I went home and when my parents asked if I was alright I told them I thought I was coming down with a cold and was going to bed early. Before I went to bed I checked my email and saw one from Lindsey. I was going to delete it, but then decided to read it. It said:

"Dear Bill, I'm so sorry I hurt you and hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me. The world is a dangerous place for people like me and I hope you will keep my secret safe. You are a wonderful guy, and a great loss to me. If you would like to understand my situation better, try Googling gender dysphoria or transgender. You will see a lot of porn, which isn't realistic, but go ahead and look if you want. What I hope you will read is some of the articles, especially the medical ones. I love you Bill and know I've done you wrong. – Lindsey"

I brought up Google and did some searching. Most of the hits were porn sites, which I could go to later, but right now I was looking for some facts. I read a number of articles and it all seemed so incredible. How could a girl be born into a boy's body? I read about the violence and the high suicide rate. I wondered what it would be like if you really were born into the wrong body.

I finally went to bed and had difficulty sleeping, but finally dozed off. The next morning I awoke, and felt less betrayed, and tried to make sense of what Lindsey had told me and what I had read online. I knew it was going to be awkward to see her at school, but perhaps I could get some clarity from her.

Lindsey stayed home from school – I guess I wasn't surprised, but she would have to emerge some time. I thought that with time it might work itself out. That night after dinner I got a call from Mrs. Glenberg, who asked me to stop by to talk with her. She said I wouldn't have to see Lindsey, and she promised not to threaten me.

I didn't really want to go, but I felt that I couldn't turn her down. Mrs. Glenberg greeted me at the door and invited me in. She offered me a cola but I declined it.

"Lindsey's situation is very complicated," she began, "And most people don't understand – it took me a long time."

"I'm sure it is," I said, "And I'm trying to make sense of it myself."

"Lindsey is crushed," Mrs. Glenberg continued, "she has been crying most of the day and want to switch schools. I want you to know why we moved here."

"I promised Lindsey I wouldn't tell anyone," I insisted.

"Good," she replied, "But I want you to understand just how serious it is. Lindsey was almost murdered before we moved."

"Because she was transgender?" I asked.

"Yes," she affirmed, "she was badly beaten and spent over a week in the hospital. I don't want to move, and couldn't bear for her to go through that again."

"Mrs. Glenberg," I said, "I'm good and confused, but one thing I am clear on is that I won't let anyone know – and you can cut my balls off if I do!"

"I wouldn't want to do that," she said, "But thank you."

"Could I see Lindsey?" I asked.

"I don't think that would be a good idea," she said. I wished her and Lindsey well and went home. Over the next few days I found myself really missing Lindsey. I was still in love with her and I didn't care what she had between her legs. If it meant that I was gay, then I'd have to live with that.

I read all the articles I could find online, and really squirmed as I read about the Gender Reassignment Surgery, where they cut off the penis and somehow make an artificial vagina.

I came to realize that love was about the person; I was simply going to have to come to terms with the girl I love being transgendered. I finally looked at some of the porn sites; most were pretty crude, but I saw one video of a young couple that seemed to be in love, like Lindsey and myself. There was no vagina, but they seemed to do just fine. I resolved to go back to Lindsey.

That day at school I called Mrs. Glenberg and told her that I had come to terms with all Lindsey had told me and that I wanted to still be her boyfriend, if she would have me, and asked if I could see her tonight. She agreed and told me to come by after dinner.

I wanted to bring Lindsey flowers but couldn't afford the prices at the florist. My Mom had no idea what was happening with Lindsey, but had guessed that I had messed up badly. She gave me some money and told me that there were nice flowers at the grocery store. She told me to pick out something nice, and I better make it up to Lindsey for whatever I did.

I just went along with what she said, not wanting to tell her the real story. I picked out some nice flowers and proceeded to Lindsey's. Mrs. Glenberg greeted me and took the flowers. She put them in a vase and told me Lindsey would see me soon.

I sat on the couch, feeling sick about all of this, feeling like somehow I had done something really wrong, and not knowing how to make it right.

Lindsey entered the room and saw the flowers and ran up to me. She stopped short and said, "Is it okay to kiss you, or would you rather not?"

I took her in my arms and pulled her to me. Our lips touched and mouths opened to reconnect.

"I'm so sorry," I said.

"Me too," said Lindsey, "I struggled about when and how to tell you, and could find no easy way."

"You got that right," I said, "It sure wasn't easy."

"I'm not entirely sure what I'm getting into," I said, putting my hands on either side of Lindsey's head, "But I love the person who is in here, and will just have to work out the details. Please Lindsey, will you take me back?"

"Of course!" said Lindsey, "I was so afraid that I'd lost you – thank you so much for coming back!"

"I hope we can pick up where we were," I said.

"We can try," Lindsey assured me.

"I have much to learn," I said, "About transgender and about you."

"We'll work on that together," she said.

"Then I'll see you in school tomorrow?" I asked.

"You bet!" she said.

"You've got a lot of catching up to do," said Lindsey's Mom.

I returned home. That night I slept better than I had in days.

  To be continued . . .

Feel free to contact me with your comments or requests.
    –Bill Beaumonte (oral_guy_2000@yahoo.com)