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Dealbreaker: She's Gay

We didn’t know where our relationship would go from there, but we both knew we didn’t want a divorce.


In our Dealbreakers series, exes report on the habit, belief, or boxer brief that ended the affair.

"She lives in Chicago and thinks she's a lesbian," my friend told me before introducing me to Daria. "She's perfect for you." I have never actively pursued queer women who live half a continent away. But let’s just say this wasn’t the first time I’d found myself in this situation.

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Dealbreaker: He's on the Rebound

“Aren’t you, like, a broken man?” I asked, my hand protectively covering my lips. “Probably,” he conceded.


I don't remember when I first developed a crush on him, just that after enough sightings in our small D.C. neighborhood, he had slowly moved to the center of my frame. He started showing up at my friends' parties and popping up on my email chains. I’d often see him riding his bike around town, helmetless. I knew he had a girlfriend. I was pretty sure he didn’t know my name.

When I received confirmation that he was officially single, I didn’t make any sudden moves. But our hangouts started happening pretty organically, and soon they were stretching late into the night. Once, after a night out drinking and dancing, I invited him up to my apartment for a nightcap. We sat on my bed, not drinking our drinks. He leaned over to kiss me. I stopped him short.

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High Minded: Blow This Joint

This is where I stop writing about pot, hand the vaporizer over to you fine dudes, and start writing about other things.


Enter High Minded, where Tess Lynch revisits previously forgotten epiphanies, drags her lazy, leaden body on adventures and—whoa. I think this pudding's texture might improve if I added a handful of popcorn and some, like, canned blueberries:

About a week ago, I read an article in The New York Times by Ethan Nadelmann about the tension between the federal authorities and states that permit the use of medical marijuana (states whose residents make up almost a third of the U.S. population, by the way). This legal disagreement isn’t new; it’s what defines our current marijuana landscape, after all, but recently it seems that things have reached a spookily unpleasant pitch, like a forgotten Halloween sound machine that makes the noise of two entangled gnats.

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High Minded: Joint-Rolling as Performance Art

Joint-rolling is a kind of performance art: You made it. You smoked it. You basically ate it.

At a party last night attended by a selection of like-minded professionals, a curious thing happened when the time for joint-rolling came upon us. Across the board, my peers voiced insecurity regarding their technique. None of us was eager to show off her skills.

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Identity Crisis

Is transgender teens’ desire to switch their sex a mental disorder that needs treatment, or is it the rest of society that has a problem?


Elliott has two scars across his chest where his breasts used to be. He has full sideburns down his gaunt cheeks, a strong chin, and sharp jawline. His voice is not deep enough to be considered baritone. At 22, he looks like a rather boyish young man. You would not mistake him for a woman, although he was born a woman. There’s a chance you might mistake him for Morrissey, which is the look he’s going for. The asexual British rocker poet has long been the patron saint of gay and androgynous youth.

Elliott’s story is one we are hearing more and more these days. About the time he hit puberty, his body started developing in a way that was incongruent to how he perceived himself. Breasts, new thatches of hair, and an emerging feminine shape pushed Elliott toward an identity that felt alien. By 16, he felt as though his body no longer belonged to him. “It was something happening to me. Like it wasn’t even a part of me.”

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