I love…

Love and friendship and monogamy.

I love that feeling that comes from absolute trust. I love long silent cuddles on the couch that may or may not lead to sex. Soft, gentle, missionary style sex. Rough animal kingdom sex. Kinky sex. Sex with props, sex with nothing, sex with words, sex with emotion.

I love the fact there’s family members reading this and rolling their eyes and thinking, ‘That’s so Gen. Inappropriately honest.’

But I love understanding and acceptance the most.

The joy and freedom that comes from understanding yourself, your partner, your minds, and souls and hearts.

(And run on sentences, clearly.)

For some, like me, this comes in the form of a single pair bond. I need that. I need my man to give me what I give him; loyalty, fidelity, trust.

But for some this is NOT what they need. For some that would be a prison of sorts. And just like it would be wrong for someone like me who needs…demands…such singularity to suffer through the pain of repeated infidelity from someone who will not or cannot give it, it would be wrong to demand such of a soul who does not willingly give it.

Because that is what love is.

Willingness of soul, of mind, of heart.

Consent.

Someone who needs to be free to express themselves, who feels suffocated from monogamy or moral codes not of their own choosing should not be with someone whose heart and mind would be crushed by their unwillingness to give that. Nor should the other, if love is truly there, want to force their own moral code or rules on someone whose mind rebels against it. Call it cultural relativity, call it whatever brings you happiness, and whether you understand or accept it or not, I will acknowledge your right to do so.

For me, there is nothing as perfect as two souls who understand each other. Two, four, six, however many. For others, there is no such thing as a soul, so the whole thing is a moot point anyway.

And because I prize understanding and acceptance above all,

I respect that.