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My 4 days in gay conversion therapy


“Maybe I’ll let you have it,” he says, and I can hear the smirk. Ferret was a virgin, but I couldn’t make myself blush. The path continues past oak trees surrounded by nettles. Bright red mushrooms dotted the forest floor, squishy and dangerous. Finally, Andreas led us into a small clearing.

When he made sure we couldn’t be seen, he hung his flashlight on the rowan and turned to me. We both knew something was going to happen, but I waited for him to take the lead. He speaks little, rehearses, but is very sweet. His words seemed frozen in the early autumn air. He took one of my hands in his.

Sex in a Larp isn’t real. In this Larp, they taught us a synthetic technique, a progression of movements to get sex. Andreas put his finger on mine, and after a minute we moved our hands slowly over the sensitive skin of each other’s forearms. When the time is right, we must turn and stand with our backs to each other, the spine pressed to the spine. In the workshop it looked like a hokey, but here, under a nearly full moon, my heart was racing. Through his ribs, I could feel that maybe Andreas was too.

The first time I fell in love was with a guy very similar to North: handsome, gallant, living to the fullest. In a closet, any small beam of light feels like a supernova. I remember the painful days broken by a kind word or a dirty second-long handshake.

The final stage of the meta technique has players facing each other. To represent fireworks, they exchange phrases, saying things they want and things they fear, making the moment “lovely and sad,” according to the panel. We didn’t get that far, because North broke away.

He told me that was enough. Stop.

I stop. After Walker’s barbecue, the closeness of another person was a real comfort, but now I pull my jacket around. North is an inscription. I’m meeting a girl, he said. You and I, we’ve been experimenting a bit. It will go as far as things will go. Not feel hard. Never repeat.

Minks may have been crushed with guilt and shame, this I know. I was in this place and witnessed it for the first time myself, in the parking lot of a train station with a guy I had never seen again. It’s a miracle, I think, that strange teenagers survive falling in love in places that reject them.

In another minute, I was alone again, watching North’s flashlight beam back across the campus. I am in the forest. Then I did the mental equivalent of pulling my clothes and going back to my room, where the lights were off.

It was a sleep at night, partly because Denmark is a place with too much caffeine. My brain won’t be stable. I replay episodes in therapy and in the woods, alternating between thinking about my game and Weasel’s life. My heart couldn’t help but feel heavy. Around 3 a.m., I woke up and took my phone from the “off-game” hole to write an email.



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