The Frenchman

Dear Butch,

This is the blog you have been waiting for.  The blog that introduces you into this crazy piece of writing I have created.  My other half.  The reason I can answer “Yes” to the question “Are you currently sexually active?” at my clinic.  My “Frenchman”.  Because you are indeed a man, and my favorite (and only) breed of man I date, trans.

You have returned into my life in the most interesting way and the most unusual time.  I am still unsure how you and I have become a “we” after years of silence and a past of selves we no longer connect with.  I don’t know what is going to come out of this or how long it will last.  Frankly, those thoughts scare me.  Thoughts of being committed to any degree create feelings of fear that I will completely fail you as a woman, a queer, and a human.

This won’t be the only be the mention of you.  There will be more, but you will be provided no special privileges.  You will be addressed as “Butch” and just because I end with “Love” doesn’t mean I feel that huge scary emotion towards you.  Consider this your official shout out.

Je veux être votre mauvaise fille.




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