The word was a stick in my mouth even as I thought to say it. After all, this was not the choice time to renege my consent (though I'd never given it explicitly). The better time would have been when she kissed me. Better yet, when she asked me out.
Who was I fooling anyway? Anyone? I wasn't even close to concealing the truth, and it made no sense to me.
Me, an out trans who couldn't accept his homosexuality. Ha, what a laugh.
But I couldn't admit that. Liking boys would somehow make me less of one.
So I agreed to go out with her. If I was with a girl, if I slept with her, somehow I thought all my problems would go away.
Yet as I laid on her bed, half-naked and having my pants quickly pealed off of me, I thought NO! I wanted to tell her that, scream it, get her to STOP TOUCHING ME because it didn't feel right.
But I saw how in love she was. Not in lust or anything but love and hope. So I sealed my mouth and the pitiful 'no' inside me. Conceded my defeat. Let that word, No, hang over my head, begging to be let loose so it could cry that I'd been wronged even when it was myself I was swimming against.