You were in the same summer camp. She and her mother rode their [[recumbent bicycles|recumbent]] home from camp every day.
It wasn't, for [[either of you|years]].
You've long since forgotten how to ride a [[bike|years]].\n
Her father saw the two of you holding hands and, the way she relates it, point-blank asked her if the two of you were dating. She said her mother told her it was [[a phase]].\n\nWhen you came out to your family, your mother said, "You seemed so interested in boys." She wasn't wrong, you guess, it just wasn't [[the full picture]].
You wore long jeans despite the heat, so that when you fell off the bike you wouldn't scrape your legs as much.\n\nIt turns out, [[the faster you go, the more stable you are]].
Anyway. You were fifteen, and your girlfriend wanted you to be able to ride a bike, so you tried your best.\n\nTogether, you walked back down the cul-de-sac you were practicing in to your house, where you'd set up [[a tent]] in the backyard.
She told you once that her [[family]] would go on long bike trips for summer vacations, hundreds of miles along the Hudson River. \n
Ascend out of this flesh prison altogether, am I right?\n\nThe hope is that when you leave your physical form behind, the things you cared about will seem so remote and inane.\n\nThen again, your recall would be literally perfect. You've always had [[a hard time|years]] throwing things out. Could you [[forget]]?
You're pretty sure the word for what you are is [[pan]][[sexual]].
You were [[twelve]] when you met her.\n\nYou were [[fifteen]] when you started dating. \n\n(You were sixteen when you broke up. You were nineteen when she stopped talking to you.)
...[[you]] never [[forget]].
She taught you how to ride a bike the [[summer]] after you started dating.\n\nYou're out of practice now, at riding a bike, at loving her. You're not even sure that you could do it again if you tried. \n\nThe body remembers, that's how the saying goes. \n\nYou don't think you want to [[know]].
Know this: when you left her, it was absolutely necessary to you.\n\nKnow this: when she stopped speaking to you, she had her reasons.\n\nKnow this: you owe her so much of who you are.\n\n\nINEVITABLE END
it was when you were [[fifteen]]
it's like learning to ride a bike
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Twenty-one. Assigned female at birth. \n\nFrantically trying to put [[your past|years]] behind you and [[ascend]] to adulthood.\n\n(Trying your best. Not always succeeding.)
This might also have been true of sex with [[teenage-you]], insofar as that you were emotionally on the edge of falling off a precipice for much of your teenage years.
(Well, at least, after you figured out how to [[kiss]], and then some.)
This wasn't your first kiss.\n\nYour first kiss also happened in this tent, in this backyard, in this summer, with this person, though.\n\nYou've forgotten how to ride a bike, but this you could never forget. \n\n\nKISS END
None of that cutlery nonsense, [[please|the full picture]].