I hastily put on the cowboy boots, as the cigarette boxes get passed around along with a blunt, who I’m not sure who it belongs to. But then in such surreal places after coming from a posh background, nothing seems eternal or impossible. Old money is the one that stays constant until it runs out, but the swollen pride is eternal with the last pieces of jewellery. I put inside my boot the photo of Alison, I’ve always put in, way before I even started doing drag.

I put on the red lipstick and then I start overtracing my lips, as I get elbowed to pass on the baking powder along with the contour stick. We’re all short on time, even if we go one by one. It feels like a very brief eternity, while we all stand with cigarette smoke around us. Some have already done coke after their performance, using the flyers to some cruising bar.

I tended to stay away from all drugs, but alcohol was a weakness of mine, too many memories of wine bottles enough for me to get into a dance with vodka by the end of the night, when I’d be done and then I’d find some guy to sleep with.

There were too many things to make it handy. It all started by trying to find some family which would accept a trans guy and finding it among drag queens who believed very often that cocks meant male was bizarre, but they still saw me as a man in drag by the end of the night with laughter and smeared lipstick.

It’s strange how much can a few photos can get you through to many names, connections and all. Maybe some begging and stalking, I looked at Mint, the drag queen, who was the star of us all and was the closing act, because without her, no one would’ve even looked at us twice. I still wondered why she preferred these shabby places.

“Dearie.” She addressed me once. My drag mother. “Drag should stay underground, it should stay surreal, like a John Waters movie, we should all be surrounded by filth and the glamour of Showgirls, but with a lot less budget. There’s no Dale from Twin Peaks either.”

She made an effort to show up to charity, that’s how I had met her. She went to a LGBT group once, seeing me back when I was a teenager and seeing a rather chubby guy, who looked like he would look terrible in drag, listened to me, nearly crying that I couldn’t transition under a certain roof which no longer belonged to me and I packed my bags the day I struck 19 and left. I weighted everything and then I went under Mint’s wing. She taught me drag, that was her only condition, even if I insisted that no one would want to see a trans man in drag, I knew how nasty the community was to anyone who freaking didn’t have a dick. But she’d actually fist fight anyone, right after tearing off the wig, if it were possible, saying that women wouldn’t fist fight. Mint was who she escaped to be.

Mint wasn’t too confident in my outfit for today, but she just raised her brows, feathers falling out of her boa and watching me, smoking a cigarette. Or was it her turn to smoke the shared blunt?

I was next and my legs started shaking.

Walking on stage meant that the room would quiet down for me and I would see who would enter, I would see who would leave. I remember getting told that once you leave the stage, you realize that it had all been a dream, a fantastic hallucination, which happened to be true somehow. But I was still midway through my act, which filled with fear, obscure references coming from my background, which still made people laugh, as I would make sure to convey them and after every gig I would shuffle a deck of cards, just to cure my anxiety, recalling my young days when fortune telling was the sort of thing you’d grow up on. I would always wonder if I had managed to rush through my performance, but no matter how much time passed, Mint would watch it or listen carefully through the haze and cigarettes to make sure I sounded okay, because I always asked how was I.

She’d kiss me on the forehead.

Sometimes I wondered if in some distant world we had slept together, but she seemed too much of a mother figure even if it were only a few years which had separated us. Mint seemed to have her own different taste in men, but I never felt excluded, just that I wasn’t her age and she tended to go for men her own age. But I would be lying if I said that growing up with her, I didn’t look at her in awe, at all of her transformations and how she held my chin high with lipstick for the first time in a while on my lips.

“Drag is art. Nothing feminine at times. It’s a caricature of life. It’s a middle finger to all of us, we dictate our rules and ridicule them at the same time. You’re a man. Underneath it all, it’s your bones and your soul. You were born a man and will forever be it and no flesh can change that.” She had told me and that was when I realized that I had a tremendous crush on Mint and at the same time, that she was like a mother, a father, a parent to me, someone who held me close and listened to all the boys and girls who had broken my heart.

She loathed the state of drag now, so we were outcasts in something which was supposed to be outcast enough already. The show venues were filled to the brim, just to see her sing, play and insult the entire room, yet build the confidence we all lacked, even Mint herself did.

