I want to have s**. With a male, as a male. Lovingly and gently. But I can’t have that. That’s impossible for me, unless I use unnatural methods with varying success. And I think I have a nice body, too, but not the way I want it to be. I want someone to admire the curve of my bone structure and the flatness of my chest, to not notice what I consider to be flaws. But, should I ever reach for what I want the most and think about nearly every day, there will most certainly be scars. Scars mar the surface. Scars remind you and others that you aren’t really what you want to be. I don’t want to have to ask anything of my partner for this. They shouldn’t have to ignore things, or have to tolerate them. This isn’t about them giving something to me, this is about me giving something to them. Something which I cannot give. And it never ceases to bother me.