I was making out with a girl this weekend at our apartment’s Fourth of July get-together. We were both rather drunk, and I wasn’t sure she knew I was trans. (Don’t worry – we were in my living room, with roommates at the other end of the apartment. It was a safe situation.) Her hands started exploring southwardly; I stopped her, asking, “You know I’m trans right?”
She paused. “No.” Another pause, leaving lots of room for me to start worrying about her eventual reaction. “So?”
And she leaned in for another kiss.