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It’s a hard conversation to have directly. The topic has been tipped toed around ever so precisely on more than one occasion, you being always the first person to gently put the subject matter back on the shelf. It's not easy to say with your whole chest, you're not even sure you want to. Maybe it would be best to leave the discussion in limbo evermore.
One look into his honest eyes, and his sincere intentions are far too difficult to decline. No, it just wasn't fair to him, he deserved an explanation. If only you could give him one. You fumble on your words, thinking back to previous exchanges regarding the topic at hand. You’ve attempted this dialogue once or twice, most of your cards already exposed faced up on the table.
You were entirely transparent when admitting manhood felt shackling to you in its entirety. You were truthful when expressing your inability to process the “you” in the mirror. You told no lies when you admitted your disinterest in upholding traditional masculinity out of obligation. The only conversation remaining was discussing the alternative.
“I don't think I can be a man.”
The statement comes as no shock to him, almost as if he waits for you to continue something he was awaiting the arrival of. He soon realizes you have nothing else prepared outside of your one statement, and prompts you for more dialogue.
“How long have you been settled on that conclusion?”
Though the room read as rhetorical, you pull dust covered memory boxes from the corner of your mind you seldom visit. You have a sincere answer prepared.
“Possibly forever.”
“Forever is a long time.”
You let it sink in. Forever is a long time to sit on something and not vocalize it. Forever may even be too late. Maybe you didn't admit your findings fast enough.
“Is forever ago too long ago to say something now?”
“I was under the impression you've been saying this since I've known you.”
Your tongue fumbles, unsure how to navigate his speech. There's no sentence you can articulate that carries the weight you deem necessary. You settle for something else.
“I don't think I normally know what I'm saying.”
“I could have told you that much. You're quick to action, and quick to speak. Not much thinking going on up there I'm sure.”
It's a playful jab, and it certainly lightens the mood. You let awkward laughter take the place of a more thought out response. You refuse to let the room fall into silence. He goes on, gently encouraging your continuation.
“Have you considered some kind of alternative yet?”
A question too direct to dodge in any meaningful way. You'll just have to take the bullet with dignity. You prepare your response.
“No.”
A lot of thought went into that, it was a very articulated, and blunt “no” said with the perfect amount of firmness.
“You should start considering alternatives to that then, unless you're open to suggestions.”
Suggestions sound easier than managing to come to a conclusion all on your own. Perhaps his assistance is well warranted.
“Do you have any of those?”
“The obvious suggestion would certainly be, woman, but I imagine if the conclusion was that direct you wouldn't be asking me.”
You hesitate, and let the response linger in your ears. You play with this idea in your mind for a moment. Toying with it in ways you have never attempted to. You pick and prod at the idea of “womanhood”. Gears in your mind turn in new directions. You think he gets the impression that you have in fact not considered this to be a possibility.
You pull at it some more, really weighing the facets of womanhood you are aware of. You hold the concept within your own hands, as if it were a new stimulus never before experienced. You take into consideration what you disliked about the manhood forced upon. The suffocating feeling of forced masculinity, the heavy weight of the expected rough edges around every part of you. Manhood was filled with expectations you were incapable of fulfilling.
You present yourself with its obvious alternative, and take the potential possibility to heart. Though the idea is initially tempting, you ask yourself if you're capable of upholding a new just as restricting standard. Could you always be delicate, and soft spoken? Could you withhold your bite, and grit when push came to shove? The answer was a very clear no.
No, you had no intention of freeing yourself from something so oppressive, only to chain yourself to an alternative prison. This wasn't the answer you seeked. Though you can admit there was a certain allure to some aspects of femininity that drew you near, masculinity shared a similar pull on the right occasion, especially when not forced upon you without your consent.
You find especially within the realm of your relationship, masculinity is not a crucial thing to exhibit, and when freed from the expectation, you almost find it fun to perform on the occasion. Masculine language did not necessarily need to be revoked from the language of all those close to you when addressing you, but you certainly would appreciate some kind of more neutral alternative. You weigh your dialogue choices, and present your findings.
