It’s a bit strange to be writing you a breakup letter like … six months after the fact. Especially since we never really broke up. There was nothing to break. There was a boy; you were totally enamored with him. There was the prerequisite unrequitedness that drove you kinda nuts, but in a way that I found totally adorable. The nutser you got, the more adorable I found you.
Because you love and adored this boy in the same way I’d loved and adored people in the past.
Seeing this, and knowing that unrequited might become requited at any moment, why did I stick around?
Firstly, because the way you felt about him didn’t change the way I felt about you. There’s a particular poignant polyamorous poetry to this: seeing the way you cared about him made me care about you all the more.
Now, there’s a certain magnificence to requitement, KK. Besides having a wife, I have a girlfriend now. And she tells me that she loves me every single day. And I say it to her. It’s a lovely love that mostly lacks anxiety, as we have a high degree of certainty that we’re both crazy about each other. This is what I want for you and your boy.
What we had wasn’t love, but we were utterly totally okay with each others presence, and we celebrated this okayness because—let’s face it, it’s pretty rare to find another person who makes you feel completely comfortable around, where you can be strange and unusual but utterly yourself. And I knew for a fact that this is one of the things that can grow into love, given time.
So I stuck around because you were worth the risk. Some people are.