by Emery Lee
I know these past few weeks have been hard for you, and really, I’m not your therapist, but I also know how much you need Becca right now. She’s a pillar in your life that I never had, and I’m glad, but you should know that moving away from her isn’t the end. She’ll always be your best friend, even if you’re apart, and she’ll always love you.
Just like I needed to learn to love myself again, you need to accept that being apart doesn’t mean being alone. Once you make yourself open to that, you’ll be ready to move on to the next step of your quest.
Becca’ll guide you.
Love,
Devin
By the time Becca stops the car, there are tears streaming down my cheeks. I know that once I step out, she’s gonna be heading out of my life for God only knows how long, and it hurts just to think about it.
“Do you know what’s in the note?” I ask.
She shrugs. “I didn’t read it, if that’s what you mean. That felt kind of invasive, but Devin gave me a heads-up.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, and I know she knows that, but I can’t seem to formulate any other words.
“Noah, you know I’ll always love you, right?” she says. “And I’ll always be there for you. Even if I can’t always answer the phone.”
And I nod because I know, but God, do I hate it.
We both step out of the car, and she comes around to my side to hug me again. Tears slip down my face and onto her shoulder, and I feel kind of bad about it, but this is my time to cry. I deserve this.
Finally, I pull away and say, “You better come visit me in California.”
She smiles. “Are you kidding? Hollywood girls? Santa Monica girls? I’m so there.” She kisses my cheek and adds, “You know, I’m not one to enable your poor life choices.”
That much is pretty clear.
“So, if it helps any, I don’t think Devin is a poor life choice.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Long distance never works.”
She shrugs. “Who knows. Maybe sometimes it does. Either way, you worked so hard to find an epic love this summer. It kind of seems like a waste to just throw it away, don’t you think?”
I narrow my eyes at her suspiciously, but she’s already moving back to the driver’s side of the car. She dramatically throws her arms out like a game show host announcing some brand-new car. “Finish your quest. Let me know how it turns out.”
I smile. “Obviously.”
And then she slips back into the car and drives away.
And I’m alone.
Wait.
I spin around to find I’m standing in the camp parking lot, the office staring back at me. But camp ended weeks ago, so this whole place should be empty, right?
I head toward the front office to find the lights are on inside. Pushing the door open, I expect to find Devin sitting there with a goofy grin on eir face, but instead I find Georgette, who looks bored as hell as she types something up on the computer.
Her head bounces up as I enter, and she says, “Ah, Noah. Figured you’d be around sometime soon.”
“Are you also part of Devin’s scheme?” I ask.
She smiles—maybe the first smile I’ve seen on her face—and holds a note out to me.
Noah,
Okay, almost done. Come find me where we first met. There, you’ll receive your reward.
Love,
Devin
I sigh, giving Georgette a quick wave before heading out to the rec center. Devin is literally the only person who could convince me to do this much running around without telling me why. . . .
I open the door and the lights come on, confetti and like a hundred little balloons falling from the ceiling. Oh, and Troye Sivan playing over the speakers, which is a very Devin touch.
I can’t help but laugh because it’s all pretty well thought out, except where the hell is Devin?
I take a few steps into the room, but it seems like I’m alone. I mean, there aren’t a whole lot of places to hide in here. And then I see shoes just under the long table that’s yet to be cleared from the room.
Rounding the table, I find Devin sitting on the floor, knees to chest.
“Devin?” I say.
E looks up, eyes red, and says, “Hi. Sorry.”
“Sorry?”
I sit next to em, eir breathing ragged. E’s got the Got Milk? shirt on, which makes me smile as I say, “You okay?”
“I’m sorry,” e says again. “I—I know you’re super into meet cutes, and I wanted to do something to make up for how we met, but I—”
“Devin, it’s okay,” I say, rubbing eir shoulder. “This is all really sweet. I appreciate it.”
“I’m sorry about the panic attack.”
“Please don’t be sorry about that.”
I give em a few minutes to get eir breathing under control, gently holding eir hand as e takes deep breaths. Finally, e says, “I don’t want to pressure you into something you don’t want to do, and I know you said you need space to decide on your own, but I also didn’t want to just let you walk away. I don’t think I’d ever stop regretting it.”
And looking at Devin, all I want to do is kiss em. Well, maybe not all, but it takes everything inside me to stay put. “You said yourself that long distance would be hard.”
“I know,” e says, “but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth trying, right? I mean, if you want to. I just think . . . I know it’ll be hard, but I wanted to show you that sometimes the hardest projects have the biggest payoff, and more than anything, I think we’re worth it. Don’t you?”
And God is it scary to think about having a long-distance best friend and a long-distance significant other all at the same time, but then, is it really scarier than giving up Devin, someone who made a whole scavenger hunt just to stage a meet cute to make me happy? Someone who knew exactly what I needed better than I did, and who forgave me before I ever knew how to start asking for forgiveness?
I smile, even though I can feel the tears threatening to pour out of my eyes at any minute. I wrap my arms around eir waist and lean my head against eir shoulder. “I definitely want to. I don’t want to be in a nursing home thinking about how much better my life could’ve been if you were still in it.”
