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Arms | Feb 05 2002

I don’t remember what she was doing exactly, but for some reason she lifted up the blanket for a second, and we both looked down at things, and then she said, as if in discovery, “You have a penis.”

There was no sense denying it.

“I do,” I said. “And if I didn’t, I don’t think you’d be with me.”

“That’s true,” she said—a bit too quickly, I thought.

I’m not so hot at remembering dialogue, but after this we discussed the question of whether she’d be with me if I didn’t have any arms. At first she said she would, but over time I convinced her otherwise.

It turns out that arms are nearly as important as a penis.