It all started one morning in Home Room, soon after I had started Sophomore year, when Mrs Black announced that a new foreign boy would be joining our high school. She looked at the paper and said that she thought he was from Germany since he was named Gerd. At that moment the new boy arrived. He conformed to the stereotypical German in that he had blond hair and the most amazing blue eyes. He wasn’t tall, probably some eight inches shorter than me. Overall “Cute” would be an apt description. I also noticed his long gorgeous legs. I was determined to enjoy them as much as I could that day, since there was no way the school would allow him to wear such a ridiculous short skirt more than the first day.

I don’t hide that my preference is for girly boys. I’m quite open about and it hasn’t stopped me from being one of the most popular boys in school. Over the summer my effeminate boyfriend (or as our friends called him: girlyfriend) from the last two years had moved away so I was fortunately single for the moment. So what if I had pined for Martin just a minute ago? Carpe Diem. I really wanted to get to know Gerd better. Mrs Black aided and abetted. She placed Gerd next to me and told me to help Gerd find his way in school. I was given this task since our schedules were the same. Better and better.

During the morning Gerd and I got to know each other. He was smart. He had skipped two years. That explained the rather youthful appearance he had. I really liked the person and hoped that we could be a couple in time. From the looks Gerd gave me I had some hope that the feeling wasn’t completely one-sided. At lunchtime some cheerleaders, great and friendly girls, took Gerd aside and I presume updated him about me. At least that was the idea I got from the frequent looks they gave me. Positive: Gerd didn’t run away screaming but joined me for lunch.

Well, the way Gerd was dressed had not completely evaded the powers that be. Ours is a very liberal high school but there were things that needed to be clarified. As we were having lunch the Principal came by and asked Gerd to have a word. Instead of going to the office the Principal just took Gerd away a few meters. The principal’s voice is louder than he thinks so I could hear him. He asked Gerd whether he was transgender or a crossdresser. In the former case they’d have to change some classes such as PE. Looking at me Gerd answered that he wasn’t transgendered. The way he reacted and the way he looked at me made me suspicious. He just might be transgendered after all. Hope not! Unfortunately he was also told not to wear such short skirts. Bummer! When leaving, the Principal looked at me and told Gerd that he could do worse than me and winked.

The Fall term was great. I and Gerd got very close. We had lunch together. We dated. He was the most amazing boy I had ever met. Smart, funny, vivacious. He never again wore such a short skirt again, only nearly as short ones. I couldn’t stop looking at those amazing legs. The short skirts were a surprise since Gerd was a bit shy otherwise. I never saw him undressed. He never showered with the rest of us after PE. However, I noticed that he looked at me, when I was naked, with great pleasure. When we went swimming he changed into his girl one-piece in the restroom. He was good at tucking. Even practice after school turned out to be coordinated. The cheerleaders made Gerd try out and to his surprise he had what it took. So when I had football practice Gerd had cheerleading practice with the girls. I only regretted that Gerd preferred changing with the cheearleading team for the spirit thing. The cheerleaders usually are friendly and level-headed. Not that that really changed but with one of them dating me they started giggling whenever they saw me. Me? I had never considered the possibility that I would date a cheerleader. Now when I was, I liked it. I liked it a lot.

Spring was as good as Fall. As the weather got warmer I noticed that Gerd appeared to have started to pad his bra. Or, was it as I had suspected that he really was transgendered? I started to get a bit worried. I like girly BOYS. However, those thoughts soon disappeared. Gerd and I were having too good a time. I couldn’t have found a better girlyfriend! He even got me to start taking ballet classes. He looked scrumptious in his spaghetti strap leotard and pink tights. His point work was very graceful. He was such a girly boy! Me? Well, I was a beginner, i.e. on a completely different level. I had never worn tights before. It was strange feeling, especially with the thong dance belt and thong leotard. I liked it. I was a bit embarrassed the first class. Gerd had pulled a prank on me and got me thinner black dance tights than men normally wear. Not exactly opaque. I also learned that a lavender leotard is also less than usual for my gender. However, since it was Gerd who had got me the stuff as a present I just grinned and kept using the stuff. Besides, the thinner tights made it easier for the teacher to see my leg muscles. As a matter of fact I liked the feeling of tights. I started to wear tights at other times as well. I brightened up school with a selection of brightly colored tights. Well, it really was Gerd that started I just followed suit. Why had I been so reluctant to wear various colors before? I found that I like pink and lavender. Gerd really enjoyed wearing skirts and dresses. He looked so cool, in both senses of the word, in them. That intrigued me so much that I even wore a skirt myself occasionally. Yes, I was told off the first time since I had tried to match Gerd’s short skirt. Hey, I’m gay so what! And the way just a hint of make-up made Gerd look gorgeous, why shouldn’t I try it? As for swimming I stuck to my speedos. Why would I wear a bikini top?

All went well until the end of Spring term. I asked Gerd to the big end of year dance. I thought it was a no-brainer but Gerd collapsed in tears and sobbed that he couldn’t!

Perplexed I stood there in a quite pretty dress and thin pantyhose. Then I realized what a terrible mistake I had made. I like girly boys. I had let myself become a girly boy. I was the girlyfriend. Gerd was a girly boy. Of course he’d want a manly boyfriend, not a girlyfriend. No wonder he didn’t like me anymore.

- I’m so sorry I’ve let you down. I’ve let myself be seduced by how happy you have been being girly.
- No, you big stupid wonderful oaf. I kind of like you in skirts, I love you dressed any way you like, I love you with no clothes on. The problem is much worse than that. I’m Swedish, not German.
- Swedish? Why is that so terrible? I know very little about swedes except that they can be delicious when cooked correctly. Apart from that silly joke the truth is that the only things I “know” about Swedes is “The Swedish Chef”. If that is who Swedes are you may have a point.
- You don’t understand. I’m not a boy. I’m a girl!
- Then I was right when I suspected you are trans and not just girly!
- No, I’m a girl, a genetic girl. In Sweden Gerd is girl name while Gerd is a boy name in Germany.

She pronounced the two versions of Gerd in quite distinct ways: soft/hard G and the d sounded like a t in the German version.

- I’m so sorry I have been lying to you. When I first met you I fell in love with you at once. When everyone thought I was a German boy called Gerd and then I found out you only like girly boys. Well, I played along. You have no idea how hard it has been to carry that secret. It was only when with the cheerleaders I could be a real girl.

The cheerleaders knew? That’s why they had been giggling all year. Those ….

I looked at Gerd. How could SHE have deceived me so thoroughly and for so long? Had she no shame in her body?

Well, looking at her she apparently did. She had collapsed once again into a sobbing heap.

I looked at the person that had betrayed me for most of a year. The person I had completely lost my heart to. It was tough but there was no question of what I had to do. I said to her

- Well, nobody’s perfect.

and then proceeded to embrace her and kiss her mercilessly.
She stopped sobbing.