You Might Be Polyamorous – Big Bruiser Dope Boy

January 30, 2023

After Jeff Foxworthy

 

If you believe (or at least proclaim unprompted as a defensively justifying rationale) that “love is not a limited resource” . . . you might be polyamorous

If you’re at least slightly ugly and are lowkey hedging your bets for someone better because you’re shallow and don’t know what you want, yet are scared of being hurt, while never actually willing to be vulnerable, because you experience feelings like a gay desert lizard . . . you might be polyamorous

If you have more than one emoji in your dating app profile name and they don’t transmit meaning to anybody but you and your pup kennel’s librarian . . . you might be polyamorous

If you’re autistic and have out-of-control/compulsive sex with multiple partners without conscience and can’t experience or commit to an actual loving relationship without a nullifying buffer of newfangled social pretense cope . . . you might be polyamorous

If you named yourself after a character in an 80s fantasy movie (Atreyu), a time (Midnight), or a classical element (Aether) . . . you might be polyamorous

If you go to a bathhouse “for the conversation” and bring a used bookstore copy of Foucault’s Discipline and Punish which you focus on pretending to read while avoiding eye contact with people and smoking a cigarette that is somehow both a menthol and a clove . . . you might be polyamorous

If you just uploaded a drawing to DeviantArt of a Wookiee getting spitroasted by Ewoks with dicks as long as they are tall . . . you might be polyamorous

If I created problems in your open marriage because your nonprofit CEO husbear fell in love with me after I spent a night at the Four Seasons giving him quasi-intimate backshots like you never could . . . you might be polyamorous

If you pretend to dissociate from your body by going unresponsively mute with a thousand-yard stare after fabricating a traumatic event from your past in order to manipulate others’ sympathy into giving you the last slice of pizza with non-traditional toppings that evoke nostalgia for a childhood nobody ever had . . . you might be polyamorous

If you repeatedly shout your own name when you orgasm like a human Pokémon with Tourette’s (“Porygon! Porygon!”) . . . give me a call sometime (you might be polyamorous)

If you live in a college town and aren’t in school but people think you are and you don’t correct them . . . you might be polyamorous

If you have a group of friends who dress like witches that cast animated .gifs/Harajuku basketball players/imaginary members of Talking Heads and all have sex with each other passing around STIs like rumors in a sorority . . . you might be polyamorous

If you’re 30 and your parents are still married and you haven’t forgiven them for it . . . you might be polyamorous

If you’re getting back into plastic lace crafts to weave a neon hangman’s noose for yourself that your culturally celebrated but scientifically unhealthy body will snap after you try to off yourself because a cis male (an attractive black guy) sat next to you on public transit and you’d had enough . . . you might be polyamorous (and you might want to get rope from Home Depot next time)

If you narcissistically behold the image of your own form during fetish group sex based on characters in a forgivably problematic anime . . . you might be polyamorous

If you’re live on Twitch right now . . . you might be polyamorous

If you’re live on Twitch right now forcing yourself to cry while speaking euphemistically about the break-up of a relationship (“we mutually resolved to set boundaries of never seeing each other again,” etc.) that was never together in the first place . . . there’s no doubt, you’re definitely polyamorous

If you cook elaborate meals inspired by indigenous cultures but you “do it respectfully” as if that matters or anybody gives a shit, especially remote, faraway tribes you have no contact with who’d mutilate your clitoris with a sharpened piece of tree branch if they ever saw your honky-Pachamama-ass on their turf     . . . you might be polyamorous

If you live in a politically radical (you make your own beef jerky) housing cooperative in Austin, Texas called Horseshoe Palace with your lovefriends . . . you might be a polyamorous redneck

If you call yourself polyamorous . . . you might actually just be single and unhappy