Mr. Stoddard was executive director of the Lambda Legal Defense and Education Fund in New York from 1986 to 1992, fighting discrimination against homosexuals and AIDS patients in employment, housing, health care, insurance, family law and military service. During his tenure, Lambda's staff grew from 6 to 22 people and it became a nationally influential organization.
As an adjunct professor at the New York University School of Law, beginning in 1981, Mr. Stoddard taught one of the first courses on constitutional law, case law and statutes that affect the lives of lesbians and gay men. There are now dozens of such courses around the nation.
Mr. Stoddard was an author of the 1986 bill passed by the New York City Council that protects homosexuals against bias in housing, employment and public accommodations.
Tom Stoddard and his husband Walter Rieman
''The legislation was drafted by Tom Stoddard and it was perfect,'' said former Mayor Edward I. Koch, who signed the bill into law. ''He was an extraordinary lawyer. Even though he never retreated, he would find a way to explain, to placate and convince opponents that his approach was reasonable, rational and one they could accept. That's a gift.''
Quotable and telegenic with an earnest demeanor, Mr. Stoddard became a spokesman and lobbyist for civil liberties generally and gay civil rights in particular, using his understated mien to disarm critics and win allies. But his conciliatory approach alienated some of the more outspoken gay-rights advocates. And Mr. Stoddard's last major public role, as director of the Campaign for Military Service, ended in bitter defeat.
In April 1993, he and other leaders of homosexual groups met with President Clinton, the first such delegation to be welcomed to the Oval Office. Participants said Mr. Clinton assured them he would keep his promise to end the policy of banning homosexuals from military service on the basis of sexual orientation.
Three months later, Mr. Clinton endorsed a policy that retained the ban, though it nominally limited the scope of official investigations. The White House characterized this as a compromise, but Mr. Stoddard was unpersuaded. ''You can't simply split the difference on matters of principle,'' he said.
Despite this setback and his deteriorating health, Mr. Stoddard appeared indefatigable. The last June previous his death, he was a grand marshal in the Gay and Lesbian Pride March in New York. When the day broke dark and drizzly, he sensed that news accounts might impute some significance to the weather. Before joining the march, he met a small battery of reporters and declared pre-emptively: ''The rain is not a metaphor. The future of the movement is full of sun.''
With that, he took off down Fifth Avenue in a baby-blue convertible, with his day's supply of antiviral drugs in an insulated bag at his side.
Mr. Stoddard was born in Seattle and spent much of his adolescence in Glenview, Ill., a Chicago suburb. He graduated from Georgetown University and the New York University School of Law, where he was a fellow in the Arthur Garfield Hays Civil Liberties Program.
On graduating in 1977, Mr. Stoddard joined the firm of Norwick, Raggio, Jaffe & Kayser. He served in Albany as counsel to Barbara Shack, the legislative director for the New York Civil Liberties Union, then succeeded to that post in 1982, when the death penalty and abortion rights were at the top of the agenda.
Having aspired to be a journalist, he was adept at distilling complex ideas into words. When the Supreme Court upheld Georgia's sodomy law in 1986, Mr. Stoddard called it ''our Dred Scott case,'' referring to the 1857 ruling that a slave could not attain citizenship under the Constitution.
In his view, litigation was ''just partly about winning the case and establishing a favorable legal precedent,'' wrote Robert Murphy, a lawyer who is working on a biography of Mr. Stoddard. ''As importantly, and perhaps more so, it is a vehicle for public education.''
Mr. Stoddard presaged by a decade the national debate over same-sex marriage. ''The general public seems to feel that being gay is an individual existence that precludes family life,'' he said in 1985, on being appointed to head Lambda. ''In fact, it often involves being part of a family in every possible sense: as spouse, as parent, as child. Society needs to foster greater stability in gay relationships.''
Mr. Stoddard and Mr. Rieman, a partner in the law firm of Paul, Weiss, Rifkind, Wharton & Garrison, held a wedding ceremony in 1993. The two men exchanged gold bands and the vow, ''I commit to you my life and my love for the rest of our days.''
