I wore a military uniform for 18 years of my life. The journey to hang it in the closet, and don the apparel of a festival-going, peace-loving, feelings-oriented, openly polyamorous and queer bodyworker, forced me to confront a lot of the messages I received about what it means to be a real man in the eyes of my fellow servicemen, my military family, and myself.

…A soft groan escaped my lips. It wasn’t of pleasure or pain. It was a groan of remembering.

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