Before I went to college, I was closeted. I barely count those eighteen years as part of life. Why would I? That wasn't me — not really. The most interesting places I've lived — Zambia, South Africa, London — happened during that time, and those experiences were wasted on someone with no cognizance, no words yet. In high school, the only person I knew who was like me was a punk — a mean lesbian with spike collars and pink hair. She teased me outside the lunchroom. I know she had to be tough — ours was a private Christian school with 200 students, and she was out.

In time, she softened. She said hey to me. Then she graduated and disappeared. A few years later, I learned that she transitioned. Dae found his truth, came out as transgender and found his queer family in a city not far from there. We are still friends today. While our journeys are different, we both more or less found the things we needed — the right words to call ourselves, the chosen families we belonged in — at the same time. Dae has become a remarkably handsome man, and in many ways, he was my first sign that others were out there — back when I simply knew I was "other" and that was all I had.

Other sexy trans men came later — casual hookups and kinky playmates — who taught me some of my most important lessons about being queer. Here are some of them.

Editor's note: For consistency, he/him/his are used to reference trans men in this article. Always ask for a person's preferred pronouns at the beginning of conversations.