AIDS cases, which were one-fifth of the Lambda docket when Mr. Stoddard took over, grew to nearly 50 percent of the caseload in 1988. The next year, Mr. Stoddard learned that he himself had Kaposi's sarcoma, an AIDS-related cancer. ''I became the client as well as the lawyer,'' he said. ''The 'they' became 'we.' ''
At first, Mr. Stoddard kept the news of his illness quiet. But several years ago, he began to integrate the disease into his public identity. He joined the board of the American Foundation for AIDS Research and, though increasingly frail, he attended the first White House conference on AIDS in December 1995 and flew to Vancouver, British Columbia, for the 11th international AIDS conference in July 1996.
In October 1995, the Tom Stoddard Fellowship was established at New York University, under which a third-year law student is to work with public-interest organizations on gay civil rights cases. To benefit the new program, several hundred of Mr. Stoddard's friends and colleagues gathered at the New York City Bar Association building in mid-Manhattan.
After introductions and a video tribute, Mr. Stoddard rose to speak. ''Day to day life is rather difficult for me these days,'' he said, ''yet I have a good time at it.''
Closing with a paraphrase of Emerson -- ''I am defeated every day yet to victory I'm born'' -- he stepped away from the lectern to a standing ovation.
"One of the reasons gay men deal badly with dating and relationships is that they're not trained in the same way as heterosexuals," said Tom Stoddard, one of the most effective gay activists of the eighties and nineties. "They lose that experience in adolescence and have to make up for it in some fashion. I think of all the experiences I missed when I was in high school and college because I was not a sexual person, when all of my peers, except for the gay ones, were experimenting and learning and having a good time. It's one of the reasons that many gay men in their twenties and thirties, perhaps even later, act like adolescents. First of all, it's a lot of fun, at least for a while. And, secondly, they never had an opportunity to progress or to learn. You had no examples - nothing even to read about the subject, other than hostile stuff. In the good world of the future, I think that won't happen. They will be adolescents at an appropriate time in their lives."
Tom Stoddard had grown up in upper-middle-class white suburbs all over the Midwest, "very much a repressive culture." In 1970, he had graduated from Georgetown University in Washington. During college, he "felt lonely and confused" and he knew he "wanted to meet men, but I would have rejected them if I had met them." But he did meet an important role model, a straight student who contributed to Stoddard's decision to get involved in politics. Eventually, Stoddard would become one of the gay movement's most thoughtful and effective activists, writing the gay civil rights law for New York City, running the Lambda Legal Defense and Education Fund for six years beginning in 1986, and serving as an adjunct professor at the New York University School of Law from 1981 to 1997.
One of Stoddard's earliest role models was two years ahead of him at Georgetown. He was "very cute," and Stoddard had a crush on him.
His name was Bill Clinton. "That's one of the reasons I've remembered him for twenty years," Stoddard recalled. "He was also an appropriate role model for me because he was smart, he was political and he was very well known. He ran for office at Georgetown, and he made a friend of everybody he met, a quality he's kept. I knew him not only because he went to Georgetown. We were both in the School of Foreign Service and he also worked on Capitol Hill, on the Senate side, which I did. He worked for [William] Fulbright, his U.S. senator, and I worked for Chuck Perry, my U.S. senator. So we met through the Capitol Hill connection as much as anything else. Particularly when he won the Rhodes Scholarship, I was in awe.
"He was handsome, he was very well liked, he was political. And, I thought, here is the person I would like to be. When he got the Rhodes Scholarship, I thought, Well, he can get anything he wants. What's remarkable about him is that he's not a bad person. Most people who are that ambitious really are bad people."
Stoddard thought that working for Bill Fulbright, the Arkansas senator who was one of the earliest and most vocal opponents of the was in Vietnam, was an especially important experience for Clinton. "That was very good for him because Fulbright was a principled, very smart politician who did what he did because of certain principles. And he wrote about them. He was a scholar as well. The Vietnam War in a sense produced a healthy Bill Clinton because he was forced very early, as I was, to confront the issue."
Stoddard was also smart, political, and very good-looking, although he considered himself "very shy and very fearful," shortcomings he overcame by thrusting himself into hostile environments.
In the winter of 1970, he moved to New York, at the age of twenty-two. He had worried that he might be gay since he had been a high school student outside Chicago in 1965, and he had gone to the biggest bookstore he could find to look for an appropriate volume in the psychology section. The two books he found were by Charles Socarides and Irving Bieber, two of the most homophobic psychiatrists in America. "Both of them took the position that not only was homosexuality wrong, but that "single status" was wrong. Bieber's belief was that bachelors were inherently disturbed people, regardless of their sexual orientation. I read these books, they sounded plausible to me, I believed them, and then I hid them in the house." And during college, he never had sex with a man.
