“Hi, thanks for coming here,” Landon said.

  He looked tired. His eyes were puffy and red, like many tears had been shed.

  “Sure thing,” I said, swallowing and rolling my shoulders back.

  He looked like a sad, lost puppy, and it broke my heart.

  We made our way up to his apartment, and I sat on the couch as he sat across from me in a chair.

  “Can I get you anything?”

  “No, I’m fine, thanks,” I said, smiling slightly.

  “Okay,” he said, fiddling with his hands.

  “How have you been doing this past week?” I said, trying to gently ease into this conversation instead of just diving right back in.

  “Uh, well, not great. I’ve been crying a lot, but I want to hear what you have to say. It’s been tough without talking to you and seeing you. I really enjoy you being a part of my life, and when I said I loved you, I genuinely meant it.” I nodded.

  “How was the week for you?” he said anxiously.

  “About the same, really.”

  “Yeah,” he whispered.

  “It felt like an ultimatum,” I blurted.

  His eyes became alert, and he watched me intensely.

  “Like, if marriage is off the table for you, then we have to be done or you have to give it up. And I guess I don’t understand why it has to be like that. I want a commitment from you. That doesn’t mean an engagement in three months or a year or even two years. I have no idea when that will come about, but I trust that we will talk about it beforehand and work together to decide what’s best,” I said.

  “I guess, in the past, for me, a label meant marriage was on the horizon.”

  “I get that. I totally understand that you have some religious trauma with that, but you never asked me. You just assumed that’s what I would want from us, and I don’t. Am I interested in exploring the idea of marriage? For sure but not right now. That feels like years away, and I don’t understand why you get to make that decision for both of us now.”

  “So, if we put a label on us, it doesn’t mean we have to get married anytime soon or at all? We are just committed to one another for now until we decide to do something else?” Landon said, testing the words.

  “Exactly. We get to decide what a commitment looks like. And I do want a commitment. I want a life partner, but that can look like a lot of different things. And I would assume, if we were together, that we would be willing to meet each other halfway instead of making decisions for the both of us without consulting the other.”

  I was trying my best to keep my voice calm and even. I was stunned that Landon expected that marriage came immediately after a label. I mean, hell, I didn’t even know what I wanted to eat the next day, let alone if I was ready to get married.

  “Okay, I can see now that this may have been a slight overreaction and a hyperbolic scenario I created in my head,” he said, furrowing his brow.

  “I would agree.”

  “My therapist told me I was worrying about something way down the line. She said I was putting the cart before the horse or something like that, and it sounds like I totally did,” he said sheepishly.

  “Your therapist sounds like a smart lady.”

  “She is.” Landon smiled.

  “Are you open to the idea of exploring marriage if or when that time comes, and we talk about it together?” I said, wanting to make sure we were crystal clear on our expectations from this conversation.

  “Yes, I am open to figuring things out as they come and stop making decisions and worrying about problems that don’t exist yet,” Landon said playfully.

  “Okay, so we can keep it as an ongoing conversation that doesn’t have a definite end, okay? I will let you know if or when that becomes something I want or need from our relationship, and I expect you to do the same.”

  “You got it.”

  “So, can we put a label on us now with it just meaning boyfriend/girlfriend/partner or whatever label we want to use that shows that we are committed to one another and want to be in each other’s lives?” I said, finally feeling like my chest could open again.

  Like the breath wasn’t caught in my throat, and my anxiety would not drown me.

  “Yes, I think I am now comfortable doing that,” Landon said, smiling broadly.

  “A label means exclusivity and commitment to continual growth and change and evolution with one another in my eyes,” I said, wanting to shine light on what a commitment meant to me.

  “Same, and I am so sorry for all of this, E. I didn’t mean to cause so much havoc for us this week. I was scared and let it get the best of me. I apologize for giving you an ultimatum and making this week absolutely miserable.”

  “I accept your apology, and it’s okay. We will have lots of tough conversations in the future, and this is just one of them. Thank you for giving me space when I asked and for hearing me out when I needed to.”

  “Of course. Anytime you need some time and physical distance to puzzle things out, please just tell me. I want you to feel comfortable and confident in this relationship and your decision-making when it comes to us,” he replied evenly.

  He was doing and saying all the right things. The knot in my belly had been unworking itself, and I relaxed a little bit more with each passing phrase.

  “Okay, well, great! Now, please come over here and give me a hug and no more tears, okay?” I opened my arms and ushered him in.

  Landon snuggled right beside me, and we wrapped our arms around each other and sat in silence for a few minutes.

  “I was really afraid I had fucked this all up and was going to lose you,” Landon whispered into my shoulder.

  “I mean, I was really angry, honestly. I was ready to say fuck it and throw all this pain away and then I talked to some trustworthy friends, and they said I should have a conversation first,” I confessed.

