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I fear I’ve been misleading in recording the inconstancy of my sexuality of late.
I may sound unhappy. Some days I am.
But I accept the pain, failure and confusion as part and parcel of having the pleasure and joy.
Without the motivation of sex where would I be? Lost I’m sure in a more mediocre existence.
The ache, melancholy and confusion is a fair price to pay for being lifted out of isolation, roused from apathy.
And you my friend who reads this site and you who doesn’t, know the mad giddy happiness that I feel just knowing that the gender atypical exist. That I really do smile from the simple knowledge that you, they are alive. Not that the possession of an androgynous person isn’t thrilling. But I don’t have to sodomize a rose or caress a sunset to enjoy the beauty.
I’ll probably die with a smile on my face just having been lucky enough to see and know.