Most people have awkward teen memories that make them cringe, and I bet many involve a crush.
When I was 17, I hosted a Halloween party. Turns out it only takes two Smirnoff Ice alcopops to let your best friend know you like them as more than a friend.
I thought I was being subtle about it, but apparently not.
I didn’t outright admit my feelings, just dropped several hints that made them clear. I didn’t realise the blinding obviousness because I didn’t get rejection or reciprocation that night (plus the Smirnoff Ice probably didn’t help).
Cue a restless night of cringing in embarrassment and questioning every life decision. When I walked into college the next day, Shaaba was already there.
She looked at me, I looked at her, then she bolted out of the door.
Playing it back in my mind now, I almost see her as a comic-style blur, leaving a dust cloud and flying paper in her trail.
When I finally caught up to her, the reason for her flight wasn’t too shocking.
See, it wasn’t that her feelings weren’t reciprocated – Shaaba told me she felt it too – which I was very relived and happy to hear. In fact, we agreed later that day to tentatively start ‘dating’ and see where things could go.
But there was a big fear of how her family would react if we were in a relationship, because when we first met, I hadn’t been ‘Jamie’.
It was in art class about a year earlier, and we have different accounts of how this went – but my first impression wasn’t great from Shaaba’s perspective.
She remembers my friends and I not saying hello back, but all I remember was a shy, pretty, new girl who was drawing a guitar.
It was only by chance that we met again through a mutual friend, and after that, we spent a lot of time together.
One afternoon, the oven broke at Shaaba’s house and she brought over what felt like a hundred mini quiches to cook. We spoke for hours that day and quickly became best friends.
Later that year and totally unrelatedly, I came across a word while watching TV that changed my life: transgender. I was living as a girl, and that word made me realise I didn’t have to feel this uncomfortable forever.
I gradually came out to family and friends over summer. Coming out is almost guaranteed to make you feel stomach-churningly nervous, but some people are scarier to come out to than others.
For me, that person was Shaaba. Of all my friends, she was the person I was most worried about losing.
It had to happen at some point though, so I invited her over ‘for a chat’ – not the most inconspicuous invite. I asked her if she knew what the acronym ‘LGBT’ meant and got a pretty confident ‘yes’ in return.
So when I proceeded to announce myself as ‘the T in LGBT’, I didn’t know how to interpret the blank look staring back at me. Did she accept me? Was she processing the information? Nope.
Shaaba sheepishly admitted she didn’t know what the ‘T’ stood for specifically, and I ended up explaining it all. All my fears immediately dissipated as the blank look was replaced with understanding, and then acceptance.
Since that chat 12 years ago, Shaaba has supported me through every step of my transition journey.
People viewed our friendship differently when we went back to college. In the heteronormative world of teenagers back then, the closeness we had could only be seen as romance; rumours spread.
Hugs were read differently now that ‘Jamie’s a boy’ and we became more conscious about how we interacted. There was an undercurrent of feelings growing there, but neither of us spoke about it – well, not until that Halloween party.
After the day we ran around college, we walked home together and talked about what a relationship could mean. Shaaba wasn’t allowed to be friends with boys – let alone date – and that’s not even thinking about me being trans. We both felt this was something worth exploring though.
Shaaba told her family I was trans and had a new name and pronouns, as she didn’t want to misgender me. As a result, we were no longer allowed to be friends.
We could only see each other at college and walking home together, parting ways before we got too close to her house.
As our relationship grew closer, Shaaba’s relationship with her family fell apart for several years. Her mum read a bit of a mushy text I’d sent her for New Year’s Day, which led to a long journey of arguing, disowning, but ultimately understanding and acceptance.
It took around seven years, but we’re in such a great place with Shaaba’s mum now, she even helped us plan our wedding last year.
Shaaba and I are looking forward to starting a family together soon. We’re going strong together – and with each other’s families.
It’s been quite the journey of friendship, coming out, learning from all parts, and marriage, and it’s a journey I’m so grateful to have gone on together.
I do still cringe a bit thinking back to that Halloween party, but despite the difficult times, our relationship is the best thing that’s happened to me and I couldn’t imagine a life without Shaaba.
So, thank you, tipsy teenage Jamie.
‘The T in LGBT’ by Jamie Raines out 29 June, RRP £16.99 (Ebury). You can follow Jamie on YouTube here and Instagram here.
Headshot picture credit: Corinne Cumming
Pride and Joy
Pride and Joy is a weekly series spotlighting the first-person positive, affirming and joyful stories of transgender, non-binary, gender fluid and gender non-conforming people. Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing [email protected]
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