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Some of us will never really believe, in our heart of hearts, that a woman would actually choose to form a relationship with us.

We'll spend a good portion of our lives waiting for the other shoe to fall.

I'm a man. I'm fascinated by objects and things, and I find myself, far more often than I would ever wish, falling into those male stereotypes which I hate so much.

She's so beautiful. She's got this heart that...well, I can't really tell you. And her mind. That imagination, that spirit...she's alive like nothing else.

And she's willing to be here, with me. Beyond all reason.

Her flaws are just facets on the jewel. The pains of our relationship are just reminders that nothing worthwhile is truly free. And I can't believe that I have any place in her heart.

How could I ever comment on her breast size, her weight, her style?

It's not like we met on the street, dated a while, and decided to make it work. This wasn't a choice. My heart simply was. And so was hers.

I've never believed in soulmates or love at first sight, or any of the other trappings of romance.

But the dream is here, and I'm changed by it, forever. She's the one, neh?

Who am I, to dream of ever sharing a bed with her, to have any claim to her heart? But she's here.

Who am I?

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