I remember one night I had caught her crying, photos spread all around her, nearly in a circle. She was out of drag there, a man next to her of her age and I could see that as the photos progressed so did their ages.

“He was my one true love.” Mint had confessed, later next morning, as we sat in her kitchen and she had poured me some milk to later get some cereal for. Her apartment was small and cramped, yet she enjoyed it and I slept in a spare room, which was probably supposed to be for children with dinosaur walls. I barely minded, it seemed to give me a childhood I never had. “I’m sorry dear, that you had to see me like that.”

Before I could even shake my head or react, she raised her hand.

Mint, was out of drag and that’s when she spoke with her point brief.

“Never settle for anyone who won’t love how you view life.” She paused, looked down. “Your parents didn’t love you for being transgender. He didn’t love me for my love of performance, for my desire to ridicule life. You can say… what is there in common? Because every problem, every speck is worth something significant and where that significance is… Is where the point of life is hidden, under a big, flat rock for some Japanese guy to flip over, when it’s time for us to go see death and leave.”

I later learned that she referenced to Kafka on the Shore. I didn’t know whether she meant to remain with death or come back just like Kafka did, but I never asked. Instead I saw a scar once on her arm and never questioned it, knowing, soon enough she got it covered by a tattoo. Maybe because I had seen it and she didn’t want me to see her as an imperfect mother.

I shuffled the cards, once, twice and I left the club during the performance by Michelle, right before Mint’s and smoked outside just to see the person who had left midway my performance. I felt like a puffed up pigeon. But they seemed to ignore me. It was hard to determine someone’s gender at times and I was in cowboy boots after all with a full face of make up and years after starting testosterone. Both me and Mint loathed the queens who lasered their body hair, wearing it as an act of pride. Out of drag, Mint was a proper bear and would go to such bars and once drag became mainstream she seemed to be more accepted by them, so she didn’t bother anymore.

But I knew that she had still loved him.

Every one night stand, she would shoo off the poor guys out.

She would smoke with me and describe me in detail what they had done to each other, just to detach herself from the act and make it pure sex. Eventually I picked up on her smoking habit.

The person just stood there, not moving, checking their phone and with violet eyeshadow and gloss, hair in a messy ponytail, barely touching their cigarette. I approached them and yet, they made no movement. I kept observing. I looked at them from head to toe. A rather bright highlighter was on their dark cheeks and it hadn’t dimmed down by the night, I even noticed it when they were leaving. Small venues made everything person. They raised their light eyes on me, contacts, I assumed and nodded, as if asking how could they help.

“I just got curious… You left midway-”

“I’m not here for Mint, if that’s what you’re asking.”

That was new.

“Wanted to see what Mint’s drag daughter was all about.”

“Yet, you left.” I remarked and they just shrugged, smoking their cigarette now and putting the phone in the back pocket of their jeans. “So, I failed the mark.”

“No, no. I just needed…” They pulled the phone out again and messages kept popping up, as they unlocked the phone. “Some time. I will come next time, you know. You’re a regular. What’s stopping me from seeing you next Saturday?”

I didn’t know what to answer. They smirked and pulled on their hair, giving out a small smile, now looking at me. I wondered why, I had been Mint’s drag daughter and performing for a while now. I smoked my own cigarette in silence, as they watched me back.

Mint was heartbroken so she would tell me to never take love for granted and would kick every single man outside after fucking, and it’s not like I hadn’t fucked someone after a drag show. Usually I would ask for some time to remove it all, I never liked people fucking the fantasy of me, because it somehow reminded me of how I had lost my virginity, and that was a performance too. I wanted them to see my body with all its glory and self-hate, the dysphoria I would feel at times even if my chest was dealt with and I’ve decided to avoid bottom surgery for now. I wanted to feel the kisses down my chest and I preferred to be fucked in my front hole, anyway. I felt weird, because trans guys were very often cookie cutter. But so were drag queens these days.

I couldn’t take anyone for granted.

But I wanted to.

This person with the violet eyeshadow just decided to see me. Somehow, in the middle of spring.

“It’s my birthday soon.” And started replying to texts. They scratched the tip of their nose, nervous. “I’ve seen some videos of you on YouTube.”

For a second, I was scared someone had filmed me for PornHub or something without me knowing.

“You seemed cool.”

We stood there still.