  Avoidance was easier for me. I wasn’t great with messy emotions, and I wasn’t great with hard conversations like this all the time between intimate partners.

  “Well, I am glad you decided to listen to them, then,” Landon said.

  “Me too. I just was really frustrated that I felt like I was being pushed into a corner and forced into a choice, you know? That’s what it felt like, and I really did not appreciate it.”

  “I will try my best not to do that again and not jump the gun so quickly about future endeavors between the two of us,” he said, hugging me tighter.

  “Did you consult any friends?” I asked.

  “Yes, and she was also having some dating things come up, so we both basically sat and cried and ate ice cream about how we felt like our relationships were ending.” Landon laughed lightly.

  “Nice!” I giggled.

  “Want to go grab some food, then? I didn’t eat lunch because I was so nervous, and now I am starving,” I said gently, adding space between us, my stomach grumbling.

  “Yes, let’s go get some food,” Landon said, smiling. “Let me just freshen up for a minute here because I am wearing my sad-girl clothes and sad-girl face.”

  “I think it’s adorable but feel free to do what you need to do,” I said, laughing and placing a light kiss on his temple.

  Landon disappeared in his bedroom to change and added a little makeup.

  I texted Fatima, as she knew I was having a hard conversation with Landon and knew that the time had arrived and passed for us to have it.

  Me: Hey. The conversation went well. We are staying together. Marriage is so far away, and he was just scared. He had a knee jerk reaction and apologized. Things are good, and we are going to get some food.

  I texted my mom as well, since she knew all there was to know about what was going on in my life, and she sent back a heart emoji almost immediately.

  “Just give me five more minutes!” Landon called out.

  “Seriously in no rush, babe, so take your time. The food will still be there, even if we leave in the next six hours,” I replied, laughing.

  My phone dinged, and Fatima had popped back up.

  Fatima: So glad he was responsive and apologized. Do you feel good about how it ended and how it’s moving forward?

  I replied almost immediately.

  Me: Yes! I feel really good about it and I feel good about our ability to have hard conversations which I feel like is pretty important moving forward you know?

  The three little dots popped up, and the message came quickly.

  Fatima: Proud of you for having hard conversations and happy that you are happy!! Hugs. See you later and enjoy your food!

  “Almost ready!” Landon sing-songed from the bathroom.

  I laughed. I think he would always take much longer to get ready than I would. And I was okay with that.

  “Okay, I am ready! Let me find my bag and my keys.” He scrambled around, looking for them, and I just stared at his chaotic self as he buzzed around the room.

  “Where are they?” he mumbled, and I chuckled.

  Finally, he found them and looked at me like he had just won a prize.

  I smiled broadly back.

  “What?” he said, looking confused.

  “I’m just looking at you!” I said, smiling even bigger.

  “Okay, well, stop it . . .” he said. “But don’t stop.” He winked playfully.

  “I just love you so much,” I said, pulling him in for a loud kiss.

  He blushed. “I love you, too.”

  “All right, let’s get some food before I get hangry,” I said, linking my fingers in his.

  “I would hate for that to happen,” he replied saucily.

  “Me too,” I giggled, dragging us out the door.

  “Should we celebrate our labeling with tacos?”

  “Always.”

  So, we left, blissfully coupled and beautifully queer.

  EPILOGUE

  "Happy one year, baby!” I said, planting a light kiss on Landon’s mouth.

  “Happy one year!”

  “Can you believe it’s been that long? Did you think it would end up like this?” I said, sitting to face him on my couch.

  “No, I really had no idea what would happen. I thought you might get sick of me at some point,” he teased, running his fingers down my arm.

  “Never!” I nudged his shoulder.

  I winked at him. “Also, I have a funny surprise for you.”

  “What’s a funny surprise?”

  “Didn’t we agree that we would do a boudoir photo shoot together for our one year and no gifts outside of that?” He looked a little worried that I had gotten him something and he hadn’t.

  “This doesn’t necessarily have to do with our one year. But I am so excited for our boudoir couple shoot together. E & E looking hot as hell for everyone to seeeeee!” I giggled.

  It was still funny sometimes that our life was on display due to Ella’s rising fame on Instagram. People seemed very interested in how we worked as a couple. If we wanted another play partner and how intimacy worked.

  Some of which we were willing to share. Other parts were private and sacred. Like they didn’t need to know what we did for sex. Some lines had to be drawn, and some boundaries had to be held.

  However, I had wanted to do a boudoir photo shoot by myself for a long time and then it was just sweet for us to do one together and another chance for Ella to feel sexy and feminine and beautiful.

  “Me too. When I did it last time, it was so fun, and now I can’t wait to do one with you and see how beautiful we are together,” Landon said wistfully.

  Landon was still unsure about where he fell on the gender identity scale. And that was okay. There was no rush for answers, and there were lots of ways and opportunities we had found femininity for him in the relationship inside and outside full feminine-presenting.

