On that first, glorious day, I typed ‘X-files’ into AltaVista and quickly discovered a legion of fans who called themselves “shippers”- people just like me who were equally fixated on the relationship between Mulder and Scully.
Visiting Billy’s house on the weekends was highly anticipated, as now I could buffet on pelvic-tingling stories. I couldn’t control myself. After each read, I promised my friend I would just be another minute. Sometimes he’d lose hope and meander to another room; sometimes I was ashamed at what I read and self-censored when the stories became too graphic. Here I could read in actual words all the fantasies I had visualized for my favorite star-crossed lovers: flirting, dating, marriage, babies, self-sacrifice, hand-in-hand death. If we couldn’t see Mulder and Scully get freaky on TV, then we’d write about it, dammit. And that writing would be shitty, but oh so delicious.
