**Dear Universe** If I ever date again—if I ever let a title make actual changes to my life—this is what I want. I’m poly, but that doesn’t mean I never get jealous. It doesn’t mean I don’t want princess treatment or to feel like somebody’s number one. I don’t want to be one of many. I want to be the one above many. My partner can adore other people, but I need to know, feel, and regularly be reminded that they choose me. I want clear, honest communication. I want someone I can tell about my daily slut shit who gets excited to tell me theirs. Someone I can share partners and experiences with. Someone who appreciates my filthy past, encourages my vulnerability, and understands that anything tender I reveal is theirs to respect and protect—not judge, expose, or weaponize later. I genuinely don’t care what my partner does with other people, but they must do what they say. Go fuck the entire city if that’s what you want—but if you promised to be home by nine to eat dinner and love on me, you had better arrive while the food is still hot. My openness is not permission to neglect me. Do not abuse my willingness to understand your needs by treating my time, plans, feelings, or needs as disposable. Extracurricular activities cannot interfere with our goals, promises, connection, or the life we’re building. I want us to encourage each other’s dreams, including the tiny ideas and little-bitty projects that may not matter to anyone else yet. I want us to get excited about what the other person is creating, help each other follow through, and accomplish things together. I want a relationship that builds an actual life—not one that exists only through sex, dates, and words. Maybe, eventually, lovers we meet outside our home could become more deeply incorporated into what we’re building. Our relationship could grow into whatever dynamic fits the people involved, whether that means shared lovers, additional partners, or something none of us has named yet. I’m open to quite litera…
