My Unsent Letter

I want to inhabit that moment again with you. You were driving, we were listening to songs meant ‘to make gay people scream’. We finally hit the first one that did. It was "Man! I Feel Like a Woman". We sang along, as loud as we could. That was the first time I ever swore. It felt weird. I don’t know if I ever repented for that. I don’t know if I want to. We had come out to each other a year before, laying in our beds. We were roommates. (Oh my God, they were roommates). You as bi, me as ace. At least I think I am. You made me wonder. You saw an exit to Las Vegas, and suggested we go get married. I said ‘no, I have class tomorrow.’ I know you probably weren’t serious, but I’m not good at reading these things. I keep finding myself wishing I had said yes. I know that we wouldn’t be a good couple, but I can’t help imagining what kind of a future we could have together. We could live together, clean together, adopt a kid together. I fantasize about the most domestic things. But I’m not supposed to. I’m not supposed to be queer. I’m not supposed to want another woman. But in that moment, on that drive, it didn’t matter. I got to be myself in a new way. I got to try on being this new person, one that was more accurate to how I feel inside. And that’s why, if I could go back in time, I would go back to that moment with you.