Last night I dreamed of a girl. We had a strong emotional bond that had grown for over a year, but I had yet to see her breasts. I was beginning to worry she was not physically attracted to me despite our emotional connection.
One night we got into a serious make out session that quickly escalated to birthday suits. We were so pent up it was raining cotton.
As she removed her bra, I noted that the general shape of her breasts looked a bit lopsided and unnaturally spherical. It looked like a poorly done boob job on a girl that must have had essentially zero boob to begin with. This did not bother me much, but I thought it was odd she had never mentioned cosmetic surgery before. When she removed her panties I was already wearing the breeze so it was almost impossible to conceal my reaction. Her pubic mons was relatively flat, sloping down into a labial cleft that formed so straight a line it could have been cut with a laser.
I had always thought she had a rather large thyroid in her neck. My flag pole tilted towards the ground.
Her face turned red as water filled her eyes. She whispered, "Whatever I was before, I am a woman who loves you now." Without realizing it, I had begun crying as well. I kissed her softly on the lips and pulled her close so that our chests touched. I could feel her pulse quickening.
I was deceived, yet I had always subconsciously had a strong suspicion she was no ordinary woman. The deception ultimately meant little to me. The real war within me was the battle about whether I was gay, straight, bisexual, or what. I felt the tug of generations of gender stereotypes pulling me in every direction.
The war abruptly ended. A sudden calm came over me and all the puzzle pieces clicked. It did not matter what we called this. Words did not define whether things are bad or good. Only how it felt. And it felt good - I was so deeply in love with this girl she could have told me she was a former giraffe and I would have merely raised my eyebrows before kissing her.
So I did. Over and over until her crying ceased and her iron grip around me relaxed into a gentle clutch. I felt the fear ebbing out of her as she guided me in. We were one.
I like to think that years later we got married and we lived happily ever after.
To me this dream was a self-acceptance of every unconventional sexual feeling I have ever had. If I love someone enough, it really does not matter to me what body they occupy. I will continue to love them so long as they are who they are.
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