On July 6 of last year I broke up with Heather, ending the worst
relationship of my life. I was 25 at the time. Heather was in interesting
specimen to be sure. A grouchy and emotionless diabetic finishing up her
PhD in Exercise Science, Heather was someone that eschewed femininity
almost completely. If I were to be truthful, I would admit that I loved
her because I deemed her fucked up enough to love me back.
It was an interesting relationship because in many ways I was the girl. I
enjoyed cooking her dinners as she finished her dissertation. It was a
very bad relationship in that I rarely felt respected - Heather rarely
cared to put any mind into our conversations, and she generally ignored me
unless it was convenient for her.
At the end of the relationship something was very clear to me - I had
stayed with Heather because I was a closeted transsexual. I felt like I
was too fucked up for anyone to ever love - I knew that I needed to deal
with my feelings. Facing my fears, I made an appointment with my school's
counseling center.