Devin laughs, running eir hand up and down my back, and my grip around em tightens. I just want to hold on and never let go.
0
Step 12: The Happily Ever After
Well, it’s pretty self-explanatory.
Friday, August 3
MeetCuteDiary posted:
It all started with a summer camp.
I was pretty annoyed by the fact that I had to be there at all. I’d only gotten the job because my brother had vouched for me even though I didn’t really deserve it, and while I’d been hoping for hot guys and true love, all I was getting was lost and confused.
I stopped to ask a kid my age about the inner workings of the camp and then things went south real fast.
Basically, e barfed all over me, and I was furious because it was disgusting, but also because I’d kind of channeled all my anger at being there into this person for being the last straw.
It was only the next day after e brought me coffee that I actually saw em for the first time. And it was only recently that I started to realize how important that moment was for me. It may not have been a meet cute, or at least not a typical meet cute, but it was cute because it was the first time I met the person who changed my world for the better.
I spent all this time thinking that meet cutes were the epitome of happiness and that if I could just give them to my trans readers, I’d be saving them from the world around them. Now I realize that this Diary was always a selfish venture. About giving myself hope for a love I didn’t think I’d ever find.
But I did. So even though this Diary has been more a collection of my personal hopes than anyone’s biography, I hope this story gives hope to some of my readers too. I understand if you all want to jump ship, and no one will blame you. The fac
t of the matter is that I lied and tried to trick you all into thinking these stories were factually true, when that was never the case. Even my relationship with Drew was just a Hollywood remake.
I hope the personal truths you all found by reading this blog stay with you even if you leave the Diary behind. At the end of the day, I guess that’s what the Diary was all about anyway—reminding you all that you deserve love, and the most important thing is that you know that, no matter what comes next.
And I don’t know what this blog will be in a week or a month or a year. I barely know what it’ll be tomorrow, but as long as it can mean something to someone—as long as it can shine a little bit of light for a trans kid somewhere who has none—I’m not giving up on it. I promise.
“What am I supposed to do with these?” Devin asks, a small jar of sprinkles in hand.
I roll my eyes. “Put them on the cupcakes, obviously.”
“Ew, no, that’s gross.”
“Fine,” I say, snatching the small jar out of eir hand. “I’ll eat them.”
Devin winces. “Oh, God, Noah, please don’t make me watch that.”
My parents will be here any minute, and then they’re taking us all to dinner. They’ll spend the night at a hotel, and tomorrow morning, the three of us will be off to California. I invited Devin over to help me make cupcakes, which basically translates into Devin making cupcakes while I watch, but I just wanted something fun for us to do while we wait, preferably something that keeps our hands busy and something I can do to make my parents feel my time here was productive.
And really, Devin’s talent shines through in the lofty swirls of the frosting, and now we both get to enjoy them without my lack of skill wasting the perfectly good batter.
I’m both grateful for how perfectly Devin fits into my life, and a little bit miserable. I mean, at least if we resented each other by now, this would be a lot easier. As it stands, my final victory is getting to show em off to my parents when they get in.
“You okay?” Devin asks.
I shrug, because I hate putting my problems on em.
E raises an eyebrow and says, “Noah, please be honest with me.”
I smile. “Pass me a cupcake?”
And Devin one-ups me, holding a cupcake out for me to take a bite, and it’s sweet and perfect and I really want to kiss em, but e’s on the other side of the counter and I’m not tall enough.
“So, something interesting happened last night,” Devin says.
I raise an eyebrow. “Oh? What’s that?”
“My dad got the promotion, and he’s going to take it.”
I feel my breath catch in my throat. “Oh? Where?” My hands shake in fear e’s going to say New York, or Vermont, or London, somewhere so far it’ll be hard for us to even Skype.
Then e sticks eir finger in the cupcake frosting and lifts it so e can lick it up. “California.”
My jaw drops because that’s not only the last thing I expected em to say, but it’s more than I’d let myself get my hopes up for. “Are you serious?”
E nods. “Yeah, it’s over in San Francisco.”
And my heart deflates because San Francisco is nowhere near Los Angeles. Hell, we might as well be in different states.
“Oh,” I say.
Devin frowns. “I thought you’d be happier about that. I had to sit my parents down for a whole PowerPoint to convince them not to take the position in DC.”
And I know e’s probably jumping to some conclusion about how I’m sad because I don’t actually want to be around em, so I say, “San Francisco’s not really close. It’s not like I can convince my parents to drive me six hours up to see you.”
Devin smiles. “Noah, I have a car. I’ll come visit you.”
My eyes widen. “That far?”
E shrugs. “If you want me to.”
And of course I fucking want em to. I can’t think of anything I want more. “I’ll pay you for gas,” I say. Not that I’ll have a job, but I’m sure the Bank of Mom and Dad can figure something out. Besides, I actually managed to save some money—words I never thought I would say—from camp, so I might as well spend it on cute dates with Devin since I won’t need it to inspire Diary content anymore.
