life without this person, I realized I would take her in any form. As long as she is breathing, she’s mine.
I love you, (Ni)Cole. Now, forever, and beyond.