Guess What? I’m Polyamorous Now!
January 19, 2012 § 1 Comment
So, because I see you, DT, more than anyone; because I love you, I prefer your company, etc; because of all of that, you’re my “primary”. The fact that I fuck other people makes me poly. I know this, because some poly asshole I fucked once out of boredom just emailed me to tell me so. Even though I said that I wasn’t poly, he claims that I am. He must be right.
Now that I’m poly, what should I do? You said that I need to speak and write sanctimoniously about being poly.
And I’ll need to gain more weight
Maybe become Wiccan
I’ll need to flirt stupidly and disgustingly in public places with overweight guys with long hair and ring beards, but stop them from tying me up with the hemp rope they keep in their backpacks by telling them that my primary needs to approve first
At which point I’ll schedule a night for him to meet you, buzz around our apartment, knocking into the sun-shaped wind chimes, making vegan loaf, readjusting my giant saggy titties, consider wearing my special corset, while you make a play list on our shared computer and check you fetlife account. Then you can tell me how beautiful I look when I’m glowing with desire. I hope you don’t mind, but you’re going to have to actually use the phrase “glowing with desire” because that’s how we fucking talk now that we’re poly. We’ll laugh over how lucky we are that we’re not “normies”.
Then we’ll all sit down to have dinner together, I’ll keep blushing while the two of you openly discuss how sexy I am, and we’ll play a board game. Probably not anything awesome like Mouse Trap. It’ll be some trivia board game, because we’re all busy telling ourselves that there’s nothing sexier than the human brain, but we’re not intelligent enough to realize that knowing that Golda Mier was the fourth prime minister of Israel doesn’t make us geniuses. It just means that we were paying attention to an episode of Frazier where he mentions it. At the end of the game, you’ll kiss me on top of my head, give him your blessing, and slip off to our incense stinking bedroom while he fucks me on the futon. I hope you don’t mind, but we’re going to need to get a futon not that we’re poly.
I’ll start to spend more time with him than I spend with you, and eventually move into his cabin with his two other girlfriends where we’ll make amateur videos of him spanking our huge fat asses. We won’t allow for any comments on the videos, and we’ll say it’s because we belong to our master, the ring bearded fatso. But really, it’ll be because we can clearly see how disgusting our asses look. Bruises on fat ass do not improve the general appearance.
He’ll never ever give me permission to fuck anyone else. Not that I’ll ask.
And when I think of you, It’ll be in disgust that you couldn’t be man enough to tell me not to fuck anyone else.
When I’m 40, he’ll bring home an 18 year old. None of us will like her, the other fat assed subs and I. She won’t have a fat ass. She’ll be thin and horse faced.
But, we’ll have to pretend we like her. Until one day, I’ll decide to move out of the cabin, blogging on my sex blog under my stupid sex blog name about how disgusted I am to watch him take such an innocent girl and make her participate in bukocki parties.
I’ll try to settle into a normal life. I’ll try to add you as a friend on Facebook, but you’ll hit ignore.
I’ll long for kids, find out I’m barren, and live out my days collecting disability for mental illness.
Likely join up with a group of local “Ghost Hunters”, where we’ll go to lonely people’s houses and try to get spirits to talk to us and tell us why they cannot let go of this world. It’ll be a valid enough question, too, because we sure as fuck wouldn’t mind letting go.
Man. I am so glad that fuckknuckle sent me that message telling me I’m poly. Who knows what kind of direction our friendship would have taken.