Sören fidgeted in his seat at Starbucks and kept checking his phone to see the time, even though he'd shown up an hour early.
It was the beginning of October. The FetLife user known as fortunate_son had gotten back to his message after two weeks of Sören thinking he'd just been ignored, and they'd been chatting every day since then. For safety reasons, they were using assumed names till they'd met in-person and done the vibe check - fortunate_son was calling himself Chris, and Sören went with Jon. They also hadn't shared photos of themselves - in Sören's case he had a YouTube channel and an Instagram, so he could easily be doxed, and "Chris" also had privacy concerns about posting photos online. Indeed, "Chris" hadn't even wanted a physical description, saying that personality mattered to him more than looks.
They had only decided formally to meet a couple of days ago. They avoided discussing their jobs - again, Sören knew disclosing what he did for a living was the fast track to doxing if things went badly, and he had a lot of concerns about that once "Chris" found out he was transgender, which Sören wasn't planning on disclosing till they'd met. But they'd had conversations about lots of other things, like news and politics, places they'd been, music they enjoyed, books and TV shows. Sören and "Chris" both had Star Trek: The Next Generation as a favorite TV show... and a mutual crush on William Riker.
I've always wanted a boyfriend who shares my Riker thirst, Sören had quipped.
OK, I'm sold, let's meet up and see where this goes, "Chris" had replied. But something casual, not a date, this first time.
No, not a date. It's a raisin, Sören messaged back.
And so here Sören was, waiting for "Chris" at Starbucks. Though they still didn't know what the other looked like, they had discussed what outfits they'd be wearing for the meeting, for the sake of being able to recognize each other; "Chris" had glasses and was going to wear a Pink Floyd Dark Side of the Moon T-shirt, and Sören informed him he would be wearing a Three Wolf Moon shirt and would also be bringing along Emotional Support Chicken - a rubber chicken with an orange service animal vest - due to his anxiety with crowds.
Sören also had anxiety with wrangling a cab. He briefly considered asking Mark to bring him to Starbucks, since it was a Sunday and Mark took Sundays and Mondays off, but Mark's truck wasn't there, and Sören felt sheepish about asking Mark to drive him to not-a-date and the potential awkwardness of sharing his personal business.
It was a pleasant fall day with mild temperatures, sunshine and a gentle breeze. Sören sat at an outside table under one of the umbrellas, drinking an iced pumpkin spice latte. Just as Sören reached for his phone again to check the time, even though he'd just checked it a moment ago, suddenly out of the corner of his eye he saw a familiar face coming in from the parking lot - it was Mark.
Mark's eyes met Sören's and he raised a hand in greeting. He walked over and paused. "Hi," Mark said.
"Hi," Sören said.
Then he noticed what Mark was wearing. A Pink Floyd shirt, with the rainbow through the pyramid prism. And Mark wore his usual wire-rim glasses.
Mark's eyes glanced down at Sören's Three Wolf Moon shirt, and then over at Emotional Support Chicken.
"Hiiiiii," Mark said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Mark raised an eyebrow. "You're Jon, right?"
Sören gave a nervous laugh, facepalmed and nodded. "I do know slightly more than nothing, though... I know you're Chris."
Mark also laughed, turning pink, and then he said, "You got me. Uh, hi."
"Hi."
"Hi."
"Hi."
"Hi."
"Hi."
"Hi."
"Hi."
"Hi." Mark gestured at the table and Sören nodded; Mark pulled out a chair and sat down.
"So, this is..." Sören gave another nervous laugh. "Awkward as fuck."
"Yeah."
"Yeah."
"Yeah."
"Yeah."
Sören nodded, and Mark nodded, and they kept nodding. Sören wanted to crawl under the table and die. Instead, he reached for Emotional Support Chicken and gave it a squeeze, making it honk. Mark laughed, and Sören tried not to notice how gorgeous Mark was when he smiled.
