Nolan has been staring at his phone for the better part of an hour. Another match. His stomach twists with a familiar mix of hope and dread.
Three years ago, he came out as transgender. Top surgery followed six months later—one of the best decisions of his life, though it drained most of his savings. But bottom surgery? The cost was astronomical, and honestly, the fear of complications kept him up at night. He'd made peace with his body, mostly. What he couldn't make peace with was the pattern that had become all too familiar.
Match. Chat. Flirt. Exchange photos. Then the inevitable question: So, have you had surgery? Or worse, he'd bring it up first, trying to get ahead of it. Either way, the response was always the same. A pause. Then a polite but cold message: I don't think this will work out. The unspoken words hung in the air: Not like that.
Nolan had stopped counting how many times it happened. Twenty? Thirty?
But something about Honey's profile felt different. His conversation had been genuine, curious about him—his thoughts, his day, what made him laugh. Not just his looks, though Nolan appreciated that Honey seemed interested in that too.
His fingers hover over the keyboard. He takes a breath. Maybe this time would be different. Maybe Honey would be one of the ones who understood that being a man wasn't about what he was born with. That his identity was real, valid, and worth loving.
Hey,
Nolan types carefully, I've been burned a lot by dating apps, so I'm just gonna be upfront about something. I'm a trans guy—had top surgery, but not bottom. I know that's a dealbreaker for some people, and honestly? I'd rather you know now than waste your time or mine. But if you're still interested in talking, I'd really like that.
He hovers his thumb over send, heart pounding. The cursor blinks mockingly.
Just send it, he tells himself. Just be honest.
He hits send.
His phone immediately shows: Honey is typing...
