Camila + Haruki
Sometimes at the Young Turks of Kowloon (our favorite vegetarian buffet in Hong Kong), I’d catch Camila staring at men’s crotches or sizing up women’s asses like a creepy predator. Before her, I didn’t believe there was a thing as the female gaze, but she proved me wrong. Sometimes, after we shagged and stood on my balcony or during breakfast, I could almost feel her pansexual desire burning inside her like a spiritual brush fire. It scared me to think that my mind mattered less than my dance moves in bed. But, I did what any rationalist would have done when nervous: I simply blamed my paranoia on five pistachio o-matcha lattes and left it at that. Camila was a voracious college girl in soul and spirit, obsessed with learning, fighting, and evolving, obsessed with exploring her sexuality and smashing the patriarchy—all things I found (find) insanely attractive and important. But, sometimes I secretly worried that her fighting and evolving and subverting the techno-patriarchy might lead her to another colleague of indeterminate gender and orientation.