  It was messy at times and not always perfect, but we had found ways to make it fun and exciting. I would be supportive if Landon woke up and wanted to transition. I was here for the long haul.

  “But back to my funny surprise!”

  “Okay, okay. What’s your funny surprise if it doesn’t have anything to do with our one-year anniversary?” he said, looking confused again.

  I smiled. “Well, with Bumble, you can send in success stories! And I was like ‘Why not?!’ We are a success. We are queer, and we are cute!”

  It had been a fairly easy application with details about how we met, how Bumble helped facilitate that, and other couple-y things. I didn’t know that Bumble was female-owned and operated. It felt like it made total sense of why we met on the app. Truly, without it, I’m not sure where we would have ended up.

  “Okay, so you told them about us?” he urged.

  “And they reached out! They want to do a story on us and pay us five hundred dollars to do it! So, yay for us being exactly who we are and making some money!” I said.

  I was not prepared for them to pick us or offer us money.

  He smiled goofily. “Oh my gosh, wait! That’s so exciting! I love that!”

  “Yeah, I mean, I filled it out a couple of months ago, truly, and had sort of forgotten about it and then I got a message from someone yesterday to sign a contract and schedule a call!” It was fun to celebrate our love.

  I knew our story could be important to some people. I wanted to get comfortable celebrating our queer love because, sometimes, we felt like we weren’t queer enough, but our identities were valid through and through.

  “You know, I remember when I was single. I made a video about how to date and be me. How and when to explain to someone that I was a drag queen? Or maybe like a cross-dresser? Or gender confused? Or whatever label you want to use!”

  I reached out and squeezed his hand.

  “And I remember there were so many views on that video. And so many comments of people saying various things. Like the third date, right away, et cetera. And so many other stories of people saying they wished they would have told their partner sooner because, now, they had kids and were married and their partner had accidentally found out.”

  The story wasn’t new. It was actually common.

  Typically, a man found freedom and love and beauty in femininity. It started off small and then grew into something bigger. A chance to encompass womanhood with their identity. But it “stayed in a box under the bed,” as Landon liked to say. A secret that felt shameful but unavoidable.

  Then, usually, with heteronormative couples, the wife would find out and think that, first off, the husband was cheating with all the “woman” things he owned and then they discovered the truth. For most women, it was shocking. Understandably so, regarding your husband having another identity is surprising. But then the transphobia would rear its ugly head.

  They would often accuse their husbands of being sick and that they could just get it out of their system, and if they didn’t see it, it was fine. But, in reality, your gender identity goes deeper than that, and, often, the partner just couldn’t understand and made it solely about them.

  What a beautiful thing to celebrate your partner’s identity, their true and happiest form, and to welcome it into your lives. To teach your children to love everyone despite what they looked like, who they loved, and what was underneath their clothing, but it was often an opportunity missed and then exploited.

  “I know, sometimes, it’s funny to be celebrated for loving one another when that seems like the most natural thing in the whole world, but for so many, it’s an oddity. Not only do we love each other wholly, but we like that we have complexities in our gender and sexual identity. It makes us a fantastic match. And I just want people to know that it’s possible to be honest from the start to allow all parts of you to flourish in relationships. And I think our story does just that,” Landon said with a tear rolling down his cheek.

  “I agree stories are important. They give people hope and support and show the possibilities of what could be. I think, for so many people, they are so threatened by what’s different because then they make it about themselves and their own identity is threatened. I wish I could shake some of these presumably straight, mostly white woman that their partner’s gender identity doesn’t have a damn thing to do with them. Also, your partner is still the same human inside, and isn’t it weird that you only want to like someone for their genitals? I just want to be, like, ‘Stop being so afraid of queerness in any entity!’”

  It made me want to rage when I heard people responding terribly to their partner coming out to them. I can understand being shocked and taking time to process something so large but not being hurtful or harmful.

  If you loved someone, wouldn’t you want them to be happy?

  “I think our story shows people what is possible,” Landon said, smiling and wiping the tears away from his eyes.

  “I think so, too. I hope the story that Bumble does show people that anything is possible on these godforsaken apps.” I scooched closer and wrapped my arms around him.

  “People could always use a little hope these days,” I said, rubbing my face into his hair.

  He snuggled deeper. “Well, thanks for filling out the form, then.”

  “Well, thanks for being so lovable.” I gave him a good squish.

  “Happy one year, my love,” Landon said before planting a kiss on my arm.

  “Happy one year, darling.”

  “And here’s to many more years to come,” Landon said, wiggling out of my arms and to face me.

  “And for years to come,” I responded, smiling goofily.

  Our lips met in a way that felt natural and normal, like breathing.

  We sealed our fate with a kiss that day.

  And we planned to live happily queerly after.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thank you to the team of people who literally keep me sane every freaking day.