“Wanna celebrate a birthday with someone who doesn’t have anyone to celebrate with?”

“You walked out of my show.”

“Just because at midnight, I wanted to be alone and face my age. That was the only time I wanted to be alone in a while.” They shrugged, I just nodded, wondering how the fuck would I be celebrating my own soon approaching anniversary. Probably with Mint, like any other time, both of us whining. I had tried girls, I had tried boys, I had tried many people of all genders and no one stuck. I was queer and I was drawn to people all together. It was something only Mint knew.

“Well then…” I paused. “Is it your birthday, yet?”

“Yeah-”

“When were you born?”

“Five a.m., why?”

“That’s when we’ll really celebrate. I’m Russian. That’s when it all starts.” I gave out a grin to the birthday person. They shrugged, a small smile playing on their lips, as if they had gotten a glimpse of the birthday cake before the candles had even been put in. I had never been asked by someone like that to celebrate my birthday with them.

“It is your anniversary?” They ask cautiously and curiously.

“Yeah.” I nodded.

“I’ll be hitting a milestone myself in a month or so.” I was frankly baffled, by the small sign of affection. “Do you want me to be in drag or-?”

“I can pay-” I laughed them off, not even allowing them to continue.

“I’m no hooker. I just want to know what the birthday… birthdee? Wants.” I smiled. They seemed pleased that I didn’t gender them and I was happy myself. “What’s your name?”

They stayed silent, probably thinking of something to say.

“V?” They looked at me confused. I shrugged. “You have violet eyeshadow, so I figured… why not keep it simple and decide on something like that. You’ll never know the name my parents gave me either. It’s a fair trade.”

“Is it that noticeable that I have no name as of now?” V smirks. I laugh just slightly, more like one single breath and nod.

“I’ve been there. Mint helped me with everything.” I paused. “So… nothing personal?”

“On the opposite… I want you to know everything by the end of the night. I want it to be personal, for once and then just… go.” I nodded.

“Whatever the birthday person wants, V.” I say and I start taking off my wig, slowly, revealing the cap, which is hiding my chin length black hair. They look surprised. “What? Never seen a drag queen without a wig? Mint would kill me if I took you backstage, her Achille’s heel. An annoyance to her powerful being.”

We both laugh and I can still feel how nervous and awkward V feels. I put my hand on their shoulder and we both silent for a while, as I wonder if I should let my hand travel to their cheek, just for the sake of tonight, but instead I pat it a bit too strong, to which V takes my hand and holds it for a while.

“Geez, got a groupie on my hands.”

“Well, when’s the last time you’ve gotten asked like that?”

“Never.” I confess. I’m intrigued as hell. “Not for a birthday at least. I’ve been asked to perform at ones, but never to actually go out and celebrate with the person-”

Because they’re as lonely as I am, but that was something to say under alcohol, because the second hand weed smoke hadn’t gotten to me yet. V remains curious to what else I have to say, but instead I keep the flirtations for the end of the night, I wonder if they would end up taking me back to their place. I want to keep it post-coital, even though I fully understand what is going to happen.

I excuse myself and head back in to change. V nods, standing outside and smoking, starts replying to all of the text messages they’ve started receiving from people I see they would rather get a text, avoiding all calls and refusing them. I wonder what their excuse is. Maybe everyone thinks that they’re off with person A, while person A think they’re with B and C. I honestly don’t know. I’ve always celebrated my birthday with Mint and she did the same.

I gave her a quick wave, as she flashed me her middle finger, causing us to quarrel a bit for the show, as I went onstage, bowed down and put my wig on top of hers.

“The unprofessionalism is far too much, sometimes, that you even have to quote some mainstream stuff for the twinks to get the references.” Mint kept a straight face from laughing at her own joke and threw the wig back at me, as I went backstage and I caught it with one hand, already not turning towards Mint. Now, the queens were doing coke, some smoking weed, some just drinking cheap vodka shots, which I would’ve shrivelled at the sight of, but I’ve drank them too. It was all a part of the experience of the peeling walls and the cheap pink posters. I kept on my cowboy boots on with the photo of Alison, I had no idea how I could pull off a lip-sync of hers and it didn’t matter. It was back before she had lost herself and back from I believed in everything else.