When he moved to New York, he lived in an apartment a half a block from one of the main gay cruising areas of that era - Central Park West and 72d Street. "It was dangerously close." So the first time Stoddard's roommate went away for the weekend, he picked someone up and brought him back to his apartment. "That was my first sexual experience. And it was extremely unpleasant and painful, as most of these stories run. He fucked me. I had never imagined that people did such things, yet was too young and too fearful to say no. I just found it painful as well as bizarre. I decided that if that was what gay men did, then I wasn't gay. I remember how old he was because he seemed so old to me. In 1970 I was twenty-two and he was thirty."
Stoddard waited a year before he repeated the experience, and the second time was a little better. But then he decided to retreat from Manhattan temporarily, and he moved to Minneapolis, where he worked for the American Field Service, a student exchange program.
"Minneapolis is much colder than anyone can possibly imagine. I would occasionally give myself frostbite because I didn't know how to behave in that cold weather. But one of the consequences of that cold weather was to accentuate my sense of loneliness. I would sit in my apartment by myself, feeling very cold. I was quirky then in some ways similar to the way I'm quirky now: I didn't turn the radiators on enough in the apartment. I believed it was a waste of energy and the building was overheated anyway. I thought I would just receive the heat from the other apartments. I did this the entire winter. What I was doing was driving myself into a gay bar. I'm quite serious. At some point I wanted to make myself so uncomfortable that I had to make a change and do something that was otherwise frightening."
He had noticed a lot of men going into a downtown bar called Sutton Place, so he drove there and sat in his car for an hour until he got up the courage to go in. "It was probably the most important event of my life. I got out of the car, I locked it, and I walked into the bar. I'm sure that I had my head down because that's what I do when I'm really frightened. I walked in and I heard this extraordinary music. That was the first thing I remember. It was the beginning of disco. I remember hearing Barry White's "Love Unlimited." That is my coming-out song. I opened the door, and all of a sudden here was all this activity, this bizarre music that I would not have heard on the radio or anywhere else, and I thought that I had entered another universe. I sidled up to the bar, ordered a beer, with my head down, drank the beer, and the bartender would occasionally say things to me, which frightened me, and went back home. The next night, I went back and met a man who became my first boyfriend. I also met, through him, his roommate and a whole host of people who became my first community of gay friends. Within about a week, I had joined the Minnesota Committee for Gay Rights. It was easy for me at that point because I was more of a human being, apart from my sexuality, than most other people at that level because I had done a lot and knew who I was. So it was fairly easy once I figured out my sexuality."
In Minneapolis, he met his second role model, a man named Howard Brown, who had served in New York City as Mayor John Lindsay's first health services administrator. In 1973, he caused a sensation when he announced that he was gay, and that he intended to become a "militant homosexual" who would march and lobby for the gay civil rights bill, which remained bottled up in the New York City Council.
Just after Brown's disclosure had made the front page of The New York Times, he came to Minneapolis to address the Minnesota Committee for Gay Rights, and Stoddard was immediately "enthralled" by him: "He was a wonderful speaker. A stirring speaker. Funny, expansive, inspirational, and he was from "my city" because I knew at this point I was going back to New York. He was a learned, successful person, and a political person. It's clear to me why he was so attractive to me. Here was someone from my world, from the east, who could be a role model for me, and who was gay. Openly gay! Such a thing never occured to me, and I was in a trance that entire day. I ended up going to a party held for him, given at the home of Allan Spear, a state senator who was also openly gay. I believe he was the first openly gay legislator in the United States. He's still in the state legislature. He teaches history. He's a wonderful man. At any rate, I went to this party that night and met a whole additional group of people and got to hear Howard Brown tell personal stories of life in New York. It was my first hearing of term fist-fucking, which they all talked about with great energy. At the time, I couldn't understand what was so novel about it because I thought it was simply another word for masturbation. Only later when I moved back to New York did I understand why all the commotion. That party was a very important event for me. In some degree I patterned my own speeches after Brown's."
