Anthony was having a dilemma.
The revelation that Sören was a trans man wasn't an automatic dealbreaker for him - Anthony had never considered dating a trans man before, simply because he had never met one in-person before, or at least not that he was aware of, guessing that most of them went stealth like Sören.
Anthony was going to have to change his masturbation fantasies a bit, though - he'd been fantasizing about Sören with a penis before he knew what was up; he didn't know if he'd be repulsed by a vulva or not. He was turned off by women generally, but Sören was male, and looked it, and Anthony found himself "doing research" the night of Sören's revelation, looking at FTM porn. He felt a bit self-conscious about watching, not wanting to objectify trans men, but he justified it to himself by telling himself how his cock responded would inform him of his next move with whether he wanted to pursue a relationship or just be friends. So he watched a younger trans guy getting fucked by a cis guy about his age, and when the younger one called the top Daddy, Anthony came his brains out thinking about Sören calling him Daddy. That gave him his answer: his attraction wiring was less about genital configuration and more about gender presentation.
But there were still other potential issues.
There was a fifteen-year age gap between them. Anthony's last partner, William, had been ten years his junior. Anthony had come of age in the 1990s when gay-bashing was normal and HIV was considered a death sentence; William came of age in the late 2000s when there was more tolerance and acceptance of gays, HIV had become a manageable chronic condition with drugs, and Truvada aka PrEP was introduced in the early 10s to make casual sex far less risky. William was also originally from the Bay Area, so homophobia was even less of something he'd grown up with. Even without someone in their twenties being in a different place in life than someone in their thirties, with different perspectives and priorities, Anthony often found himself frustrated that William did not get it with what he went through as a young gay man and how that shaped his tendency towards discretion and domesticity - or "boring", as William called it - rather than being in-your-face levels of out and into partying and hookups.
And yet, Anthony still romanticized the idea of being with a younger man - being a sort of mentor and protector if not quite a father figure - and he got the feeling that since transphobia was rampant, Sören could understand his experience of homophobia in the 90s and early 00s much better than a cis gay guy the same age as Sören or William.
Anthony didn't know that Sören wouldn't think him too old, or even possibly unsafe if he expressed interest, remembering Sören mentioning that he'd been groomed as a teenager. The groomer was female, and he and Sören had met as adults, Sören was closer to thirty than twenty, but Anthony still didn't want Sören to feel triggered.
And then, of course, Sören had brought up chasers. Anthony liked Sören before he knew Sören was trans, he wasn't interested just because Sören was a guy with a pussy, which seemed very othering - it weirded him out that people were like that, and he imagined it had to be even creepier for Sören. Anthony didn't want to come off like a creepy chaser. He still wanted to get to know Sören, keep testing the waters and see where things went - if nothing else, it would be nice to have another LGBT friend in town, maybe they could go to Pride together next year - but he knew he would have to tread very carefully to make it anything more than friendship.
Presuming Sören was available and presuming that Sören even liked men that way. Anthony had gotten the vibe that Sören was a fellow gay man before they had coffee together, but he'd heard most trans men had a lesbian history before coming out and only dated women, so he didn't know what to think.
Except that he was overthinking all of this. As usual.
Anthony's final dance class was on Tuesday, June twenty-seventh - less than a week before the class reunion, on Saturday the first. Sören drilled him on every move and style he learned, and when it was all done, after their last dance, Sören jumped with glee and gave him a hug. "You're gonna do great," Sören said, his face lit up and making Anthony weak.
"Thanks," Anthony said, smiling back. "I hope so."
Sören handed him a sparkling water and they sat together on the bench, drinking in companionable silence. Then Sören said, "I wish you the very best of luck with making your bullies look like... what's the word? Chomps."
"Chumps," Anthony said with a chuckle, finding Sören's slip-up endearing.
"You'll probably look better than them, you're probably happier with your job than they are because you're not some soulless capitalist cog in a machine... one question though."
"Hm?"
Sören raised an eyebrow. "When we had coffee, you said you're not seeing anybody right now. So you're... going alone?"
"...Yeah?"
Sören pursed his lips. He stared ahead for a moment, and Anthony's stomach sank, suddenly realizing his plan had a major hole in it. Sören confirmed that by saying, "So you realize that these assholes are going to make incel jokes at you, right? Most of them are probably married or whatever."
Anthony sighed and looked down at his shoes. "...Yeah." Then his heart beat faster - here was an opportunity presenting itself. He turned to Sören. "Will you go with me? It's this weekend. I promise I'll pay for food and lodging, and -"
Sören's eyebrows shot up, he pointed to himself, mouthed the word "me?" without saying it aloud, and looked around even though there was nobody else in the studio.
"If-if-if you don't have plans," Anthony stammered, face on fire. "Like, I'm not assuming you're just available -"
Sören put up a hand, then he smiled and nodded. "I don't have any plans this weekend, or anybody in my life who would object. But wait... lodging?"
"It's in western Massachusetts, near Springfield," Anthony said. "So about a three-hour drive one way, and I don't want to do that twice in one day." Anthony bit his lower lip, hoping he wasn't coming off weird.
"Ah, OK. Well, I need to ask my friend Yeyette if she and her husband don't mind watching my cat over the weekend -"
"Of course. I'm having neighbors look in on mine."
"But I'd be happy to go with you." Sören smirked. "It'll be a treat to watch their faces. I fucking hate bullies."
"Good. Thank you so much."
Anthony gave a small sigh of relief and chugged on his water, wondering what to say or do next. But then Sören asked, "What are you wearing to the reunion?"
"A tuxedo," Anthony said. "I never do anything half-assed."
"...Oh god. That means I have to wear a tuxedo to match."
Anthony saw the distress on Sören's face, and he reflexively put a reassuring hand on Sören's arm. "If you're anxious about the fitting, I promise if anyone is shitty and transphobic to you when they're taking your measurements, I'll put the fear of God in them."
Sören laughed, reached over to put a hand on Anthony's hand and squeezed - making Anthony's cock half-hard, making Anthony glad he was wearing baggy sweatpants - and then he said, "It's not just that, though it is part of it. I fucking hate wearing formal wear. It's... very not me. And I have, ah, autistic issues with texture and..."
"Oh." Anthony's face fell. He supposed he was going to have to adjust his expectations about looking classier than his classmates.
But before he could concede to wearing something else, Sören smiled and looked into Anthony's eyes for a moment and said, "But for you, I will."
"OK, thank you." Anthony wanted to hug him again, but the urge to kiss Sören was too tempting and he didn't want to come on too strong. "When is your last class on Friday?"
"Two PM."
"So you get off before I do." Anthony's mind immediately went in the gutter of making Sören come first. He shoved that delicious thought away before he could get noticeably hard in his sweatpants, making himself think of Margaret Thatcher, an instant boner-killer. "Do you want to meet at the Starbucks again at five after I leave work, and then we go to the tuxedo rental place together?"
"Sounds good."
They finally exchanged contact info and lingered - Anthony once again restrained himself from hugging and kissing Sören - and once he was in his car and backing out of the parking lot he realized: neither of them had clarified whether it was a formal date or not. While he was relieved Sören was going with him, it might not be anything deeper than one friend helping out another. And Anthony was afraid to ask.
"Play it by ear," he muttered under his breath as he began the drive home.
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