It was an ode to something old. I used to wear an orthodox cross when I just moved in with Mint, but soon enough I realized that God abandoned us all and if even suicide wouldn’t get buried, what would that mean about transgender drag queens? I lit a cigarette, as I just stripped from the sequin dress, which clashed with the cowboy boots, the studded vest and changed into jeans, a plain shirt and the cowboy boots were the only thing which was from a female section, but that’s because I loved them and after all, I was a professional drag queen by now, well, as Mint talked about me.

What was professional anyway?

I paid my bills.

Was that enough?

For my family not really. I remember how she would listen to my stories, how I was abused, as I would trace my fingers against the dinosaurs as Mint listened to everything I had been through by that time. I was sure that by this point I was even in Mint’s will. I didn’t even know where they properly were. In the beginning I wondered if I could open a newspaper and see one of their deaths, even if they didn’t matter, but I could picture myself, shirtless, done in drag and listening to some of Mint’s morning singing and not mourning. Happy, that the world was with one less abuser.

“Why does love ache so much?” V asked me right off the bat sitting down the ground, staring at a text and holding a hand to their face.

“Because it shouldn’t.” I reply, not really knowing what I was really saying. I didn’t know their situation and all of tonight’s lights could be reflected on our skin, different shades, blue and soon to be gold in the sun, once the night is over. V didn’t buy any of it and started rubbing their eyes with their hand, as I just sat besides them, people starting to roll out of the small drinking venue, which happened to host us weekly. They did know we had another gig at a separate bar in a neighbouring town on Friday, the world’s smallest field trip for all the drag queens out here.

“Sometimes we are our own fault. Sometimes we get scared when faced with love, actually.” V said, taking their hand away and I looked at their light eyes. “I’m not saying this is the case at hand.”

They bit their lip. They wanted to go. They wanted to talk. But we just sat there, until V could get the night going.

“I fell in love with a married man. That’s why I’m running away tonight. It’s been going on for six years. He wanted to make it special and shit, but I couldn’t. He’s married, married very young, about several years older than me. Nothing was ever out of the law.” V’s hands were shaking. “I wanna break it off, but….

Where would my love go?”

And they looked at me. A small smirk played on their lips.

“Is this where I come in?” I ask carefully.

V grins.

“It’s not that I want to be loved by the night, I’d have a hooker for that.” They pause and I see them flipping their phone a few times from top to bottom, with the text received exactly at midnight. That man should probably love V very much, I couldn’t help but think. “I just want someone to know. I want someone to care, not judge. No.”

They pause.

“I’ll never fall in love by the end of the night with anyone. My heart is taken. I should’ve known better.” They start speaking to a void, maybe to the married man in their head. I’m not entirely sure. V does look up to the moon and I watch them for a while. Good, they don’t see me blush, my foundation is off, my stubble is seen and it’s hard when someone as V is stunning. Eventually V locks their phone and puts it in the back pocket. They thought of these words coming in, I could tell that. “I just want to spend the night with no strings attached. No hooker, no commitment, maybe no sex, no psychologist late night call, no suicidal tendencies, I’d lie if I said no feeling sorry for myself.”

They laugh sadly. I just watch them, sitting a bit closer and they don’t mind and that’s when I notice their silver Chelsea boots, which reflect like their highlight and are now stretched out for the street to trip onto. Then they look at me. They look at me for a very good while, a grin appearing and then fading. I could hear my heart in my ears. Too many bad memories cross my mind and I think of drag, I think of Mint putting on a wig on me for the first time, I think of having sex with people freely now-

I am me

V kisses me. Electricity runs through my body.

“Cut the tension at the start.” They quietly say against my lips. I feel hungry for their touch and lips, but it’s their night, not my own. V’s the owner of the night now, an endless beautiful half-moon night which will vanish once dawn hits and they will be gone. A lover never written. ” And let it unravel.”

I feel their tongue, I moan against it, before feeling our tongues properly rub, it feels as if I’ve never kissed a person. I pull V closer. Surely they counted the human factor and they don’t mind. We sit there making out for a good while, some people whistling from recognizing me, some just whistling from seeing two queers from a gay bar. I run my hand against their cheek, they’ve just clean shaved for the night, so some stubble seeps through to the touch after all these hours.

