It was a decision I had subconciously struggled with for a few months, ever since the two bright stars that are the Bartholome twins came into my life. Without even meaning to, without a single thought, the 3 of us became best of friends.

Jamie was a firecracker, even at 19, and Ali was awkwardly beautiful, adjusting to his 6 months on T body. It only took a few weeks to realise that these two halves of one whole were made just with me in mind.

I fell hard, and I fell fast, although I was oblivious until that night, the 20th of May, when they threw me a little party, just the 3 of us, to celebrate me surviving my exams. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to kiss this beautiful, shy, compelling creature, who was so unbelievably my type, except for one thing.

At 17 years old, with my very wide experience of 2 sexual partners, I thought I had it all worked out. I liked cock, and Ali lacked cock. This man, this totally overwhelming, ridiculously endearing, wonderful man, lacked the one thing that society would say made him a man.

But drunk on cheap vodka, high on post exam euphoria, and nestled in the safety of these two boys who had become my world, I made the decision. Ali wasn’t a man in spite of his lack of the “appropriate” genitalia. He wasn’t defined by his trans-ness. He was just Ali, my boy, my best friend, and the love of my life.