In the pool hall, my sweetheart and a close friend tease me one night: “unimpressive,” “pure luck,” “you aren’t that good.” They were trying to get my ire up so that an hour later when I told them to stare into each other’s eyes as I fucked my sweetheart’s body, I would mean it with a snarky competitive vengeance, I would mean it with power and control, I would be pushed to take what I want.

“To me, being masculine-of-center means boyishness, it means blurring gender lines, it means a more vulnerable and delicate form of masculinity. It gives me the freedom to not fulfill expectations based on my assigned gender and body.”