J.C. Marie

I used to have a best friend. We met in my freshman year of college. We weren't the closest immediately, but come second semester, we were thick as thieves. We had the same sarcastic and self-deprecating sense of humor. We had the same lazy, no-care style. We even looked similar, with our brown hair and slightly over-weight bodies.

Two weeks ago, my sister and I were catcalled as we walked into the mall. This isn't the first time this has happened to us, and it won't be the last.

Kuri rolled along the rough rocks of his home planet, zipping towards his cave. The only sound that he heard was that of his wheels zooming, with the occasional pebble clattering through. He was returning home following a day of travel, the same as the day before that and the day before that and the day before that.

Chad and I had met at a vegan café and immediately hit it off. He was smart, charming, and handsome to boot. The fact that he also frequented my favorite vegan café didn't hurt.

When I tell people that I am engaged in a polyamorous relationship, I get a wide variety of reactions. Often I hear "what does that mean?" or "I could never do that." However, perhaps most often, people ask me, "Isn't that just an excuse to cheat?"

I've always loved dogs. From a young age, I was endeared with the soft, cuddly animals that provide unconditional love. However, there was a strict 'no furry pet' rule at my house, largely due to my father. Therefore, I was denied the love of a dog that I so dearly craved.