It was the first warm night of the year. “God… you look like a boy…” ze sighed, probing me with hir eyes. Ze looked over the lines of my flat-bound chest. “You look really hot,” ze concluded. I stayed silent, nodded my thanks as I flushed and looked at the ground. We were standing in an alley, smoking cigarettes, taking a break from the loud bar. “Do I look hot?” ze asked, being uncharacteristically hesitant. “Yeah. You look hot,” I replied. This was true; I noticed my attraction to hir as I spoke. “I’m wearing a dress.” “I see. It’s nice,” I said, realizing I didn’t usually see hir wearing dresses; hir style was usually more urban warrior; bike pants, punk t-shirt, and a military cap. But tonight ze was wearing a red silk kimono style dress. And makeup. And heels. I was curious. “My roommate made me put it on. I didn’t want to. It’s hers. I hate wearing these things. I don’t like being pretty. I wish …” ze trailed off. Then ze moved closer to me. “You look really hot,” ze repeated. Ze asked me if I wanted to make out. I did. We did. Intensely. Our passion was noble, strong, maybe slightly tragic. Tongues, hands, hair, bodies. It was the first warm night of the year. We had moved to my car, parallel parked on a busy Chicago street. I sat in the driver’s seat and ze was straddling me as we kissed. Our activity was interrupted by the horn, hit by hir butt. We laughed. “This isn’t much more private than the alley,” I noted. “I’m not ready for any… of this…” ze said. “Oh. I’m sorry.” “No I mean… I’m not ready to admit that I’m not a girl.” “Ok. You don’t have to,” I said, slightly surprised at this. “But every time I see you, and you’re so free… I don’t know. I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know.” “Me neither,” I replied. Our eyes caught and we both laughed. It was true, though. I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know. I just knew that it was the first warm night of the year, and I looked forward to more.