Autoboyography

Sebastian nods, and then he doesn’t stop. He just nods, and nods, and nods as he stares at his hands between his knees.

“Why wouldn’t you just be with a girl, then?” he asks quietly. “If you were attracted to them? Wouldn’t it be so much easier?”

“That’s not something you get to choose.”

I’m not comparing my breakup to the death of a child—I’m not that melodramatic

anything, and we’d exchange a knowing look across the dinner table and that would be that.”
My desire to curl into a ball and rock in the corner rises. This is so awkward.