breakfast

“You’re great,” he said.  I had made him breakfast using the materials provided by our airbnb host.

“You’re great!” I said.  “You’re the extra great who makes me masturbate.”

“You’re funny,” he said.

“Yeah, I am funny!” I said.  “You’re right about that.  You get the funny for free.  The rest, you have to pay.”

I laughed and kissed his arm, as he munched a bagel I had toasted and spread cream cheese on.  The strawberry jam had high fructose corn syrup in it, so I spurned it.

I was wondering what he pays in.  Worth more than gold, he gives his life to me.

So yeah, love is free, but it also costs everything.  He considers me and my needs in all of his choices, cares for me when I’m hurting, listens, reads all that I write.  Gives me space and freedom.  Shares his money too, drives me places in his little car.  Holds me, fucks me, calls me sexy bitch if I ask him to.  Makes me come.

Sleeps with me every night, enjoys my humor.  Has difficult conversations.  Dances with me.

Also he’s respectful, super-pretty, understands my disabilities, and we have too much fun.  Ten years–we’re living the dream, because we’re brave enough to feel, give, communicate, and attempt it.

Someone used to ask me what my favorite invention is–I would say marriage.  She didn’t like that answer.  I didn’t mean legal marriage–I meant the actual relationship.

Breakfast is my favorite meal.  Happy to cook for the sweet darling who helps me so much.

Long term relationship can be done poorly, but it can be done super well!  Love to the generous partners who inspire so much joy.  My darling spouse, your marriage skills.  And to Emma Goldman, cherished friends, all my queer freedom heroes.