Of course, after that you left again. The glitter of pink brings my gaze back to my toes. I tell myself you had to go; it’s your nature and your job... Knowing it doesn't stop the ache in my depths. Logic and emotions don’t mix. Flinging myself into the corner of the couch, my hair dances around me in a symphony of frustration. Even the cushions bounce a little with the violence of my movements. I curl those toes under me, digging into the upholstery. My fists press into my eyes. I haven’t. I usedto love - I used to need - to jerk myself off - "to pleasure myself" - atleast once a day when I wasn't dating a girl. Now, with Natalie, I don'tever even think to make love to her with my penis at all. And I don'tfind that wrong. Instead, I just feel reassured by it. Oddly.Comforted by it. That, by not ever trying to use my maleness to pleaseher, that I'm free to be the "almost a girl" for her. That's whatpleases her the most. And I don't want that to ever end.Day 440:Ms. Cambrai. More

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