“She fell out of love with me,” he said.

“That’s cold.”

“No, it’s fine,” Christopher said. “I mean, it was awful, and it dragged out too long. But she didn’t have the guts to leave me. And I wanted to believe she still loved me. It happens all the time.”

“I see.”

“Not that I’d know, I guess,” he added. “The sample size is n equals one, as they say.”

“Dating blows. You didn’t miss much. How’d you meet?”

He hesitated. “Speed dating.”

“What? That still exists?”

“It was in Fort Garry.” He laughed. “It wasn’t even at a bar or anything; it was so awkward. But we ended up liking each other. They give you a little piece of paper and they call you up if you marked each other as a match. We went on one date afterward, and then it was just normal.”

“No shit.”

“Did you ever date girls, too?” he asked. “I mean, after you—after you—”

It never failed to amaze me, in a fond, quiet way, how boys could touch and fuck a transsexual body, and then stammer their way through any implication of how that body got there. I don’t know why I have a soft spot for that, but I do.

“I’ve never dated a woman,” I said. “Except in high school, once. I hooked up with girls a few times and it was fun. I’ve never really dated men, either, to be honest. I haven’t had many relationships as an adult, period.” Any relationships, I didn’t say.

We lay there in the moonlight. I’d never felt so calm. I felt like the first thirty years of my life were slipping into place and closing. We were very quiet for a while, but he wasn’t sleeping.

“What I can tell you,” I said, “is the first time I slept with a man. It was right after I moved to Toronto. I wasn’t in a good place. I worked with this boy, and I lived in a shithole just east of downtown. Even today it’s a rough corner. Anyway. This boy, Will, he asked if I wanted to hang out. Twice, I went over to his house and we watched TV, got drunk. We talked long into the night. Both times I expected—like, I thought: He’s hitting on me, right? This is how this works, this is how it ends up, right? But then around one, two a.m., he’d say, all abrupt, that he had to get to sleep, had to get up early for work, see ya. I’d think, I work at the same place, bitch! But whatever. The third time I go over, Will says he’s gonna make tacos and he’s got a two-six of whisky. I brought a six-pack. And right away he says he broke up with his girlfriend the weekend before, so he’s all emotional. I was like, Ah, okay, here we go. He put bacon in the tacos. I told him to eat some of the spare bacon and take a shot. We called them bacon chasers. I have a picture of me, still, that he took that night. I’ve got a flip phone and I’m wearing this ridiculous scarf. I look mad for some reason. But I was really happy.