Sören liked Mark, a lot, and he'd also gotten quite fond of "Chris" aka fortunate_son after the last two weeks. Realizing they were one and the same person... Sören's heart beat a little faster and he felt his stomach flutter. But he also felt the pit of his stomach rising, because Mark knew he was transgender and he hadn't disclosed that to "Chris", preferring to wait till they'd met and done the vibe check.
"So, um..." Mark glanced at the shop, and then back at Sören. "You want a refill on that? I'm gonna go in and get myself a coffee."
"Sure. It's an iced pumpkin spice latte with whip." Sören pulled out his wallet and Mark dismissively waved his hand.
"My treat," Mark said, and gave Sören a smile before he went inside.
There was only one door in the Starbucks, so Sören didn't have to worry Mark was going inside to do the "ghosting by leaving through the back door" game, but even so as Mark went in to get his drink order, Sören felt a wave of anxious nausea come over him, preparing to be rejected. He fought the impulse to take off himself, going across the plaza to the supermarket and waiting for a cab there.
Mark came back with what appeared to be two iced pumpkin spice lattes, and he took his seat across from Sören. "Takk," Sören said as Mark handed him his drink.
There was a long, extremely awkward and painful silence as they sipped their drinks, and when Mark was about halfway through his, he finally leaned back and said, "Does he have a name?" He pointed at Emotional Support Chicken.
He didn't, but Sören invented one off the cuff. "Sir Nigel Wilberforce Eggs-Benedict."
Mark turned beetroot and laughed a little too heartily, like this was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. Sören laughed too, feeling completely ridiculous.
"Well, at least you didn't name your rubber chicken after Riker," Mark said, taking a sip of his drink.
"No. Cos I mean, that would be a little too kinky, even for me."
Mark almost spat his drink. He put it down and laughed harder. "Jesus."
Just to make it worse, Sören picked up the rubber chicken, pet it, and pretended to make out with it. He did an imitation of Tim Curry as Frank N Furter. "Oh... RIKER."
Now other people sitting at the outdoor tables were staring at them, and Sören's face was burning and he once again felt the urge to bolt, but Mark was in hysterics and Sören was glad he made Mark laugh.
"I needed that," Mark said, taking off his glasses and wiping his eyes. "I've been keyed up all day."
"Me too," Sören said, nodding.
Mark nodded, and they started just nodding and nodding again.
Then Mark gave another nervous laugh. "I'm really bad at this, sorry."
Sören had to go there to try to defuse tension some more. "Hi Really Bad At This Sorry, I'm Dad."
Mark laughed harder.
"So, ah. Um." Sören looked around. "Uh." He didn't know what to say. "Yeah."
"Yeah."
"Yup."
"Mhm."
Sören gave the rubber chicken another squeak. Then he gestured at Mark. "Well, now you know. This is... not what I was expecting."
"Neither was I," Mark said.
"Kind of awkward to know what your next-door neighbor is secretly into."
"Kind of, yeah."
They started nodding again and Sören checked the time on his phone, even though he didn't need to - it was something to do with his hands, since he hadn't brought a fidget spinner with him. "I feel like I wasted your time and I'm sorry -"
Mark put up a hand. "You didn't."
"No?"
"No."
Sören and Mark finished their drinks, Sören squeaked the rubber chicken again, and then Mark looked around. This wasn't the busiest the Starbucks had ever been, but they were definitely not alone. "Since you've been in my truck with me before and you know I'm not a serial killer or anything, you want to go someplace less crowded to talk about... this?" Mark asked.
"Please," Sören said, feeling a wave of relief, realizing part of what was getting in the way of making conversation was the intensely personal nature of why they'd chosen to meet here, and not really wanting to address that subject in public.
Sören followed Mark out to his truck. Mark helped Sören into the front seat - Sören's body tingled at Mark's touch, even as he told himself don't get your hopes up, he's probably going to reject you.
