Romeo, Letters, and a Love That Moves Like Art
TikTok video from 2023-07-21
I wanted to sit down and tell you about one of the men in my life right now—a man I’ve been referring to as “Pet,” but honestly, that nickname doesn’t quite fit anymore. As our connection deepens and shifts, so does the language I use to describe him. I think from now on, I’ll call him Romeo. Because yes, I’ve fallen in love. Not the whirlwind kind you lose yourself in, but the grounded, electric kind that surprises you with its sincerity, then gently lingers even when time and geography work against it.
We’re not quite star-crossed lovers. There’s no feuding family drama. But the timing is terrible. He lives in Los Angeles. I live in Florida. We are 3,000 miles and two busy lives apart. And yet, we found each other. Through an app. Through chance. Through timing that was off—but not wrong.
He invited me to a baseball game, and I immediately said, “fuck yes.” Because what’s more charmingly unexpected than a first date at a game? But as it turns out, we never made it to the ballpark. Instead, we met for dinner, and ended up in one of those conversations where the world outside stops mattering. We talked about life, love, polyamory, work, kids, art. We discovered that we’re just 11 days apart in age—him, slightly older. That made me smile. Just two days ago, I marked “60 days to 60” on my own calendar, and he’d hit that same milestone just before me. It suddenly felt like we weren’t just meeting now—we were meeting in the context of all the years that came before us. All the wisdom, heartbreak, and longing that had quietly prepared us to appreciate one another in this exact moment.
What unfolded from that night wasn't just attraction. It was resonance. But life is complex. Romeo is deeply immersed in work. He’s traveling constantly. His phone is flooded with messages and calls. And me? I have a full, rich life of my own. Other partners, projects, a book I’m writing, a podcast I’m launching, and a community I hold close. So we had a choice: try to wedge something rushed and shallow into already packed schedules, or let our love unfold in a different way.
We chose letters.
Yes, letters. Real, physical, handwritten notes—sent by mail. We became pen pals in the truest, most romantic sense of the word. I started writing to him late at night. Tucked into these letters are small parts of me: mandalas I’ve drawn, sexy photographs, little pieces of art I’ve made just for him. Creating for him has become a ritual. I light a candle, pour a glass of wine, and let my hands express the affection, arousal, and curiosity my body holds. Zentangles. Watercolor sketches. Erotic snapshots. He receives them with tenderness, and he writes back—sometimes from hotel rooms, sometimes from airport lounges. The rhythm is slower, but the intimacy is deeper.
This, right here, is why I love polyamory. Because love doesn’t have to be measured by how often someone sees you in person. It can be measured by intention. By creativity. By the care someone takes in showing up for you in whatever way they can. Love is art, and with Romeo, we’re creating a kind of long-distance masterpiece—one letter at a time.
He has twin daughters who are grown and living independently. He recently took a new job that brought him out to California, but he still owns a home in the Tampa area, which means every once in a while, our paths will cross again. Until then, we may meet in other cities, other time zones. We’ve already talked about traveling together. And you know what? The idea of writing letters in the spaces between seeing each other—rather than clinging or forcing—is incredibly romantic to me. It’s mature. It’s honest. It’s sustainable.
And then there’s the kink layer.
Romeo is a switch. In public, he has the energy of a grounded, confident Daddy. He took care of me with such effortless control—opening doors, guiding me through the room, holding my gaze just a second longer than necessary. I melted into that dynamic, that safety. But when we began to play, something unexpected happened. He softened. Opened. Yielded. His energy shifted toward something deeply submissive—inviting, vulnerable, deliciously obedient. It surprised me. But more than that, it awakened something in me.
I found myself rising into dominance—not aggressively, but with curiosity, warmth, and control. I’ve long considered myself a switch with strong submissive leanings, but with Romeo, I felt a spark of something new. A desire to direct. To lead. To command with care. To give structure with tenderness. It made me wonder: Am I a submissive top? And is Romeo one of those rare creatures we call an alpha bottom?
An alpha bottom, if you’re unfamiliar with the term, is someone who presents with power, charisma, and leadership in most areas of life—but who submits deeply, intentionally, in the bedroom or kink space. And it turns out, I might be deeply attracted to that. There’s something about a man who leads boldly but chooses to surrender to me that is electric. And I’m just beginning to explore what that means.
We’re still learning each other. Still playing with roles. Still figuring out what this dynamic looks like when it’s expressed across time zones and tactile memories. But what I do know is this: he is not just another partner. He is someone I love. And even if we only see each other a few times a year, I will keep creating for him. I will keep mailing letters. I will keep letting love move slowly—like ink across paper.
Because polyamory, when done with depth, isn’t about quantity. It’s about quality of connection. And what I have with Romeo may be inconvenient, but it is beautiful. I don’t need a baseball game to know we’re already playing something far more meaningful.
And I can’t wait to see what we write next.
