Holidays have rarely been an enjoyable experience for me.
That being said, this Thanksgiving is a whole new kind of unenjoyable. Being polyamorous can be extremely complicated, and exquisitely painful.
I ate my Thanksgiving dinner alone in a fancy restaurant. I tried not to think about my partner – not alone but, rather, with his primary partner.
It goes without saying: primaries get all the holidays. Not just the major ones.
She’s not alone at Londonhouse.
But I was. it wasn’t bad, actually.
It’s looking back, alone now on my couch with my cat
It’s the
looking back
That’s when the exquisite pain hits.
“We don’t think about the terror of one person aching in one place alone untouched, unspoken to, watering a plant, being without a telephone that will never ring because there isn’t one.”
Charles Bukowski
The Crunch
My undergrad thesis was on that poem.
I had no idea.
Looking for Layla: an autobiographical account by Elle B. Hunter, dedicated to Jeff Littner and his “cheerleaders with black and gold hearts”. 