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January 16, 2006

Jim: Tableau Vivant

Look at him, standing broad and proud. People admire him, gaze lovingly at him, even reach out a tentative caress. He doesn’t brag or try to make me feel inadequate. But even though he’s too nice to point it out, I know he feels superior.

I was like him once, full of purpose and a sense of belonging. Then all that came crashing down in one thoughtless moment of lustful abandon.

Now here I am, flat on my back, my broken leg held aloft like a beacon of failure.

Why do some people think a table was designed for sex?

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