hurt/comfort

Got a bit nostalgic about slash fiction, of all things. The reason: I had a brilliant eccentric female friend I have since lost touch with, who used to email me choice bits of slash fic, who actually introduced me to the whole concept in the first place. (And when she finds her way to this journal and feels that jolt of recognition of herself, I hope she contacts me). When she and I reunited after our respective adventures abroad, it was inevitable we watch QUEER AS FOLK together. Last night I found myself searching old online archives to locate some of those stories that she liked or I liked. (Oh, what those Star Wars characters are doing, of which poor old George would never never never approve…)

I only recently realized, after a decade of knowing her, that said friend is really an effeminate and cross-dressing gay man trapped in a straight woman’s body. Which suddenly makes so much of her make sense to me, if you know what I mean (and you might not, because it might seem like that whole statement makes little sense). You think I would have clued in to something like that long before, but sad to say I did not.

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