Curious

By Melissa Geissinger 

Do you have any idea what you’ve done? That stunt you pulled last night downtown? That shit can’t be undone. Or unseen. Dear God—the drama. The pageantry. The glitter. I’m still picking it out of my teeth. And that’s unfortunate because I’m supposed to be getting married in an hour. 

You can’t just go around this town being your actual self. There are rules for a reason—respect for traditions, roles, societal norms, and the order of things. You’ve spent a lifetime building a reputation. You were accepted, respected, and even admired in some circles. And you stupid, short-sighted son-of-a-bitch decided to throw it all away in one lustful, sinful night of unhinged debauchery and vodka-soaked rainbow Spandex. 

What are you going to do now? She’s going to be out there waiting for me: she and her entire family. At least, I hope so. 

How are you going to fix this? 

Wait a minute. Do you even want to fix this? This life ahead—is that what does it for you? The march down monogamy lane into the meticulously charted land of corporate promotions, property taxes, and parent-teacher conferences? 

The alternative is what—sexual promiscuity? A new night, a new bed? Ropes, piercings, three-ways, handcuffs, remote-controlled devices that come with safety warnings—the freedom to explore the fluidity of your existence in all its unobstructed, undefined glory? 

Shit.

You bastard. I had this all planned out. Locked down. It was done. And now there’s no going back, is there? 

You did this to me. And I’m not sure if I can ever forgive you—or should? 

Fuck.

This whole time, you knew better, didn’t you? 

I can’t do this. I won’t do this. How will I ever repay you for the kindness of this liberation?