I pour my soul into the kiss with V. I don’t know them or do I know them better than most people? V seems privative from what I see. I wish I could numb their love, at least for tonight. We break-

No, we stop, before V gives me a final small kiss and looks ahead.

“I haven’t kissed anyone else in six years. Technically… am I cheating if I am helping someone cheat?” V asks, hands on their lips, a smile playing and they can still feel the effects of our kisses, I assume.

I shrug. All of a sudden I feel young. I’ll hand that to V. I haven’t felt young in years. I felt like I was going down down on an aging slide, now I feel like I’m on Mint’s doorstep but now out of curiosity on who I really am, rather than running away.

I could fall in love with V. I smirk and V smiles at the change of subject, nodding to ask what’s up.

“I could fall in love with you for the night.” I say as V leans back, their hands behind them, holding them up, I’m sure if we could see the stars from the city they’d be laying down.

“Then do.” V closes their eyes. “Nothing wrong with a bit of love for my birthday.”

We laugh.

“It’s in a few hours.” I remark.

“Whatever.” V continues laughing. Then V’s phone vibrates with a call, I see heart emojis, so I’m guessing it’s the married man and they drop the call. V goes silent for a while, even after putting the phone back. They put their head in their hands and close their eyes before speaking. “I used to be so scared that they would stop loving me, it was driving me crazy, but they never did.”

I don’t want to cut off their limbs with a bread knife.

“They never left their spouse.” V smirks sadly at my reply.

“Exactly, but…” They turn to me. “You know when you feel love.”

They’re flirting as well, it’s two sides of the same coin that is V’s night, their rules.

“You still want love for a night.” V nods, eyes closed and I get a good look at the violet eyeshadow. It’s pretty. I don’t wear make up outside the stage anymore, so whenever I see anyone with it, I get happy somehow, that someone else can do it. “I’ll love you for tonight.”

“It won’t be genuine.” V smirks and opens their light eyes. I shake my head and take their hand, intertwining fingers after pressing them together. I kiss V again briefly and then they don’t want to let go.

“Then pretend we were lovers in a different life. Does that sound genuine enough?” It’s my turn to grin and I catch them smile. “You can’t refuse my theory.”

They give me a sad smile.

“I always take something good from bad lovers in the past, like liking black coffee even if it were just a date gone sour, I don’t know why I want to remember so many people, so many ones which slip by even if they were utter empty on the inside or caused me harm.” I wait to see where V is going with this. “If we were to be lovers in the past, I would’ve taken a bad trait from you.”

I think for a while.

“Surely the highlighter.” And we both laugh.

“I’m no good in relationships or after them, I miss the person too much.” I can see V quickly nod at my choice of person, as if I’ve given a small nod to their identity, I wasn’t daft and I could see V through when it came to that. “It breaks a void inside me, it gives me a tremendous sense of longing…” V cuts me off halfway.

“You fall in love, easily…” They pause, wondering which name of mine to use. I don’t interrupt, curious myself, but other than the flashy cowboy boots and even then, I’m not really in drag. V pauses and closes one eye, smirking. “Let me be the same, T. Let’s keep it to initials.”

“I’m actually going to change my last name, once I figure out what to or get married.” I stare at the sky, now, not really sure I want this night to be the one, where I come out about such personal things, but I don’t feel hurt and V makes sure to check up on me.

“I can…”

“T’s fine. I hit you on the last name too, didn’t I?” I smirk. “It was coincidental on my part.”

“To be honest… I just thought of it as a joke… like spilling tea. You’ll be picking apart my heart, like a doctor and then like a surgeon you’ll surely see-” They smiled sadly. “That the patient won’t follow said instructions and… might come back to the old habits.”

We both lit different cigarettes. I had mine now.

“Maybe you should keep loving. We all have our love story and our love to give. It’s not always tragic, we just make it so.” I stop at that, making sure it gets engraved in V’s head.

“That’s why I want things to change at the same time. I want to grow a spine, even for one night. I want… To choose. What I want. It’s like with every sentence, the haze gets stronger.” They tilt their head to one side. “Or maybe it doesn’t, because I can still see my hands in front of me, maybe it’s the city which has always been wrapped in a fog and nobody else really matters. Because no one really thinks of others.”

