I kept the sordid details of these excursions from Ralph, but he was aware of their outlines and noticed the ramp-up in the sexiness of my outfits. While he tolerated seeing me in makeup and women’s clothes, and we even went out in public that way, he wanted me to appear as a man if we were seeing people he knew. I agreed to lay off the makeup when we went to Ovid, New York, an upstate town where Ralph’s grad school friend Chris lived with his partner, Joe, in a big farmhouse, along with several polydactyl cats who jumped and clung to the screen door whenever they wanted to get back in the house. It was a wonderfully cozy time, the landscape white as far as the eye could see, hearty dinner by the fire with chosen family. I was once again reminded of what that quiet, settled life could be like, and how a part of me wanted that with Ralph.

But my fantasies began to fill again as we made our way back to Boston, not just the men but the new choices, the daily mundane discoveries, whether conversations in women’s rooms or taking dance classes as a woman and not being criticized for being too feminine, then going to the bars at night and getting drinks for free. It was as if an entire world that had been kept from me was suddenly available, and all I needed to do was modify how I looked.

Though what I couldn’t explain, even to myself, was how increasingly intolerable I found the idea of presenting myself as a man, which began to feel like withholding the best parts of me. Not only was I uglier as a man, but I was also more nerdy and a lot less fun. Being a woman gave me access to an entire gamut of behaviors I never knew were inside me, from my breezy manner to the way I toyed with men who underestimated me, baited them by pretending I was just a dumb blonde and then asking them leading questions about French literature or evolutionary biology.

The week after we got back from Thanksgiving, the graduate students in Ralph’s department organized a holiday party in someone’s apartment, and the two of us planned to go.

“I hope you dress appropriately,” Ralph told me over the phone before he got home.

I knew what he meant—dress as a man—but I hoped to mollify him by wearing something elegant, a black silk blouse and pencil skirt with a rose tastefully embroidered near the hem. I wore my long hair down with just eyeliner and red lipstick that had a golden sheen.