Dearest Elicia,
You used to be the love of my life, the apple of my eye (that’s a thing, right? I heard it used in a song once). However, that was before I saw the real you: the cold, insensitive, unaccepting-of-my-way-of-life you.
A week ago, you kicked me out of our apartment because you didn’t approve of my lifestyle choices. Have you seen the news lately, Elicia? America legalized gay marriage in every state; Time magazine called trans issues the “next civil rights frontier.” Quite frankly, with all the progress being made towards greater acceptance of all people, I was taken aback by your unforgiving mindset.
When you found me in bed with another woman, you totally spazzed out. Now I have no place to live because of my lifestyle. I am persecuted.
I am a polyamorist. I have multiple intimate relationships at the same time. It’s just the way I am. I was born this way and there’s nothing I can do about it.
While it’s true that I yelled, “Oh shit!” and then said, “You weren’t supposed to find about this” before cowering in a corner crying while my hot, blonde, slightly younger mistress looked on confusedly, that’s because I’m in the closet. Yes, I’m an in-the-closet polyamorist.
But now, I’m out. And I accept myself, despite the discrimination I face from you and from society.
And I have a dream: one day, maybe not too far in the future, every man or woman can have sex with as many partners as they want, anywhere they want. They won’t need to tell anyone involved about anyone else, and they will be unafraid of persecution, unafraid of their wives, girlfriends, or 22-year-old mistresses getting upset. No longer will I have to hide in the shadows of society.
You broke my heart (and my back, as I’ve been sleeping outside on concrete for the last three days) but I forgive you. Unlike you, I am sensible and accepting of other people’s feelings and ways of life.
With that being said, I don’t believe we can see each other anymore. Even though you told me “Get out!” and that you never want to see me again, I know you were just overreacting. But I must put an end to this; I am just too hurt.
Unless you want to do a threesome, which case I will probably find a way to forgive you for your persecutions.
Sincerely,
Dick
P.S. There wasn’t a good time to say this, but you should probably get checked for STIs. You’re welcome.
With files from Austin Cozicar
