I'm having a very vivid memory and I need to express myself. Those who don't want to know, don't have to read.

There were a lot of us at the Muse concert; a vast assortment of people I know who may or may not have been interconnected.

It was nice to be hanging with Nadia. It hadn't been very long since she had been away in Europe and mostly inaccessible. I'd just broken up with Nancy (for the last time) so being out and about was good.

Whatsherface was there. Terribly excited because she'd just had her nipples pierced. While she talked, I looked over at Nadia. The expression on her face is burned into my memory; an almost scientific level of detached contemplation. "Yeah? Let's see," provoked Nadia when there was space to talk. I probably rolled my eyes, fully aware of what was coming. Naturally, Whatsherface yanked up her shirt to show off her knockers with their freshly pierced nipples, right there, at our table, in the middle of the Commodore Ballroom.

After fulfilling the compulsory male requirement of at least quickly scanning the unremarkable full-frontal nudity a couple feet away from my face, I looked back at Nadia to survey the much more interesting data of her precise reaction. The expression on her face didn't change, but she did manage a slow nod of acknowledgment. Naturally, Nadia was utterly unimpressed. But I could see into her in that moment; I know exactly what she was thinking and may she strike me down if it's otherwise:

Why would you do that? Something's wrong, something bad happened to you. This is how you get attention because you don't have any value of yourself, and I feel sorry for you.

Whatsherface left the table soon after, and I leaned over to Nadia's ear:

"I didn't know you were so interested in seeing women's nipples."

She laughed, "Of course I'm not. I just wanted to see if she'd do it."

Nadia you glorious woman, you.

After the concert, some of us parted ways. The bulk of us stayed together until Broadway SkyTrain. Before we said our final goodnights, Whatsherface grabbed D and kissed her fully (as was acceptable at the time, for some reason). D was then shoved over to another one of her friends, who did the same. Then perhaps one more time, I don't remember that clearly. I would have been a bit concerned if D hadn't been wearing a bewildered smile. She was shoved up to me next, which was actually a bit surprising. It was an extraordinarily odd moment: here was my very attractive female friend in front of me, and if I grabbed her and snogged her face it would be okay because that was what I was fully expected to do. I must admit I was tempted.

I gave her a hug and kissed her on the cheek. A chorus of "Aww"s sounded. D turned around somewhat defiantly: "See... Jesse is a gentleman." I think in the long run the end result was more fulfilling.

It's 2½ years later that I feel can fully express what I wanted to in those times. I am note a prude. I am not judgmental of people's sexualities. Far from it, I am a template Scorpio; an intensely sexual person. It's an aspect of love that's very important to me. But it's a part of myself that I want to be in control of, not vice-versa. Most importantly, that part of me belongs to myself, and the lucky person I share it with, and no one else.