QUEER | tayley

why do we like to hurt so much?

transphobia warning

The morning after the special night I shared with Hayley, she and I finally confess our feelings to one another. I'm the first to do so, admitting how I feel through a good morning message.

Taylor: Good morning. Last night was amazing, at least for me. You make me really happy, Hayley. I really, really like you.

She does not answer me for almost two hours, which causes me to overthink and assume that she's ignoring me. But when she finally answers, I feel much better.

Hayley: Damn, deadass? I don't know why I'm surprised, considering what we did last night. But do you mean that? Because I feel the same way...

Taylor: Of course I mean that.

Taylor: If the feeling is mutual...do you think you might want to, I don't know, be my girlfriend?

Hayley: REALLY?

Hayley: YES. I WOULD LOVE THAT. People always flirt with me or even hook up with me but never with the intention of dating. It's kind of discouraging lol

I smile as I read her response. I'm glad she's so excited about being with me.

Taylor: Do you want to come over today? I want to spend more time with you.

Hayley: I'd love that. Just send me your address and I'll be over soon (:

As I wait for her to arrive, my anxiety makes yet another appearance. I worry that maybe I'm forcing this. Yes, I do like Hayley and do enjoy spending time with her. But the majority of the time that she and I have spent together was when at least one of us was under the influence. What if I'm not the person she likes? What if I'm just the person that drunk Hayley likes?

But she's sober now, so why would she have said yes if she didn't really like me in that way? Maybe she feels bad for me. On the first night we almost hooked up, she did tell me that she hasn't dated every guy that she's slept with and just mentioned it yet again, so maybe I'm special. Or maybe she's just desperate to have a boyfriend. I don't know, I just want this to work out.

—

When Hayley arrives at my house, she and I hurry up the stairs and go to my room. My parents would never allow girls to go upstairs with my brothers, but considering how hesitant they are — more so, how hesitant my dad is and how afraid of him my mom is — to accept me for who I am and really only view me as female (and a straight one, at that), they don't care that Hayley goes up with me. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not. It's boys they don't want going upstairs with me, but they always let Zac go anyway because they're both convinced he's gay at this point.

As she and I are curled up beside one another, her head on my chest, she asks a question that I assume has been on her mind since she discovered the truth.

"So, like...how did you know?" she asks. It doesn't take a genius to understand what she means by that.

"I've known since eighth grade. It was like an epiphany," I admit with a fake laugh. "I remember it clearly, actually. I recall walking up the stairs in my house when the realization hit me. It was very random and sudden, but I didn't doubt it for a single second. I was happy, actually. Because since I was little, I wanted to be a boy. Every year on my birthday, when I blew out the candles on my birthday cake, I would wish to wake up and be a boy. All of my 11:11 wishes were to wake up as a boy, too. I finally realized that I'm not a tomboy, I am a boy."