The wind starts to pick up and our hair gets in our way, but we keep sitting there. It gets colder, as the silence draws on and I’m not even sure what to reply, because I know that this is V’s night. We’ve stopped smoking a while ago and the clubs should start closing soon and that’s when V stands up and stretches their hand towards me, yanking me up.

We quietly keep walking, V not really saying much, but making sure that I’m behind them. I wonder if they would’ve preferred if I had kept my make up on, after all they did ask for a drag queen for the night. I may not the man of the night, but we both agreed to sex.

It was different once we went in, V hesitated for a bit and so did I-

I approached them and then I stood a bit taller, stretching my neck and looked into their light eyes, wondering what the true colour behind them was, but that wasn’t for me to find out. It was just a hook up-

I kissed V and then they wrapped their arms around me and I couldn’t help but wonder if they were thinking of the married man. That’s how it rolls with us, our generation, we fall in love with the wrong people, but then, maybe it’s not just our generation with the high demands and the wrong ideals, all the right mistakes, because Mint does the same mistakes I do.

“Pretend you love me.”

V’s word struck some deep loneliness inside me and I channelled all the love I ever had to all the men, to all the women, to all the people I’ve ever confessed, who have taken it and rejected it. The lights were on and dim, some lightbulbs were out, I guess V was having a rough time, but the apartment was awfully clean. Then I noticed that it was just one of those switches which regulate light.

“You don’t have to ask for that.”

I say and we both start stripping, V jumping out of their skinny jeans as I go on my knees and they take out their huge cock. Instead of letting me blow them, they help me strip entirely and that’s when we head to the bedroom, all white and clean, bedsheets just changed and I wonder if they had thought of inviting the married man over, as always. That’s when the price of everything kind of strikes me down, since I shared my apartment with Mint, even if we were considered well off drag queens. But I just sigh, such riches always crawled upon my spine, as V traced their fingers on my shoulder blades, as if they were trying to find my wings, it reminded me of the past which I had let go. But I still headed in.

We fall on the bed and we make love.

I’ve never had sex like that. I’d usually be able to describe every goddamn detail to Mint later, but instead our mouths were on each other the whole damn time or on each other’s body, V’s fingers making sure to prepare me with what was going to happen, I was as wet as I could get, getting desperate as they would lick my neck and then fuck me into the matrass, pulling my hips as close to them as they could and we both screamed out. V ejaculating, me cumming hard, digging my nails into them.

I could retell us back and forth as if we were two photos, which I could put side by side and keep telling who is who, what is what and what’s been going on between the two of us.

We talked sweet nothings and that’s when I noticed the time on their watch by the bedside table, a few more incoming texts from the living room, where the phone was discarded. We both sat up and that’s when we both looked at each other, like Cinderella’s carriage coming to pick her up and I scanned their eyes.

“V.” They kept quiet. “Happy Birthday.”

I said that so quietly, that I wasn’t sure that V heard that their 25th approached officially in my eyes. They just nodded and looked at the white ceiling.

“Or maybe I am my own fog which plagues the city.” They stretched out their hand, as if to make sure that they could see it, smiled and looked back at me. Then they went back to their pillow, closing their eyes. V fell asleep and I stayed there for a while longer, wondering what to even do.

I fell asleep myself.

Just to wake up to knocking, an empty bed, wrapping up the covers tighter around me.

It’s strange how even saying one phase to someone can mean breaking the world down and showing its shiny core. How the bane of our existence can be broken down to one phrase or even word.

Unloved?

Beloved?

Lonely?

I’m sure V went to smoke outside, I could see them walking around the streets aimlessly, avoiding the phone calls still and then coming back to the married man, apologizing for avoiding him for a day or so.

Or maybe they’d never get back to him, I wasn’t sure.

It wasn’t my choice.

I stayed in bed for a while longer, the watch still on the bedside table showing noon now.

Just because we want to be loved, doesn’t mean that we’re ready for it. I left the apartment, pondering on my phone number and I did leave it. After an hour, I wanted to come back to retrieve my phone number, but a man opened the door, looking all confused and I apologized deeply, leaving.

V saw every single following show, but we never talked again, watching through hooded eyes. Instead we would watch each other smoke at the end, from street to street, from city to city and eventually until one of us couldn’t see the hand through the fog.

I did learn of V’s dark eyes though once-

Beloved.

In all the ways.