It's always nice to hear from people helped by my blog. Some messages stick out more than others. A while back I got an email containing the following...

My name is [feminine name] and I've been following your blog for about two years now...and it's been amazing reading through it all. Thank you for shedding light on such important topics and for being so positive and accepting of it all, I truly admire you. Your blog has been my therapist. I finally feel as though I'm not alone and reading through your interviews of couples always gives me hope.

I'm in a amazing incestuous relationship and I'd love to share my story with you and talk to you about it. I plan to move out with my boyfriend in a few months and when I do so I want to show them your blog. I want to make them understand..

Anyways...thank you! I hope to speak to you soon.

With love,
[name withheld]

I wrote back and and asked her to explain more about her situation. This is what she wrote. What she wrote is below. This seems to me like a likely case of Genetic Sexual Attraction.

I'm nervous..I have never spoken about my relationship before..with anyone...yikes.

My boyfriend...he's my brother.

I was adopted by my uncle when I was merely weeks old. My parents didn't want another child and they were going to have an abortion, but afraid of my grandparents, they had me and gave me to my uncle and aunt.

I wasn't told that I was adopted. I lived an amazing life, really. Ever since I could remember, I was in India, an ocean from the country where I was actually born (England).

I lived my entire life as a very happy child. I had two older brothers and they were amazing and I was the princess in our little family. I got to know that I was adopted when I was about five or six when I could comprehend people talking about my "real" parents. I didn't really think much of it at the time, since I was only six.

Our family moved to America when I was eight. I knew who my "real" parents were by then and who my "real" siblings were, but I hadn't been officially told yet. I rarely spoke to my "real" family in England. The only memories I have of them as a child are one vacation we all took together way before I could make sense of it.

When I was 11 my parents took me to England for the first time. It was a weird experience. You start thinking about how different your life would have been and all the "what ifs" start taking over.

I was extremely excited to spend time with my siblings - my brother and my sister. I thought my brother was sooo cool. He's only about two years older me and I wanted to be just like him. I think for me, that was the beginning to our attraction towards one another. We spent that entire week glued at the hip. He was the most amazingly cool person I had ever encountered.

Something changed that trip. I went back to America and became extremely depressed. The "oh s--- you're adopted" voice started kicking in my head.

Looking back at it now I feel a bit silly. I had an amazing life with my adopted family and my adopted siblings. I can't explain it. It was an awful time, especially when no one understood it. I became a little emo kid slitting my wrists, crying endlessly. It was terribly dramatic.

I was lucky to visit England again, only a year and a half later. I decided to tell my brother that I knew I was adopted. We cried. We cried so much. He'd spent his entire life telling me that I was his family and now I actually believed him. I loosened up. I had gotten it off my chest and we had an amazing trip. He was still as cool as ever. I remember one day when he looked particularly adorable I said that if he wasn't my brother that I would kiss him. I was very cheeky, I know.

That night we kissed. We were just playing around. We started from kissing on the cheeks and that when full in. We sneakily did that until it was time for me to go back to America, and I loved it. I used to play very hard to get and he was determined that I was his. We played this game for some years.

Until I was 16, we made out at every family gathering, always sneaking away, always playing and teasing but it was nothing serious. Whenever we parted ways we hardly kept in contact. When he messaged me he would always ask me if I had a boyfriend, and I would never tell him that I couldn't find anyone like him.

That's how it went for us for a few years, but when he was 18, he moved to America. To my house. He moved to my house!

We talked more in those few weeks than I've ever talked to anyone in my entire life. I told him my deepest darkest secrets and he told me his. We were such melodramatic depressed teenagers, but all the story-sharing really helped us build this trust. I can trust him with my life.

I started spending much more time at home. I didn't want to be anywhere apart from him.

We'd spend all day together. When I was off to school he would work and than we'd talk till 4 am when I would fall asleep texting him from my bedroom.

We'd had a few chats in the past before about our relationship. I remember once he told me that he would marry me if I wasn't his sister. But this time it was different. We were so close that the excuse of "you're my sister/brother" didn't stop us anymore. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. He was amazing. And just like that we said "I love you" It was amazing. I thought we could live like that forever..

But I was a naive 16-year-old. My parents caught on pretty quickly. It was a major disaster. I won't go into too many details, but they kicked him out. They said I proved I wasn't their daughter.

It felt like my entire life had ended. We had been talking about moving to England before and it only seemed like the logical decision at the time. My brother said my real family missed me so much and they'd love to have me, so I packed my bags and I left.

I had no idea what I was doing. I regret that. I regret it everyday. It was terrible. You can't just leave. But you when someone takes you in and says they will love you forever and than spits you out the second you get sour...that's how I felt. I just didn't realize how much worse it would make things.

