Laughter rarely lasts longer than a few seconds, it's true. But how enjoyable those few seconds are.

And I told you: I think of a photograph you took of me, up in Montreal. You told me to jump in the air, so in the picture, my feet are off the ground. Later, I asked you why you wanted me to do that, and you told me it was the only way to get me to forget about the expression on my face. You were right. I am completely unposed, completely genuine. In my mind’s eye, I picture myself like that, reacting to you.

Its almost scary how amateur I am when it comes to musicals - Im a musical goer, but I am not as obsessed with musicals as perhaps some of my theatrical friends are.

But the thing about a cry for help is that someone else needs to be around to hear it.

We could call you an ambisexual. A duosexual. A—” “Do I really have to find a word for it?” Kyle interrupts. “Can’t it just be what it is?” “Of course,” I say, even though in the bigger world I’m not so sure. The world loves stupid labels. I wish we got to choose our own. We pause for a moment. I wonder if that’s all—if he just needed to say the truth and have it heard. But then Kyle looks at me with unsure eyes and says, “You see, I don’t know who I’m supposed to be.” “Nobody does,” I assure him.

So I said I wanted you to stay, even though nothing could stay the same.

With all due respect, if you’re forty-three, then I’m a fetus.