STEVEN WEISSMAN

Thank you for a moment of cognitive dissonance. I once heard a jazz musician explain in an interview why he liked to play abrupt dissonances in the middle of tender ballads: It was his way of setting a bright-orange billboard against a blue sky. It felt like that while you and I were messing around in that dark cubby in that sex club, with my hands all over your nice big furry chest, and my tongue finding your left nipple, when you whispered, "You're making my pussy wet." Not a shock, really, just "Huh?" And then you pulled my hand down behind your balls (nice balls, too!), where my fingers felt an unexpected little valley, a small, perfectly aligned slot. And then you said you were nervous and pulled up your pants, and I gave you a quick kiss on the lips, and we both smiled, and we separated.

For a full day, I've been trying to think of the right label. Are you an FTM with a very convincing dick? A hermaphrodite? I have never touched a pussy, so I don't know what a pussy is supposed to feel like. But I realize it doesn't matter. I've come across guys before in sex clubs (literally) with unexpected body forms—missing fingers, green hair. They don't need labels. They are awesome being exactly who they are. That's how it goes in an anonymous sex club. Each guy is unique, and so is each experience. Thanks for an interesting one.

—Anonymous