In 1974, Stoddard moved back to Manhattan to attend New York University Law School. And he did not find any gay culture to be merely hedonistic:
"It was in the largest sense exploratory. That's really the key to understanding it. For me it was an exploration of sex, but it was also an exploration of relationships: casual relationships, friendships, and deeply felt romantic relationships. I could only begin to piece together my emotional life through that exploration. Gay men, at that time in particular, had no avenue of self-discovery apart from trial and error. And I made a lot of tries, and a lot of errors."
He rarely went to the baths, partly because he thought men clothed in towels offered too little information about who they were. "Part of the interesting thing about sexual relationships is figuring out who somebody is in the larger sense: what they think, what they do, how they react to the world. Part of that has to do with the clothes that they wear, the class in which they grew up. And those are things that are hard to figure out at the baths. There aren't as many games and there isn't as much complexity to a bathhouse."
At the same time Stoddard was beginning to develop his voice as an activist. When Herbert Hendin wrote about "homosexuality and the family" in The New York Times in the summer of 1975, Stoddard fired off a letter to the editor. "A piece as sloppy, ill-reasoned and inhumane as Herbert Hendin's demands rebuttal," Stoddar wrote. "For Hendin, homosexuals are like alcoholics. They deserve pity and help, but their way of life demands censure. In order to preserve Hendin's notions of what is healthy behavior and what is not, they must continue to live as social misfits."
The following year Stoddard was infuriated when the United States Supreme Court summarily affirmed a lower court ruling that upheld Virginia's sodomy statute. The court acted without hearing arguments or issuing an opinion. Justices William J. Brennan, Jr., Thurgood Marshall and John Paul Stevens dissented from the six-to-three ruling.
Chief Justice Warren Burger was scheduled to visit the NYU Law School right after the decision was announced, and Stoddard joined forces with his friend Peter Kazaras to convince eight professors and seven other students to write Burger a letter of protest about the sodomy case.
The letter was firm but polite. It argued that the Court's latest action was an unwarranted departure from other recent decisions that affirmed privacy rights, including Roe v. Wade, the landmark abortion case of 1974, in which the Court "recognized the importance of personal privacy and autonomy with regard to sexual matters. We appreciate that a summary affirmance probably does not reflect the Court's considered judgment on this issue; nevertheless, the disposition of [the sodomy case] can be read to indicate that the right of sexual privacy does not extend to homosexuals."
"The case made me really angry," said Stoddard . "By that time, I was quite political, I was very interested in constitutional law. I was very proud of that. It was professional, it was lawyerly, and it was quite stirring. It was a dramatic thing to do, particularly for law students. We had convinced our teachers that they should go along with us."
Stoddard did everything "with the quiet conviction that all he was seeking was what was just and fair," said his close friend Rich Meislin. "When he went into his "we hold these truths to be self-evident" mode, people listened. Changes happened." He was also, in his own way, a subversive "because he looked like what every mother wanted her son to be - and he was unabashedly gay."
The other important event during his law school career was Stoddard's application for a Civil Liberties fellowship at NYU as an openly gay person. He believed he was the first person who had ever done that. And he was accepted. It was a scholarship and an intership, and he ended up at the New York Civil Liberties Union, where he eventually worked for eight years. "I guess I'm still connected because I'm on the Board of ACLU.
"That experience made clear to me that I wanted to be a public interest lawyer. I feel great passion about this program at NYU because of what it did to me." In 1995, the program established a fellowship in Stoddard's name to farm out law students to work for gay organizations.
"Sometimes the things that are best for us are the things that we most avoid. It took me a long time to figure things out, but once I did it was absolutely clear to me. There were certain steps along the way, including activism and law school that moved me in this direction.
"But I'm very grateful for being gay. It's my salvation: it's my escape from an ordinary life that would have made me unhappy. Otherwise I would be living in the suburbs because I am by nature a strange combination of rebel and conservative."
Tom Stoddard, who by now was serving as the legislative director of the New York Civil Liberties Union, drafted the New York City bill that prohibited discrimination in housing and employment on the basis of sexual orientation. Stoddard "was an extraordinary lawyer," Koch remembered. "Even though he never retreated, he would find a way to explain, to placate and convince opponents that his approach was reasonable, rational and the one they could accept. That's a gift."