“That also sounds horrible.”
“Was it food for thought at the very least?”
Food for thought was a nice way of putting it. You did not make your way to any reasonable conclusion, but you certainly did find your train of thought somewhere new at the very least.
“I think so, but I'm not sure what the alternative to what is now two bad choices would be.”
“I suppose just neither.”
Neither. That wasn't really a choice. There was never a choice for “neither”. When your father told you not to behave like such a girl, it was never with the assumption that you would align yourself as “neither,”. When your father implied you should “man up” it was with the impression you would become a functioning adult within society, fulfilling your role as “man” with no issues.
You initially thought some people just needed more pushing than others, that maybe with enough force someone could cram you right into the mold labeled man, and for once it wouldn't feel suffocating. Rather, the person before you refuses to even attempt. Instead he gently nudges you away, with affection verbiage and soft spoken language. He offers you the humble “neither”.
Neither sounds free from responsibility. Neither sounds so freeing. Neither sounds weightless, like it could be layered onto your skin, and you wouldn't even notice its presence. Your mind hovers over the possibility of neither.
“Neither sounds okay, if that's a choice I can make.”
He looks as though he's relieved. As if he had been pursuing a closure to this conversation longer than you've even been aware you've been having it. This man knows you potentially better than you know yourself.
“Neither is a fine choice.”
You recall his romantic preferences, and homosexual tendencies. You think back to his explicitly stated exclusive and mutual attraction to those who were not women. You shift in place, scared for the progression of this conversation.
“Does this needlessly complicate things? I've been a man for thirty years, I would not mind continuing if it promised me you.”
He shakes his head in disapproval as if he has already given the idea much more thought than you have. You're almost embarrassed you asked, knowing now he had a response prepared.
“No complications, exceptions can always be made. I’d hardly call you an exception.”
You're relieved, glad you worded your concerns in a way he could understand. His response is telling. Perhaps you're too open of a book. You can't help but feel as though right now you're his current literary pursuit, like an anthology of poems detailing your inner mind sat right into his hand. You found it all rather revealing.
“I don't want you shackled to me.”
“You’re the most freeing thing in this world.”
“I'm not a man.”
“Certainly not a woman either.”
“But not a man.”
“I wouldn't call our engagement heteronormative by any means, and I don't see that changing just because you've finally managed honestly with yourself. You've always been you. I don't see that changing.”
“So you don't take any issues with it?”
“I never have.”
You finally let there be a moment of silence. The information slowly processes in your mind, turning, and churning, sinking into your inner workings. You think you finally may have come to some sort of conclusion. You break the silence with the first question to emerge from the newly discovered knowledge you've pieced together.
“Did anything change?”
“Nothing as far as I'm concerned.”
“Was something supposed to change?”
“Do you want things to change?”
“No, I never want anything to change.”
“Still you, I see.”
“I've never liked change.”
“This I know.”
There was always some kind of bitter sweet comfort that manhood brought with it. At the very least it promised continuity, it promised lack of change, it promised something you already knew. The possibility of freeing yourself from this, it was a rather large leap in an unknown direction. You were unsure where to take it.
“I don't know what I would change, even if I wanted it.”
“You don’t have to. I'm sure the big picture will settle in your mind if you give it time to appear.”
His words are comforting. They provide some solace in these confusing times. You struggle to wrap your head around even just the idea of the big picture, but this bothers you fairly little. His smile is too affectionate to concern yourself with much outside the here and now. He begins to prompt you again.
“Should I change the way I address you? I could.. change your title.”
Your relationship always lacked a more official sounding title, the end of the world made it difficult to navigate that sort of thing. It felt oddly romantic to give your connection some kind of name. Though you're unsure of the title that would be best reflective of your newfound state of “neither”. Boyfriend, and girlfriend were both far too deep within expectations of gendered performance you did not have the confidence to commit to. He pursues your answer once more.
“What should I call you?”
“Your love. That works.”