He mounted his always shiny motorcycle and left his chalet in a residential area of Vallés trying not to make too much noise. It was two in the morning, midweek, and the night was cold. His parents were not home, as they spent more time at their country house than there. In any case, he did not want his neighbors to notice his departure.

Borja was the typical spoiled kid who had always tried to create an image of an alpha male by injecting supposedly proletarian touches into his mannerisms. In other words, he used words he believed were used by the leaders of packs in proletarian areas. Something in his eternally adolescent brain led him to believe that this conferred upon him greater seductive power. Ironically, it did. In most cases, because this precarious construction demonstrated an innocence that was more friendly than fearsome. In others, because he decided to play along.

Perhaps, due to his pretentious bravado or his lack of direction, none of his relationships lasted too long. At twenty-eight years old, he had had about fifteen girlfriends. Every time he sensed he was going to be dumped, he started looking for another. His worst nightmare was that they would know it was they who had left him. For that reason, he always tried to keep the girls he dated away from his social circle.

The woman who had lasted the longest with him was a woman ten years older, of Roma ethnicity, whom he only saw in secret because she had decided so. She had told him on several occasions that she would be embarrassed to introduce a spoiled kid, who was also a "payo," to her family. They met whenever and wherever she wanted. They spent time staging scenes for each other that always ended in a session of wild sex. Invariably, she ended up with her fake nails broken from digging them into his firm buttocks and broad back of pale, soft skin. Very often, he ended up with bite marks on his neck and red cheeks. On one occasion, a black eye was difficult to explain.

That night, Borja was heading to the house of his new interest. A few months earlier, after watching some porn videos, he began to develop an interest in transsexuals and transvestites. He opened an account on Grindr, and of course, only displayed a photo of his athletic, hairy chest on his profile. Most of the messages he received were from guys. But his desire was focused on the feminine, at least what he considered feminine. It can be argued that such an explicit rationalization of desire is nothing more than a denial mechanism as a defense against a reality one is not willing to accept. It's possible, but it is not the only possibility. And in any case, it is not this author's intention to judge the protagonists of his stories. Until we learn to accept our differences, not just tolerate them, it will not be possible to be ourselves.

Most of the conversations he established with trans, transvestites, and CDs ended quickly, as they were working. Nonetheless, he...