E smiles. “Don’t worry about it. I just want to be able to see you.”
My phone vibrates, and I assume it’s Brian, who said he’d be back in an hour, you know, hopefully before our parents get here. I look at the screen and see it’s actually a Tumblr DM, which, fucking great.
Now that I’ve officially cut Drew out of every corner of my life, I finally made a post apologizing to the Diary for all my lies and all the other BS I’d put out back when I thought I actually knew a thing about love.
But I didn’t stick around to hear people’s responses. Honestly, I don’t even know what the Diary should be anymore. It feels disingenuous to keep posting fake stories, but I don’t want to make my relationship with Devin super public ether. A part of me keeps playing Drew’s voice on repeat as he said it was my fault we broke up because I let the Diary get in between us. I know we were doomed to fail all along, but if the Diary really was a part of it, there’s no way I’m letting that mess with my relationship with Devin.
Besides, at the end of the day, the Diary’s about trans people and rekindling their hope for love. I don’t want it to be about me. I want it to be about them.
But still, it leaves me at a loss. The Diary’s important, but if I want it to help young trans people the same way Devin’s coming out helped me, I don’t feel like I’m the best person to manage it anymore. I lost my readers’ trust, and I don’t know how to gain it back. When I last talked to Becca about it, she said she might be able to take over for a while, but I feel like it should be run by a trans author. That, and Becca’s writing fucking sucks.
The message is long, and I consider just ignoring it, but finally, I suck it up and read:
Dear Noah,
You don’t know me, but I’ve been an avid follower of the Meet Cute Diary for some time now. I’m a trans girl living in Wisconsin, and I’ve been dating my boyfriend for almost two years. We first met when my parents’ car broke down and we had to hitchhike our way to a rest stop. Anyway, it’s a really cute story, and I’d love to share it on the Diary, but I’d rather have it credited to my account than posted anonymously. After seeing you share your own story publicly, I think it would mean a lot more that way. Is that something I can do? Please let me know!
I freeze, my eyes roving over the screen again as I reread the message.
“What’s up?” Devin asks.
I pass em the phone and watch as e scans the screen quickly. “Wow, that’s pretty cool. You’ve never gotten a submission request before?”
I shake my head. It’s funny because this is what the Diary is supposed to be, but it got lost in all the fake stories and my own ego.
“You should publish it,” Devin says, sticking a cupcake in eir mouth.
I should publish it. It’s everything the Diary needs to stop being some pipe dream of mine and become a real staple of the trans community.
Okay, maybe not everything, but it’s definitely a start, which I guess is all I can really ask for.
“I’ll have to message her back and tell her how to submit,” I say, scrolling through her blog to get a feel for her.
“Are you going to open up submissions to other people too?”
I should, but what are the odds that anyone else is going to submit? I published hundreds of fake meet cutes because I was so certain the only way trans people would feel represented was if I made them up. But maybe there are meet cutes for more of us after all. Hell, maybe it doesn’t end with meet cutes, like Becca said, and there’s whole worlds of possibilities for trans love stories.
Maybe it’s time I let people tell their own stories for real.
Devin passes me another cupcake, and I take it, relishing the sweetness of it all. Our story may not be conventional, but it’s so much better than
I ever thought it could be. I can only hope that what everyone else brings to the Diary will be enough to carry it forward, to make it something so powerful and important to the community that it won’t matter what any trolls have to say.
And looking at Devin, I feel some of the tension dropping out of my shoulders. Maybe the biggest mistake I made this summer was trying to steer everything when the wind probably knows what’s best without my meddling. It’s time I take a step back from the Diary and let it run its course.
I’ve given my followers all the happily ever afters they need from me, so it’s time for me to have my own.
Friday, August 10
MeetCuteDiary posted:
Hey, everyone! We’re officially open for Diary submissions. If you’d like to submit anonymously, you can do so by going on anonymous and sending us an ask. If you want your name credited to your story, please include what you’d like to be addressed as and your blog address in the ask or shoot us an email (the address is in our bio)!
Thanks!
Mod Becca
“Can you see me?”
“I can see you.”
“Hold on.”
The Wi-Fi’s been spotty since we got to the new house, so trying to host an actual Skype call is a nightmare. All I’ve got are two black boxes and some patchy audio.
Finally, the images come through—Becca, sitting on her bed with Noodles in her lap, and Devin sitting on the floor of eir room, boxes piled high behind em.
“Hello, beautiful people,” I say.
Becca rolls her eyes. “Stop flirting with me, Ramirez. Your lover’s gonna get jealous.”
Devin laughs. “It’s all right. You’re across the country. I’m not too worried about that competition.”
“Okay, enough,” I say. “This is the first official Meet Cute Diary staff meeting. Let’s be serious.”
But I knew this wasn’t going to be serious.
After I opened submissions on the Diary, it only made sense to recruit Devin and Becca to help me curate them. I mean, they’re both already pretty invested in the Diary and, more importantly, me, so it’s not like they could say no.