In a devastating blow to queer joy, the lesbian couple you were walking behind on Wickenden Street turned out to be a straight couple with a man whose long hair was impressively well-conditioned.
Who could blame you? They were walking perfectly in sync and dressed in futch-y fall attire. And his hair was blowing perfectly in the wind. And he had feminine hips.
“They were both wearing Coogi sweaters and Blundtstones, and she had her arm around him,” you said, still processing. “Then he turned his head and I saw his mustache. It was devastating.”
You were just looking for something small to brighten your day. For 30 seconds, you imagined their whole life together: a cozy apartment filled with plants, two cats, and a green Subaru Outback, which they take on weekend camping trips. Then they rounded the corner and it felt like a punch to the gut. Love is love, I guess.
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