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A dusty little town, the longing twang of a guitar chord, and the desolate landscape of Wyoming were all it took for me to know that Ennis Del Mar and Jack Twist’s relationship was doomed from the start. When it ended, one dirty, bloodstained shirt lovingly folded into the other, it ended me too. It felt shameful to watch that video, like I was watching porn, but perhaps even more sinful, because shame made gay love feel more pornographic than actual porn.
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