My boyfriend doesn’t want you to be my girlfriend

It’s only fair. He was here first. Although we couldn’t really decide if we were a thing or not, for like 4 or 5 years. We danced around the idea, danced around each other, developed a deep, mutual, love and respect for each other, but there was no sex. As I’ve mentioned before I lean more asexual than anything else. My friends classify me as gay and I have zero idea what this thing with you is all about, Sarah. What the hell do we call us? I’m a complicated guy. No one has ever been able to peg me (no pun intended). I always say, I contain multitudes.

 

So me and my potential love interest were going through kind of an “off again” period, just taking a break from all our unanswered questions. I wrote a few songs and poems about him, as I’m prone to do. I even produced a racy video to go with one of them. So not like me! But it was kind of freeing. Anyway, I digress. During the time where we were taking a break you showed up. There was so much magic and synchronicity involved in this period it’s hard not to think of it as a spiritual experience. I wrote a few songs and poems about that, too. You know the ones, wink.

 

Once our situationship took off the difficulties of juggling all the feelings became intense. I like to compartmentalize, but it was getting harder to keep you from bleeding out into my real life. I was trying so hard to keep you as just a pastime, like a youtube video you watch on the toilet when you’re taking a shit. It’s nice to have something to fill the blank spots. That’s what I meant for you to be. I had a spot on the shelf set aside just for you.

 

Given the break my relationship was on it wasn’t really cheating, per se, to have a crush, so I told a few people about you. As I’ve mentioned before, my friends and I had what I will call, hobbies. We had a whole infrastructure already set up for collecting data and vetting people. I hang with important people, so this kind of thing is just par for the course. We started to weave you into weeknight hangouts, beers and bae. We’d take turns writing you love poems and see which ones got the best response, winner gets dinner and bragging rights. We also had a drinking game where everyone had to take a shot whenever you talked to your cats in that little baby voice. We all got pretty drunk! Anyway, I’m getting into the weeds here. It’s fun to reminisce.

 

So, you know, you started figuring shit out and getting pretty pissed. You felt surveilled or violated, whatever you said, I can’t remember. Then in the biggest overreaction of all time you packed up all your shit and moved 3000 miles away. Wow. I was devastated. Look, I know I never gave you my real name, talked to you on the phone, or even told you anything real about my life, but I was thinking about it! And you just up and left without my permission.

 

Not missing a beat, I did a pivot back to my man waiting in the wings. Problem was he had heard about you and could sense there was a little something extra there. So as a balm to his jealousy I let him in on our game. You were back in the category of “object” for us both. We were in control again. The game of you became a bonding experience for us. It brought us closer together, at first.

 

Problems started when he realized I was doing a lot of stuff with you on my own, things I didn’t invite him to. I was always in my den, leaving him alone after he had made us a meal. He’d come in to check on me and see me giggling like a schoolgirl. It wasn’t long until he figured out why. That’s when all our issues began to intensify.

 

Of course, he wanted me to stop. But you had become my lifeline, an IV of dope straight in the vein. You can’t just pull those tubes out and expect to live long. He didn’t see it that way. You’re a person, not a drug, for God’s sake, and we had never even met, you didn’t even know anything true about me, and most of what I knew about you I made up in my imagination.

Even so, this was the beginning of the end for me and my boyfriend. Even after we decided to go poly he didn’t want to ever sense that I may be thinking about you, but I always was, and he knew. It started to rot our love from the inside out. Would it make you happy to know that, Sarah?