Despite a huge last-minute push by John Cardinal O'Connor - who said the measure would offer protection to sexual behavior that was "abnormal" and a "sin" - the bill finally passed the council on March 21, 1986, by a vote of twenty-one to fourteen. Ethan Geto was one of the principal lobbyists on behalf of the legislation. That vote was greeted "by cheers and tears from supporters," Joyce Purnick reported in the Times.
"God, I can't believe it - after all this time," Stoddard told reporters.
It wasn't until February 1993 that Tom Stoddard moved to Washington to head the Campaign for Military Service, a hastily formed lobbying group organized by gay leaders to try to make the president keep his word. At that point, it was probably already too late to dislodge the committed majorities in the Senate and the House which opposed a lifting to the ban (of homosexual in the military force, ndr).
By now Stoddard was seriously ill with AIDS, but he threw himself into this final battle with all of his legendary energy. On April 16, 1993, he was part of the first publicly announced meeting of gay representatives with any president in the Oval Office. He found his fellow Georgetown graduate to be noncommittal but extremely charming.
Shortly after Hawaii's Supreme Court held that a state ban on gay marriage might be a violation of the state's constitution because it was gender discrimination, Tom Stoddard decided to marry Walter Rieman, his partner of five years.
Stoddard said the decision to solemnize their vows grew out of "a variety of converging factors," including the simple realization that both of them would enjoy wearing wedding rings. The ceremony would confirm their status as official domestic partners in New York City, but like gay marriages in every other state that year, it would not be recognized as the equivalent of a marriage between a man and a woman. "I realized my desire to wear a ring was at bottom a desire to show off my relationship," said Stoddard. "And we both decided that if we were going to wear rings, we wanted to wear them on the traditional wedding finger, and we wanted traditional wedding rings, to declare equivalency to heterosexual marriages."
John Boswell, a gay historian at Yale, had recently completed his book about gay marriages in ancient times, and he suggested to Stoddard and Rieman that they could be the first couple in America to use one of the ancient ceremonies he had unearthed. Boswell said he had found eighty different ceremonies, "some written originally in Greek, some written in old Slavonic, and some written in Latin." But the ceremonies made the prospective couple uncomfortable "because all of them made considerable reference to Jesus Christ and to religious beliefs to which we do not subscribe." So they decided not to use any of the ceremonies and not to have anyone officiate "because part of the purpose was to create our own ceremony.
"We're not looking for approbation from the larger world. We're making our declaration to the larger world. So we composed a sentence that each of us would declare to the other and would precede the exchange of rings, and that's what we said to one another.
"The rings came from Tiffany's," said Stoddard. "I decided to go and buy a gift certificate fro Walter, amounting to the total price of two rings, for our anniversary, which was in August. That was the very day I moved back from Washington, from the campaign [to permit gays in the military]. I was feeling sad, and sort of confused about things, but because we were having dinner in celebration of our anniversary, I wanted to present this gift certificate from Tiffany's to Walter that evening. I had only a few minutes to get to the store, and I was laden down with baggage, so I showed up at Tiffany's at quarter to six.
"I had trouble getting through the door because I had all this luggage. The salespeople thought I was just totally bizarre, and I made them very nervous. But eventually they escorted me over to the wedding ring counter, and I talked to the person behind the counter who sold me the certificate for $600. As she went away to process the transaction, another salesclerk, who was leaving, passed by. She said,
""Talk about last minute!" She must have thought we were eloping. It was really funny."
When Stoddard returned with Rieman to get the rings fitted, he was delighted by the demeanor of their salesman. "I thought to myself, Gee, this is going to be real trouble, and he's going to be real uncomfortable in all this. And he couldn't have been better. He was corteous without being officious, he was not in the least uncomfortable. He just went though the transaction as if such things happened every day. I was pleased because this was a sign of how much the world had changed, and disappointed at the same time because part of this thing was to make a fuss, to cause trouble on behalf of other people.
"When I went back to pick up the rings I saw the same clerk, and I said "I know this was an untraditional transaction. I really appreciated your businesslike attitude. It was a pleasure to deal with you." And he had a big smile on his mouth, and he extended his hand. And I liked that. I thought that was very significant.
"We wanted to incorporate appropriate traditional elements in this ceremony while maintaining our individuality and our distinctness from a traditional ceremony. We filed for domestic partnership the week afterward. We did not have a cake with two male images; we thought that was absolutely ridiculous. But we did keep some traditional elements. The rings were presented to each of us by our oldest siblings. We had some form of ceremony and we dressed up. But we only wore suits."