I was only 16, moving to a new country, leaving my family and my friends and my high school and familiar places. But I didn't really care because life in England would give me and my love so much more freedom and we could go out and be normal since no one knew me there.

Boy was I wrong! My American parents had called my British parents before we even landed. It was a load of crap. Life flipped upside down. I realized about a day in that my British parents didn't want me there at all. My sister wanted me there, sure, but not my dad. He asked me to go back the second day, after a huge family fight. They booked my tickets for the end of the summer.

My fairy tale ended very quickly. I found it really hard to adjust. I had been a spoiled brat in America, and now I was in a miserable place being miserable. The only thing keeping me going was my boyfriend who spend all day with me everyday to make it better, but he still had friends and a life there. Now I knew how he'd felt in America! It was terrible.

But my love for him grew. I didn't mind doing chores. I even learned how to cook. We'd need it when we moved out.

Then roughly 5 years after our first kiss, we took the next step. We screwed like rabbits for months.

Apart from the time we spent together and away from the family, our life was awful. We couldn't sit next to each other and we weren't allowed to go places alone. Everything we did prompted a remark about how disgusting we were. I think his parents thought I was ruining his life.

We made the best of it though.

I came back to America. It was the worst flight of my entire life. I was being separated from the one person I loved most in the entire world. It was terrible. I think I cried the entire eleven hours.

I moved in with a relative and went back to high school, but it was the same. My friends only ever talked about parties and booze and all I could think about was my love and money for moving out. It was awful seeing all my dreams come to an end.

After a series of unfortunate events I ended up back in England. I did not want to be there.

Life was even more miserable than before. I don't understand why anyone has to give someone such a tough time for loving someone. 

I think it was hard on him, but he promised me that we'd move out one day. But there was constant bickering, constant fighting in the family. I think for me the worst of it was when my dad told me that they should of had an abortion. I'd hit rock bottom.

I was forced into therapy. It was suppose to help me with not having feelings for him anymore..

When I gave him a Xmas card that said all I wanted for Christmas was him, I was asked to leave the house or say that he was brother. You know what the worst part of it was? He told me to just tell them that he was my brother and nothing else.

That hurt so much. I know he was just buying time, but I couldn't do that anymore. I don't think they could either. I was asked to leave back to America and finish school.

I started talking to my parents in America again. I missed them. I missed my life where I didn't have to put up with this bulls--- all day..they agreed to have me back. It took a lot of adjusting but we are doing okay.

Me and my love have been in a long distance relationship ever since. It keeps the parents happy, but we can't leave each other now. I can't love anyone else.

I saw him recently after two years. We barely got to kiss once. The family keeps a very close eye on us.

We've grown a lot since our early days. Sometimes I feel like we are an old couple. I wake up as early as possible and message him as soon as I get up, and we chat until he's asleep. We try to FaceTime once a week. We spend hours FaceTiming. It feels like he's actually here, like I'm not lying to myself.

We were planning to move out soon... but we are not going to. He has dreams; dreams he had before me, dreams for his parents, things he wants to do for them. I have no right to stop him. So I'm waiting.

I'm waiting till he's done with all of that and then we can run away again to our own house.

I used to hate this long distance thing. I still do. I think life is playing a really big joke on me. He keeps me telling me that we'll have the rest of our life together.

My parents have adjusted well with me now. We can actually talk about him and not feel awkward. I know they know that I love him. It pisses me off that they still don't care to give us approval.

It pisses me off that we'd have to leave our entire family and our entire life to be together. It pisses me off that we are not together. I hate talking to an iPhone all day. I hate not having him by my side.

I just want to go on a date, to get engaged, to have the children that we named two years ago.

I wrote back to her and she wrapped up with this...

Patience will pay off I know. Some days are better than others but I know that one day it'll be okay.

I think what you do is wonderful and I'm so glad that you aren't afraid to speak out on the issue.

Thanks Keith! You have no idea how many awful nights you've gotten me through with your blog. 

I want to make something clear. The his parents and my parents are not villains. I hate them for not being happy with our happiness, but I don't blame them for anything. They were just being protective and I don't think they quite understand how in love we really are. I hope that one day they will come around. Maybe I'll show them your blog and the piece you wrote for the parents.

I'm looking forward to a "happily ever after" here for all involved. It is one thing to be protective of your dependent teenager, but people must understand the dynamics of GSA and allow their adult children to have their own lives, and that includes those adult children having their lovers, even if it isn't want their parents would want.

You can read interviews I have done with others here and read my advice to friends and family members here.

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