There’s nobody I’d rather feel old with

My first-ever Oregon voter ballot came in the mail today. When you told me that voting only happens by mail in Oregon, I felt a pang of regret and nostalgia. Polling places have inhabited such an important place in my life. Obama was the first president I voted for and I spent the months leading up to the election door-knocking, making calls, and helping people navigate transportation to the polling places. Then, when I did political campaign management, I did the same and spent every day of early voting at the polls, campaigning for my candidate from the corner. Later, I’d vote at the polling places my grandmother volunteered at. She would look so professional in her polling place volunteer bib and she’d look so proud to see me there and have the chance to introduce me to her volunteer cohort. Walking into the private booth made me feel, briefly, like I had the ability to impact, in a very small way, the trajectory of our country’s future. I’m tearing up right now thinking about my relationship to the polling locations and also how inaccessible they were. So many votes weren’t cast because folks had to work, or had transportation obstacles, or weren’t able to leave their houses. This will be my first time voting by mail and, at first, I felt robbed. But then, after carrying the ballot upstairs, I realized – this will be the first time I’ll ever be able to vote with somebody, and that somebody will be you. A new tradition, in a new place, with the person I want to spend the rest of my life with.

If you ever decide to call a phone sex line, it had better be mine. I’m the only person allowed to tell you, “I need your cum! Ropes of cum!”

If we had to jump from a sinking ship in hypothermic waters and only had a fairly large wooden slab to cling to, I would definitely make room for you.