So you try it. Try to get through a whole day without using a personal pronoun for the person you love. You think it's easy, right? I mean, who hard can it be to say, this person over here will have the Caesar for dinner. R has suggested this. While he's still not passing, we're in this never/never land, this in-between state. He's a he, but he's still presenting as a she. I'm getting to be OK with this. And I think he's OK because in his head, he's already a man. Has always been a man, (that's the point, right?) but his body is changing to match what's in his head. So it makes sense for him to want me to call him a he. And yet, it's awkward. Right? It's confusing in my brain. Because inside my little head, he is kind of still a she, even though he's never really been a she. See? If I complete that sentence any more, it will be as twisty as my thoughts. But the hard part is some people still know him as a she and some people still perceive him as a she. So if I say he, I get a funny look or a look of flat out confusion. And I get a dirty look from R. So do I really want to explain to the flight attendant that oh, he's transitioning? No. Do I need to? No. Do I feel compelled? Kind of. Kind of . Do I care? No. I don't care. I only care what R thinks. It's just confusing. Sometimes, even I find myself referring to a friend and inside my brain, the thought zips through: is that a girl or a boy? Gender. Gender. Gender.
