From the moment I met Marcus, I knew he would change my life. He was completely unique in every way. From his saunter to his humor, Marcus stood out in a crowd even if he didn’t try to. From behind the bar, he looked like the kind of person you could go anywhere with.

I could never have known the way Marcus would love me unconditionally through so many seasons of my life. We spent two and a half beautiful years together before he woke up on a Sunday morning and tried to explain that he could no longer be my partner romantically. 

I was blindsided. I felt like a brick wall had been built overnight between us, but knew there was no point in trying to knock down the barrier. I knew, no matter what his struggles were, that I could not follow.

We sat on his porch steps smoking one last cigarette together and reflected on the beautiful time we had together. It took all of the strength I could muster to get into my car that night and leave the world I had known with him behind. I did not want our story to end in flames; we were meant for more than a violent ending, and something in my heart told me that whatever war was waging in his soul was not mine to fight.

One year later, a friend of mine told me that Marcus was transitioning from male to female. So my boyfriend is now my girlfriend. Was learning about her transition easy? Absolutely not. At first, I was filled with so many questions that reflected my own identity. How did I not realize that my boyfriend of two and a half years had a closet full of a secret life?

Now that my ex-boyfriend became my ex-girlfriend, did this make me bisexual? Why was I questioning my sexuality? Why were my friends questioning my sexuality? What did any of this mean? I stumbled and fell quickly into a dark rabbit hole of questions, and nearly let this darkness consume me. I started to feel the rage bubble up in my throat. I wanted to scream, hide, and cry all at once. I couldn’t breathe.

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