Shared Space

Dear Butch,

The art gallery in downtown.  The record store in uptown.  The beach just out of town.  Together, they became “our places”.  Without speaking we could meet for any meal of the day, dessert, or drinks at the same location by just speaking the phrase “Meet you at our place”.  The staff soon got to know us and our story as we got to know them and theirs.  Our happiest moments happened, if not in bed, at these pockets of the city.  Until, there was no more us.

These spots are still standing, even though we have fallen.  They are are now neutral grounds and can not be claimed for the taking.  As hard as you try to convince me that you have the bar and I have the ice cream shop. that is really not how this situation works.  These buildings and parks are not like children or sports equipment, they can not be divided between us with written or oral contracts.  They are communal property that can, and will, be used at anytime or with anyone I fucking feel like.  If you choose the throw a fit, then that is your prerogative.  I can’t stop you from acting like an immature teenager and you can’t stop me from eating brunch with a new butch at our former brunch place or taking friends to our former park for a picnic.

It doesn’t mean I don’t care or respect you or what we had.  It means I am moving on with my life and I suggest, with all my heart, that you do the same.

Love,

Femme

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