My waking fantasies this week have been howls, full of blood and anger, so this is interesting: last night I had a boxing match with a boy I'd never met before. It was a properly official fight; there were spectators and someone was keeping score. My opponent didn't think much of my boxing ability, and said so: he wasn't being mean, he seemed genuinely concerned. He started teaching me how to do it better... he spoke quietly, keeping eye contact with me, and I realised he was beautiful. The polished wooden floor on which we stood grew larger and larger, and everyone else grew further and further away. The space between us grew thick, and alive. At some point he reached out and put his hands very lightly on my hips, a caress I can still feel; something inside me exploded.