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  • She curved in places I had only ever known myself to curve, mewed breathy utterances I had only ever heard from my own mouth. She was soft, but she was hungry, and she devoured every touch I offered her with the urgency of a cat long starved of cream.

    This is a lie. It never happened, and it won't.

    I had a boyfriend once who began our courtship with the brazen insistence that he was "pan-sexual... I don't see gender, I just love people" and I thought it was a desperately self-conscious and typically new-age thing to say. I was unimpressed, because it seemed like a line straight out of a free-love drum circle, and I tend to think far more cynically than such a passively anarchic perspective requires.

    However, there is this girl (tell me a love story that doesn't begin like that...) and she is, to coin a handful of cliches, my other half, my soul mate, the thing that completes me. She is the whole point of everything, and the feeling is mutual. We have said since we met four years ago that we wish sometimes that we were a little less straight, or that one of us was a little less female, because our fraught and tireless searches for a flawless romance would thus end abruptly and without sacrifice.

    I think this might be a love letter. Unorthodox, perhaps, but true. And I think also that this might be the most beautiful and most tragic love story in which I will ever feature, because it will never be more than what it is. In fact, I don't want it to be more, but I want to want that, and I think desire for desire might be even harder than the pedestrian yearning I have known so far.
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