I have talked a bit about about my first girlfriend before, but I was talking about her to a co-worker last night, and it occurred to me to account our time together in one post.

I was going to university and being a book person, I explored the many libraries of my campus, looking for new things to read, That's when I saw her, the pretty blonde who sometimes helped me check out my material. I was smitten from the first, and totally out of character for me, I actually managed to do something about that - I asked her to join me for a walk.

The fact she was in a wheelchair just meant I had to walk slower.

She said yes, and so we did a little tour of the campus. Then the defining moment happened. We reached a corner that didn't have a ramp, and she had to explain to me how to maneuver the chair down the bump. I apologized for not thinking ahead, but she took the whole thing as a compliment. I had forgotten about her handicap and treated her like a person, and she was impressed.

We started dating not long after that.

I blew up my chance at the university, got a night job, and would get off shift go to her apartment, and sleep in her bed until she got home from work, then have supper with her before going home to get changed for work that night.

When my grandfather died, I called her at work, picked her up, and we went to her parents place so I could grieve. I crawled into the bed she used when she went home for the weekends, and her two year old niece tucked me in.

I slept my sorrow away, but only after did it occur to me that no one had actually tried to comfort me except that little girl.

Regardless, I knew what I wanted, and made a poem to propose.

She turned me down.

Then things got worse. She got cancer, and went to the hospital. Because I was not related to her, I couldnt see her.

I wasnt family. I wasnt her husband. I wasnt anything.

We had tried to sleep together, but my gender issues and her disability made that a non-starter.

I had not talked to her about what was going on for me, mostly because I had no idea what I really was dealing with. Still, not telling her didn't help our relationship, a mistake I was to repeat when I met my ex.

When she came back from the hospital, she had lost some of what little independence she had, and her attitude soured.

Not that I was any better, by this point, I was a passive-aggressive bitch.

We moved into a place with aid for the handicapped included, but all that did was take away most of the role I did have as her caregiver.

Our relationship was effectively over, just continuing like a headless chicken that hadn't realized yet its next move was to fall down.

Finally, one Easter we had gone to her parents, and her niece was there. This little girl forgot to take off her boots at the entry and her parents turned to her and said, "Dont be a Todd."

I had always known they didnt respect me, but this was beyond the pale. I looked at this woman I loved, hoping she would say something to them, but she was silent.

I didnt get angry, I got moving, literally.

I drove out of their driveway, went home, called my family, packed my bags, and left.

I felt guilty for leaving her without support, and tried to maintain some relationship with her. I even invited her to my wedding

I wonder now if I was subconsiously rubbing her face in it.

Not long after we lost contact, and I have seen her once since, and I guess she now is in full time care, a fact that sometimes eats at my heart.

I truly loved her, but I would have never dealt with my gender issues or my rape while looking after her, much less tried to transition.

Someday, I hope I can forgive myself for that.