I found myself at Cherry Bomb on Saturday evening. My friend S. canceled at the last second, but I had been waiting months for a Saturday off to synch up with Toronto’s hottest queer woman’s monthly, so I went alone.

I had an amazing time!

Cherry Bomb’s tagline is “dance. sweat. cruise,” and though I’ve been to their events before, I’ve never felt license to take part in any cruising. At first, I was married. Later, I was recognizably trans and hopelessly depressed and awful to be near.

This time, a few months of hormones under my bra strap, and my body sculpted by my overzealous yoga practice, I was definitely in on the crusing. Women were flashing smiles at me. Women–hot women!–were grabbing handfuls of my ass on the dancefloor.

In the end, it climaxed at nothing more than a little necking. I went home alone, feeling stratospheric. I never thought I’d come through transition and wind up showered with kisses on the dancefloor. This feels too good to be true!