Stoddard had tried for a formal wedding announcement in the Times, but the paper's editor said that would be impossible, at least until the state had formally legalized gay marriage. But when another Times reported learned he was getting married that weekend, he ended up with an announcement in the paper anyway - in the "Chronicle" section. "So I got, in some strange way, the wedding announcement I wanted." The New Yorker also made the marriage the lead item in "The Talk of the Town." Both items also mentioned Stoddard's partner had just been elected to a partnership at Paul, Weiss, Rifkind, Wharton & Garrison. That made Rieman nervous about how his fellow partners would behave at his installation, but Ted Sorensen, who was the master of ceremonies for the event, handled the recent publicity deftly.
"Now I'd like to bring to the dais Walter Reiman, whose wedding received more attention that anyone's else, except Donald Trump's," said Sorensen.
"That's all he said," Stoddard recalled. "It was just perfect. And then Walter came up, and among other things thanked me for supporting him as he became a partner. And then Sorensen got up after Walter spoke - and this still really affects me - and said, "Congratulations, Walter, and welcome, Tom." So he was welcoming me to the firm as a spouse - and that was very moving to me. Walter was euphoric."
Stoddard and Rieman had decided to conduct their ceremony at Chanterelle, which was their favorite restaurant in Manhattan. Rieman's brother and two sisters and Tom's gay brother were among the seventy guests. The ceremony took place in December 1993, which also happened to be the twentieth anniversary of Stoddard's coming out. "The comment which affected me the most was from Hendrik Uyttendaele," said Stoddard. "Hendrik seemed very moved by it and said that he thought that it was one of the most honest events that he'd seen in his life."
Each man declared, "I commit to you my life and my love for the rest of our days," put on their rings, and kissed. Then Stoddard's brother performed the traditional role of the best man by offering this toast:
"Tom and Walter have done something that gay people have dreamed of for thousands of years. Let's raise our glasses to Tom and Walter. May you continue your life together in a more perfect union, in good health, and always with adventure and purpose and love."
Two and half years after Stoddard's marriage, the country's highest Court rendered the kind of decision that Stoddard had been hoping for since he first came out in 1970. In Romer v. Evans, on May 20, 1996, the Court voted six to three to throw out the Colorado state constitutional initiative that had forbidden protection for gay people from discrimination.
Nine months after rejoicing over the Supreme Court's decision in Romer v. Evans, Tom Stoddard succumbed to AIDS. The great gay visionary had been diagnosed with the disease eight years earlier; by the time the most effective drugs were available, his illness was too advanced to be halted by the new therapies. Had he lived just a decade longer, Stoddard might have spotted our "entry into heaven," just over the horizon. --The Gay Metropolis: The Landmark History of Gay Life in America by Charles Kaiser
The Rights of Lesbians and Gay Men, Third Edition: The Basic ACLU Guide to a Gay Person's Rights (ACLU Handbook) by Nan D Hunter & Thomas B. Stoddard
Paperback: 240 pages
Publisher: Southern Illinois University Press; 3rd edition (July 22, 1992)
Amazon: The Rights of Lesbians and Gay Men, Third Edition: The Basic ACLU Guide to a Gay Person's Rights (ACLU Handbook)
This handbook offers a careful survey of the rights of lesbians and gay men under the present law, specifically in regard to freedom of speech and association, employment, housing, the military, family relationships, protest and other expressive activities, criminal matters, security clearances, and HIV infection.
Legalizing lesbian & gay marriage: A conversation for many voices by Thomas B. Stoddard
Publisher: Lambda Legal Defense and Education Fund (1989)
Amazon: Legalizing lesbian & gay marriage: A conversation for many voices
Same-Sex Marriage: The Moral and Legal Debate by Robert M. Baird & Stuart E. Rosenbaum
Paperback: 242 pages
Publisher: Prometheus Books (April 1997)
Amazon: Same-Sex Marriage: The Moral and Legal Debate
Should government sanction gay marriages? Same-Sex Marriage offers a balanced group of essays by those involved in the struggle, as well as social commentators, scholars, and others who have addressed what could be one of the most significant debates in history.
More LGBT Couples at my website: http://www.elisarolle.com/, My Ramblings/Real Life Romance
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