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The way I had always made boys like me was with smoke and mirrors, exaggeration and bravado; heavy makeup and heavy drinking. There was no performance or lies with Farly—if a boy ended up loving her, he loved every cell of her from date one, whether he knew it or not. She was my best-kept secret, and now it was out.
“I can be moved by something and not know if I want it for myself,” I said.
