I did this instead of sleeping.
Disclaimer: may not actually be funny.
[Theater curtains pull back to reveal a tiny apartment. BF (boyfriend) and ME (me) are hanging out on the couch or something. I ignore the roaches.]
BF: Hey guess what! You should totally see other girls because you’re bisexual, right?
Me: that is dumb reasoning i can totally be monogamous and im totally not ignoring any earlier hints in my life of the contrary
NARRATOR (who sounds suspiciously like Joey Lauren Adams and will never show up again): They did not stay monogamous.
[Time skip, a month. At some gaming thing or whatever I trip over a MTG card. Not enough Os in smooth. My crush was watching and the thought of asking her out would not leave my mind.]
ME: ok bet
[I run home to tell BF my intentions.]
BF: OK, cool!
BF: …can you not see other men, tho?
ME: Fine. One of y’all is enough. But we will revisit this in the future because men are occasionally hot.
BF: No penises.
ME: That’s fucked but I lack to vocab to explain why. I will fix that.
[I get on OKCupid, and start doing a lot of reading and Googling Words. Fastforward like, a month or something. Time is a farce. I’m back on the couch, on my laptop, and I have ACQUIRED VOCABULARY. And I never did ask her out. I’m a weenie.]
ME: Hey, whadayya know? I’ve done my research and reading and turns out, I’m actually polyamorous! I’m not broken! This is AWESOME! DOWN WITH ANGST!
BF: Cool.
ME: We’re a mono/poly relationship. That’s neat. It’s gonna be hard work.
BF: OK?
ME: Yeah, because we’re in an One Penis Policy and I don’t like it. You’re gonna have to get over this fear of other dicks.
BF: I–
ME: And your exact wording was pretty transphobic. I know that word, now. You thought I forgot, didn’t you? Check that shit, too.
[BF begins angrily scrubbing the floors.]
ME: dude just use a damn mop
ME: …I missed my cue to make a joke linking "hard work" and "other dicks."
[To make myself feel better about my shitty comedic timing, I print out the shiny POLYAMOROUS label and stick it next to my other ones. Somewhere in the world, one of those Labels-Are-Meaningless types gets a chill down their spine. I cackle in glee, knowing someone out there fucking hates my collage of labels. I hope they open the wrong can and it’s actually canned asparagus.]
ME: Who put that giant question mark next to my gender? Eh, I’ll figure that out later.
[Another fast forward, let’s say a year. I’m no longer guilty of my crushes and feelings, in love with this other person, been burned a few times, screwed up and learned from my mistakes, and I may have taken a flamethrower to the apartment because of aforementioned roaches. But I digress.]
BF: So I’m scared you’ll leave me for a woman.
ME: Not because you’re a casual sexist racist macho dorkward who can’t clean a dish?
BF: What?
ME: What?
[At some point, we get distracted. Three guesses how and what.]
BF: On a totally unrelated note, can we close the relationship back in the future?
ME: You can’t put Robin Williams back in the bottle, man.
BF: …what?
ME: I SAID WHAT I SAID
[We’re gonna skip the rather quiet breakup and I just jump through the trap door and disappear in a puff of smoke. I leave my clothes, but I quote a line from Aladdin first. Scene.]
NARRATOR (who sounds suspiciously like Joey Lauren Adams and I was wrong about this): I should warn you that the next time you meet, it’s gonna be awkward. You will also regret re-friending him on Facebook.
ME: Same as it ever was. Play me out.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n2-NaMALbm0
P.S.
ME: …wait. You used "they" earlier.
[NARRATOR (who I am convinced is Joey Lauren Adams at this point), just hands me a printout about from KnowYourMeme about Egg Mode.]