It was 4 p.m. of the first day of Spring Fest of my final semester at college, and Tom and I were wasted. Our arms and legs were strewn across a ratty futon. Our eyes flickered on and off. Our friends’ bodies littered the room, crumpled up in different corners, either asleep or in a bloated daze. I curled my body to rest my head on his shoulder and whispered, “I’m going to the bathroom. You’re welcome to join if you’d like.”

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At the beginning of the semester, I had signed up for a Queer Theory course (pass/fail) w...