Mark drove them to Winchester Pond - it had been named long before Supernatural was a show, and locals made jokes about it. The leaves were just starting to turn, with red and gold mixing among the green, and there were still some ducks and geese around. They got out of the truck and sat on a bench together, not closely, but not far either.
"I hope you're not mad that I didn't tell you I was trans when we were talking on FetLife," Sören said.
Mark shook his head. "To be honest, I was expecting someone cis, because there's an option to put FTM in your profile and yours clearly didn't have that. But I'm not upset you didn't tell me, no."
Sören nodded. "I used to have it set to FTM, and that usually means I get rejected right off the bat, even by other trans guys, so I decided to just set it to Male and maybe if the guy got to know me first, he'd be OK with it. Plus, with the way things are going in this country, I don't know if it's safe to disclose that right away anymore - someone might pretend they want to go on a date with me, and they're out to kill or beat up a trans person."
"Yeah. Makes sense."
"But I'm guessing that even though you have a trans brother, it's a dealbreaker -"
"No," Mark said. "It's not. Just because I assumed 'Jon' was cis, doesn't mean that. You know."
Sören exhaled. He wasn't expecting that. He had been bracing himself for rejection - and realizing that it would be a disappointment to him - and now he had to re-evaluate. He hadn't really had expectations of what would happen with "Chris", but now...
"There's also this." Sören gestured to his cane, and tapped one of his elbow braces and then one of his knee braces. "A lot of people who say 'disability rights' still don't want to date a disabled person, especially one older than forty, because they're turned off or they think we want them to be our caretaker, or..."
"Yeah, I get it, but that's not an automatic dealbreaker either." Mark sighed and turned to face him. "OK. Just to let you know, so you can make an informed decision about... stuff. It's been a long time since I've had a relationship with anyone. My brother told me I need to get laid, it's been awhile, and I decided it couldn't hurt to find someone who's... um... compatible with my particular needs."
Sören nodded.
"We can see where this goes if you want to," Mark said. "I like what I know of you, I think you're cute..."
Sören's face burned. He heard himself let out a squeak and he clapped his hand over his mouth, feeling like an idiot. He thinks I'm cute. Sören got the mental image of Rudolph from the old Rankin-Bass cartoon, flying. He thinks I'm cuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuute!
"But I'm kind of a hot mess," Mark added. "So I'm gonna be real with you up-front. Everyone knows the jokes about the 'U-Haul lesbians' who move in together after the first or second date, and since same-sex marriage got legalized nationwide there's been a lot of gay guys doing this too. I was in an abusive relationship, I still have trauma from that, and I have concerns about moving too fast because that's more often than not a red flag and a good way to get stuck in a bad situation."
"I agree," Sören said, "and same. I was married to a guy, before I transitioned, he didn't know I wasn't a girl, and it was... it was not good. He was... a total piece of shit. Verbally, physically, sexually abusive. I've only dated women since then, though after my last breakup I got really honest with myself about that not being what I wanted, I just dated women because most of the people who've been attracted to me over the years have been cis women, I tend to get rejected by men especially since I came out as trans, so that was who was available even though I'm not really attracted to women, I just didn't want to be alone... and I thought it was safer, but my last girlfriend was emotionally abusive and she cheated on me, so just because a woman might not be physically stronger doesn't mean she isn't capable of being shitty."
Mark nodded. "I'm sorry you went through that."
"I'm sorry you went through that too."
There was another long pause - this time less awkward, and warmer - and Mark added, "I'm also an introvert. Music is my life. My brother jokes that I'm married to my harp. We could see each other once a week to every couple weeks but I don't really have the kind of mental bandwidth for people to be attached at the hip to a partner every day."
"That's OK with me," Sören said. "I'm a creature of habit and I've been single almost three years, long enough that I'm not sure how I would work someone into my life every day."
"OK. So long as you understand we're not seeing each other every day and I don't want to do the living together and marriage thing..."
