Acid/ OkCupid Love Story

The air is moist on a misty night in the Art Museum area. What would have been a seemingly average night to most urban families on a bike ride, or kids skidding around at Paine’s skate park- was far from average for me.
It’s hard to recount the order of vignettes on this night of child-like glory. On acid, we became our true selves. We become the people that laugh at the things we like to laugh at, and cry if we feel moved to. We aren’t afraid to show our playful sides, like most adults are forced to hide in today’s constricted society.
A few weeks earlier, I had met a zealous boy from OkCupid. I had never expected too much from the site, just to find a warm body to smoke and sleep with, and possibly discuss music and philosophy if I was lucky. But this person seemed very different! Orientation: Bisexual; Ethnicity: Black; Relationship Type: Strictly Non-monogamous.  In his Self Summary section he wrote:
I prefer to be considered demi-sexual (sexual affinity forms after a bond is made, that bond, for me, being friendship) and pansexual (I don’t really care about your wiggly bits just as long you have a body that does stuff like breathe and be cute).
I am a satyr. My patron is Dionysos and my boss is Pan.

He and I made a connection during our first “date” (if that’s what you want to call it), which took place in Drexel Park and consisted of doing handstands and sitting in the grass. While running my hands through his beautiful, short locks, he told me “I was kicked out of my house for being queer, so I went to live with a friend’s Dad for a few months”. Surprisingly, I was not skeptical of this somewhat outlandish story or character; strolling, with his six pack abs, into my life. “I had a job at Pathmark for a few months, but I was miserable, crying during my 15 minute breaks at work…. I needed a full time job, and I finally found a job in Old City at the Franklin Fountain.” He went on,   “I was with my ex for three years, and we just went through a break up about three months ago…”.

“Why did you end it? Did it end well” I asked.

A few weeks later, we find ourselves in that very same park, coming up on acid. Playing around the Water Works and alongside the Schuykil is always fun, but when we’re on acid and transformed into fairy-like versions of ourselves.

He is brown, I am peach. Although our parents might see us on a more black and white scale.
It is 2014; 51 years from the time Martin Luther King Jr. had a dream. I am frustrated that progress has not occurred more quickly; but I still have hope for the future, and I have dreams of my own. I dream that I will not have to worry about giving birth to a multiracial son that will be shot for walking into a convenience store. “I will mourn Darrien Hunt for the rest of my life,” is another anecdote within the depths of ArmillanSatyr’s OkCupid profile. If it weren’t for the well-grounded Dominyck, I probably would not be concerned with such an issue. But on this magical night’s trip, troublesome matters are pushed to the back burner for the both of us, and neither of us are really on the ground. Literally. We were practicing gymnastics and capoeira; a Brazilian martial art. I am a centaur and he is a satyr. He is a feisty Peter Pan and I am his Tinkerbell, flying through the air. All is well in the land of hedons.

Overlooking the long grassy, slightly inclined area of land that leads up to the back of the art museum, we sat on one of the many rocks that form a cliff. Being the creatures with natural inclinations to climb dangerous objects that we are, I followed the satyr up the side of the mountain, feeling safe with him always. Pangs in the back of my throat were telling me that something was trying to get out. Things we normally don’t say or speak in our daily lives because they could be risky have a tendency to slip out while LSD is in use. Sitting on a rock ledge, I pulled out my journal to see if I could understand what I was thinking, or communicate what I was trying to say, since I knew that I tend to communicate more easily through writing. I read from my journal “Dominyck is great… I’m so glad he is poly” Tears began to trickle down my cheek, the words fighting for air, ” I … I … I … love you,” I said with tear enhanced vulnerability.

Pause.

Silence.

“Wait right here”, he said and scurried away down the rocks and across the valley.

Oh my god, I thought, did I scare him by moving to fast, does it seem like too much, too soon?

.
.
.

“Victoria Powell, I love you too!”, I heard a declaration from across the grassy incline.

Filled with joy. I had opened myself up like an empty treasure chest and was filled with gold and all of the precious jewels I could ever imagine. In fact, it was something better than that, a mystical moment where I felt the all-powerful yet evasive, unconditional love.  I explained that loving him was a thing I did, a verb. And I wanted to keep doing it.

“So we’re a poly couple now,” he said.

“Yes, sure”, I replied. Not thinking too much about the fact that he recently told me he wanted to be “living independently” after the breakup with his girlfriend of three years. The concern crossed my mind, but I knew I was ready to be in a polyamorous relationship, and I had a hunch that I would not be as controlling or time-consuming as his aforementioned ex. So lets give it a try, I thought.

For the first time in my life, I feel like I am free.
We are both living independently together.

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