Falling in love. Being in love. It's something I dream of, something I want to feel. As a 15-year-old teenage girl, I can attest to the fact that boys dominate most conversations between girls my age. "He's hot," or "such a cutie." He has "the bluest eyes," a "movie star smile," and he's "so sweet." They are so boy crazy! It's almost like they are in heat, and in some ways, I guess they are.

Often, when a girl has a crush on a boy her friend will dare her to speak to him or ask for a pencil, or better yet, let him know that she has a crush. Pretty risky stuff... It happens thousands of times a day in the lives of teenagers everywhere. Putting yourself out there. Daring to expose your true feelings. This is normal for teenage girls, unless you are transgender like me.

"Boys flirt and hug my friends, but they just whisk by me as if I don't exist."

The game of cat and mouse has a whole new set of rules for a girl like me. Let's face it, your average straight cis-gender teenage boy isn't going to pursue a relationship with a trans-girl. Even if he does find her attractive, it could be social suicide if he acts on his feelings. I know this, because this is my life. I don't mean to sound harsh, and I know for a fact that there are some boys who don't mind dating girls with male genitalia, but the majority won't. Boys flirt and hug my friends, but they just whisk by me as if I don't exist. Maybe they're afraid they'll get cooties, but this is high school so I doubt it's that—but it sure feels that way.

When I was in middle school the kids were really into playing truth or dare. This usually occurred in mixed gender groups. Amongst other stupid things like licking a shoe or making a prank call, there was always the dare to kiss someone. I was never that someone. Most kids would "truth" me. Then there was spin the bottle. I would literally sprint to another continent if anyone even mentioned playing that game. Unless, it was a group of trans kids…and that's a whole different story worthy of its own sitcom.

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I have a bunch of transgender friends, but they're all spread out across the country. None of them live in my state and certainly don't go to my school. I'd love to meet a cute trans-boy who will be my true love, or possibly my soul mate. However, the dating pool is less than limited, because I'm the only "out" transgender girl in my school. I feel that there are others lurking, some may be stealth, while others just aren't ready to come out.

So, I've resigned myself to the fact that it will be awhile before I experience love. I'm okay. I'm a patient person. I can wait for my prince charming. Then unexpectedly, I get a text from an old friend. Not just any friend, but a guy friend.

"I've resigned myself to the fact that is will be awhile before I experience love. I'm okay. I'm a patient person. I can wait for my prince charming."

Let me backtrack first. When I was in elementary school, fifth grade to be precise, I met a boy. He was a year younger than me. I guess you can say I was a cougar. He was really cute, with a big smile that could light up a room and long curly hair. His mom told my mom that he "liked" me—a lot. He knew I was trans, but didn't care. Our moms played matchmaker and before I could object he was my boyfriend. We held hands. We went to the fair and to the movies. We giggled a lot, and had fun on our "playdates." We peck-kissed a couple of times. It was all cute and very innocent, until the day I tried to really kiss him. My attempt turned into a total disaster. As soon as my tongue touched his lips, he pushed me away and accused me of biting him. I know my tongue isn't razor sharp, so I blamed my braces. Anyway, to make a long story short, that put an end to my innocent romance. Such a tragic way to end a relationship.

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Fast forward to the spring of 2016, I received an unexpected text from this old "boyfriend" who I had scared away. Because we were so young, I don't count him as my first real boyfriend. I wasn't even a teenager, so in my book it technically can't be taken seriously. I was so excited that he reached out to me. We laughed about our break-up over the kiss. He flirtingly insisted that I bit him and that I tried to convince him my braces were to blame. A few weeks went by where we communicated back and forth, and even FaceTimed. When his face popped up on the screen, I hardly recognized him at first. His long locks were buzzed off, his face had lost its babyish features and he had the hint of a little mustache; more peach fuzz, I guess, but it hadn't been there four years earlier. One thing that hadn't changed: his smile. Big, bright, and full of dazzle. When he told me I was gorgeous, I blushed. I was taken off guard. It felt so awkward communicating with a teenage boy. Was this really happening?

During one of our conversations he asked me on a date. I wasn't sure. After all, he was a cis-boy; but just like in the past, he didn't care. I was apprehensive. This wasn't supposed to happen to me and I was out of my comfort zone. Part of me wanted to crawl under a boulder but part of me was curious. Do I dare to leave myself vulnerable? I was afraid of getting hurt.

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But he's one of those special human beings who looks at a person through his eyes and not those of his peers. He really doesn't care what anyone thinks, and told me that if he received some slack, it didn't matter because I was worth it. How could I say no to that?

So, I took a chance, and I met him for a date at a butterfly park. Such a beautiful place for a real first date. My hands were sweating, my stomach was making horrible noises and my heart was pounding so much that I thought I was going to pass out. It didn't help that it was almost 100 degrees and I stupidly wore skinny jeans. I could tell he was nervous, too, as we awkwardly hugged. However the conversation flowed. We reminisced, played with the butterflies and laughed a lot. It was a great afternoon, and he even told me he'd like to go out again. The risk was worth the reward. I hugged him goodbye and said, "I'd like that."

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