"I understand."
"All right." Mark looked around - it was just them at the pond right now, but they both knew that could change any time, on a Sunday afternoon during fall foliage season. "For the rest of the stuff... the reason why we're here and started talking to each other, I'd rather have that discussion privately at my place. But not tonight - I told my brother I'd be out for a few hours but not longer than that. He's not expecting company, and I don't want to impose on him."
"That's fine. What about tomorrow? Not trying to start the 'seeing you every day' thing but so we're not leaving this open too long and getting antsy."
"Tomorrow evening works for me if it works for you," Mark said. "We can continue to see how we vibe - hopefully by tomorrow we'll both have relaxed some - and..." He lowered his voice. "We can discuss kink negotiations."
Sören couldn't believe this was happening. He was still nervous - even with them agreeing up-front they were moving at a slower, more casual pace, there was still room for stuff to go wrong, which would be bad enough on its own but seemed disastrous with a neighbor, yet there was no way to really put those worms back in the can. And he was also excited, feeling like a flustered, giggly, horny teenager again. It not only wasn't an automatic rejection, but they'd gotten far enough where Mark was agreeing to discuss what they'd signed up for - a Daddy/boy relationship - tomorrow.
"OK," Sören said.
"OK." Mark grinned.
"OK."
"OK."
"OK."
"OK."
"OK."
"OK."
"All right."
"All right."
"All right."
"All right."
Sören suddenly had an earworm of "Hey Ya!" by Outkast, and apparently Mark did too, because in unison they both blurted out, "All right, all right, all right, all right, all right, all right, all right, all right. All right, all right, all right, all right, all right, all right."
"Oh my god." Sören double facepalmed, heaving with laughter. "Wow, we're cheeseballs."
"They didn't have a dorksexual orientation on FetLife or I would have put that."
Sören's laughter echoed across the pond. "That's cooler than being cool."
"It's ice cold."
Sören snickered. "How the fuck old were you when that song came out, anyway?" He did the mental math - "Hey Ya!" came out in 2004. "Nine? Jesus Christ." He felt like an old man robbing the cradle.
Mark gave an innocent whistle and stared out at the pond.
Mark brought Sören home - they took a detour to the soft-serve ice cream stand for the last weekend of the year it would be open, and Sören got a vanilla cone with rainbow sprinkles; Mark got plain chocolate. Sören tried not to notice the way Mark licked his ice cream, wondering what else he could do with that tongue.
As they pulled in to the duplex, Mark said, "So you want to come over at seven tomorrow for dinner and to hang out a bit? No sleeping over this time, and I'll need you to go home by midnight because I have to work on Tuesday."
"That works for me." Sören nodded.
"Do you have any food allergies or sensitivities or anything?"
"Not that I'm aware of."
"OK. I was thinking we could get Chinese and watch something. Next Gen, maybe."
"I'd like that."
"Cool. Or should I say... ice cold."
Sören snickered. Then, before he opened his door, he paused and said, "Well, um, thanks for coffee and the ice cream."
"You're welcome."
"And thanks for... you know. Not rejecting me right away."
Mark smirked. "Same."
"Well... you have less that's an automatic dealbreaker for people," Sören said. "You're cis, you're able-bodied, you're -"
"A huge fucking dork," Mark said. His smirk became a grin. "Who likes dorks."
Sören grinned back. "All right."
"All right."
They started up again. "All right, all right, all right, all right, all right, all right, all right, all right. All right, all right, all right, all right, all right, all right."
They lingered - Sören thought about asking him for a hug or leaning in to give him a kiss on the cheek but he didn't know if that would be too forward, since they were still in the "wait and see" phase. But then Mark moved in closer and said, "You have ice cream on your nose." He licked it off and then he kissed the tip of Sören's nose.
The minute Sören got inside, he covered his mouth with his hands and let out a little scream.
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